My Dad Died

I found out last night and I was shocked but accepting of it. A little backstory: I haven’t spoken to him in probably a decade, maybe longer. He was hooked on opioids and I got tired of his whole cycle of getting clean then relapsing then getting clean again. For my own mental health I had to walk away. He was a disappointment to me ever since I could remember.

I remember as children he would call my grandmother’s house and say he was on his way, like literally he’d say “I’m only five minutes away I’ll be right there to pick you and your brother up”. And then me and my brother would stand in the doorway of my grandma’s house counting cars and waiting. For hours. He’d never show up.

Then he would come in and out of our lives so much that I believe that’s where my BPD comes from. I was never able to form an attachment or any sort of consistent relationship with him. My mom may have been drunk and abusive, but at least I didn’t have a fear that she would just disappear one day. Every time he disappeared I never knew if he was coming back or not.

I didn’t know this back then or anything but he was addicted to opioids for a very long time. He maybe could have been a great dad, had the SACKLER family not pushed for doctors to get their patients hooked on opioids. Or maybe he still would have been a bad dad, no one will ever know.

I lived with him briefly after my car accident, but it was a disaster. Like a real disaster. The best thing that ever happened was when he kicked me out and I ended up with my grandfather.

I feel his death is a blessing, at least to him. He wasn’t living any type of life. He drove everyone away with his drug use and jackassery. I hope he’s at peace now. And as for everyone else on his side of the family, well they don’t have to worry about him crashing anymore funerals or weddings or making scenes everywhere he goes.

I didn’t think it would hit me this hard, like I said I hadn’t spoken to him in a decade or more. But today I find myself just constantly crying. It’s like I’m going backwards through the stages of grief. Last night I was in shock but I was accepting, today I woke up wanting blood from the Sackler family and then as I was driving to and from the store I couldn’t stop crying.

He was never a good dad, he hurt me tremendously my whole life until I just walked away. I legally had my last name changed to separate myself from him and his side of the family, yet I am actually grieving him and I never thought I would.

Same thing with Barbara (his mom, my grandma that was toxic and I had to walk away), I grieved her as well. Although it didn’t affect me nearly as much as my dad is.

Because no matter what, I can definitively say that of his whole side of the family, I believe he cared more than the rest of them combined. He wasn’t able to show it, and he had demons that he just couldn’t beat, an addiction that wouldn’t let him show it. But he cared more than anyone on that side.

The only one I care about is my older brother, the rest I will be throwing parties when they drop. Hopefully, sooner than later. That’s cold and callous, but so is the way they’ve treated me my entire life, and the world will be so much better off with a few less racists in the world.

That’s all for now. I have a headache from all the crying I’ve been doing and honestly I want to make some calls and reschedule some appointments because I’m not going to be any good to anyone this week.