Pain, Sorrow and Sadness

I killed my father not literally – mind you I’m no murderer. Well my anger and wishful thinking must have had a hand, as for year I wished that he would die and maybe, just maybe, I would be better off.

My father passed away on 6 October 2007, not really sure of the time but I’m sure that he is gone – dead! I’ve hated him for so long – till now (well a part of me still hates him). I have so much hatred and anger lingering inside of me because of that man, but now that he is gone…

That man owes me so much, not money – that’s way too material for my liking. He owes me because he didn’t play his fatherly role; he played no role in my life, whatsoever.

He died not knowing the simplest things about me or my life, simple things that make me laugh or smile, things like my favorite kind of music, my favorite color, fears, ambitions and dreams.

He knew nothing, nothing at all and that saddens me. I felt no sense of security from him, no trust, no father-daughter bond and no love at all. I felt that he didn’t care about me and didn’t love me.

At times, I would doubt that he is my father and just when I’ve gathered enough courage to ask my mother to tell me who my real father is, I would look in the mirror and there he was staring at me.

They are so many things left unsaid and done
Promises left unfulfilled and the hope of him changing and being a father to me. It makes me sad and tears me apart. I’ve wished for so long that he would die, as I felt better off without him.

But now… how I so wish he were still alive, to hug, kiss and to tell me that I mean the world to him. How I wish I’d hear him tell me that I am beautiful all the things a father should tell his daughter.

Well then again I guess I will never ever get the chance to hear him say all of those things. I know that no amounts of “if only” will bring him back, though I still wish he played the fatherly role as he should have; a role that every father should play in a child’s life. I wish he knew my dreams and ambitions. I wish he knew how much I hated him and how much his distancing himself from me was hurting me, so that he could correct all of that needed to be.
Wonderful things were said about him at his funeral – ya well, I guess you cannot badmouth the dead. His friend and colleague came up front and told everyone how a good man he was; “There were so many expectations from him” his friend went on, as he told mourners what a strong icon we have all lost.

And yes, it is true. They is so much that was expected of him, especially from his children, I believe; all seven of them (possibly more). He was so irresponsible, making and leaving children all over the show. Not willing to take responsibility for his actions.

My father was a real actor and, for his performances, I believe that he deserved an Oscar.He played father to children that were not his own– a father I never had. On the day of his funeral one of his friends mentioned that he was a mentor – a mentor I never had.

And was also called a pillar of strength – that same pillar I yearned and longed for while still growing up and still do to this day. Everyone who came forward painted a really beautiful, colorful and bright picture of him.

I doubt and know that my picture could be anything like as mine wouldn’t have all those colors, my picture would bear pain, sorrow and complete sadness endured in the years. It was also said that everything he touched turned into gold; bruise is the word that should have been used.

That bastard would beat the living hell out of my mother all night, wake up the following morning wearing his favorite suit, Bible in hand, and off he would go to church. A man of God, people must have thought when they saw him; he was far from that, more like the devils best friend.

And no, not everything he touched turned into gold, because everything he touched bruised, I’m left with the emotional scars and mom still bears physical scars on her face and parts of her body.

Those who knew his evil side will tell you that he was a lying and cheating bustard who didn’t care about his children. His was flippin’ cold-hearted, evil, spineless womanizing, abusive man who didn’t appreciate what he had and took everything he had for granted.

He is not worth my airtime anymore, he is dead… and I can’t kill a dead man, it’s just impossible; even though at times I wish him to life so that I could kill him with my bare hands. I can’t believe a dead man could cause so much trouble.

Ja! To all you bitches that call yourselves my aunts, it is fine; help yourselves to all his assets – it’s not like he had any children after all, right?

No love lost most say. But in this case there is…

I am Sebarbie Mona on facebook

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