13 June 2002 - 8:20 pm
I didn’t have a very good relationship with my family when I was younger. My brother and I fought like rabid dogs, and I seemed to always be angry at my dad. I got along OK with my mom, but it was just that: OK. Nowadays my brother and I are like, well, brothers. Mom and I chat every night online and laugh at just how much alike we are. And I finally realize what a terrific dad I have.
I lived with him for a while after High School, and although we got along well, it still wasn’t great. Then I moved back to Vegas, and grew up a little more. I found myself saying, “I wish I’d listened to Dad.” That hurt. I’d spent a good part of my life being mad at him, but I never really understood why he did the things he did. He didn't want his kids to go thru a bloody custody battle. He sacrificed his time with us, to save us from some pretty jacked-up stuff that probably would have landed us in therapy. Sooner.
And sometimes it makes me sad to think that there’s little chance that I’ll actually have a child of my own. And it tears my heart out to think that I won’t get the chance to be half the Dad that mine is to me.