(no subject)

I can honestly say that I am not at all sad about my dad's death. Like I said in my last entry, I don't feel like I have really lost anything. I hadn't seen the guy in over a decade, and before he left he put my family through hell. For most of my life I have felt nothing but hatred for the man. I'm not upset about his death at all, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about him. Mostly because I don't understand how or why he did all of the things that he did. I can't even imagine treating my son the way that he treated us. I couldn't do it. I love him more than anything, and I just can't understand how any parent could be so horrible to their children. I could never hurt Evan like that. I love him way too much. I guess I just don't understand why he didn't feel that way about us. And my mom...I could NEVER treat a woman the way that he treated my mom. I don't know why she put up with it for so long. Part of me wishes that I would have told him exactly what I think about him, but it's not like that would have accomplished anything anyway. I may have inherited the whole addiction thing from him, but at least that's the only trait of his that I have. That and his stubborn streak, I suppose. But none of the other stuff, thank God.

I don't really know how to feel about this whole thing, so I pretty much just don't feel anything.

I don't think I'll even go to his funeral. He didn't even go to my brother's funeral. How do you just not go to your own fucking son's funeral? We didn't have any contact with him at the time, but I know for a fact that he knew about it. He just didn't care enough to show up.

I know a lot of people say it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but seriously...fuck him.