For most of my childhood and early teens, I thought my father was my best friend, even if he was harsh sometimes. He defended me from my mother's insanity and seemed to champion my independence
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I have a similar view of Father's Day. It's the day that I should hypothetically miss him to pieces and mourn his passing. But I really don't care. After all he put me through, why should I?
Also feel similar. My childhood was a wreck because of my father. I live with the rips and ripples from it. I reach out and I feel like I'm doing the right thing to wish him a good father's day, but I doubt it does any good. Anyway, enough of my own angst. Hugs for you. Lots of them. And maybe a nice cup of coffee.
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Anyway, enough of my own angst. Hugs for you. Lots of them. And maybe a nice cup of coffee.
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