I don't write here, but sometimes I gotta get stuff out, so this is what the journal will be used for.
Today I found out that my uncle is dead. The uncle that hurt me all those years. The one I actually felt privilaged to call *Dad*growing up, as he and my aunt took me in after our mother's death and our father being too drunk/drugged up to care for us girls (Holly and I) Luckily, she was taken in by our grand parents...but, not so lucky, I was sent to choose a family... within the family ...to live with. Little did I know, later in life I literally hated myself because I had made the wrong choice at 3 years old.
Anyhow, He's dead, he's gone. He dies free, but he will never make it pass the pearly gates. I'm not very religious, thanks to him, but I understand about heaven....and he doesn't make the list from what I know.
But, I never got to tell him, never to his face. That he hurt me, he killed me, he damaged me. That I loved him, trusted him, and fought deep inside for him....he was my father. A father much better than my own, but he fucked me, he beat me, he fucking hurt me....no father should do that.
The jury gave him 15 years, 10 to serve. He got out an old man, but was sent back in for attempted murder not even a year later. This man was bad, be it the seed, the being, the soul. He was an angry man, taught me to shoot and kill innocent *things* at a young age, then proceeded to shoot and kill all that I asked him not to....just to prove power.
Bill, you have always had the power in my eyes/mind/world. You took control and taught me things...things, that were too old for me to know. I'm left now with an empty space, where fear is usually held. I never again need to turn my head, or wonder where you are...you're gone.
You show your face to me every night, in the dreams I hate so much, but things have changed now....I wonder if you'll show your face anymore. I've hated you so much for all you've done to me, but Oh God....how I miss the times that father inside you, actually peeked through the brut exterior, showing that you really did care about and love me. Showing me that maybe you thought of me, like I was just one of your own...perfect, smart, unique and magical.
Your kids were your world....I saw it that day with Billy in the casket, we never saw you cry before. You grabbed his dead body and lifted it up, yelling as usual....why you, why you, God not you!!! It hurt and still hurts to know that you loved him.....and the he never heard love come out your lips. You beat him, degraded him and made him feel weak, all the days he was alive... but once gone from your power, you cried like a child, you never got to show him how you really felt. But, I know he saw, just what I saw....and knows your power-struggle wasn't a personal fight, you did what you needed to do.
Dad, he loves you, as we all do...just wish you didn't hide your *good side* and your feelings with a bottle and some fists.