Years later...
When I had received the call that my dad had passed away, I didn't know what to do...what to feel.
All I remember is listening to my moms sobbing over the phone saying how sorry she was for everything, while I stood in the middle of the kitchen.
It's sad though.
It took his death to realize that she was sorry for everything. But sometimes I still wonder if she's really truly sorry.
Our trust was broken and I didn't know if it was ever going to trust her. So much was said and done, it's going to take a lot of trying. And I just don't have the strength to try and fix things that have screwed me up in the past.
Avery and I still lived together. She's engaged, as hard as it is to believe. She was the partying type and I actually never thought she would settle down...especially at such a young age.
I'm 22 years old. I'm going to college, majoring in journalism, something that I've always loved.
But I still wasn't able to get over him.
And I'm scared.
He's probably forgotten about me. He's probably so happy with her and his baby.
Which is what I hoped for. If I wasn't able to get my happy ending, then she should. Even if she didn't deserve it.
I was 16. I was stupid, young, naive, hot-headed, sarcastic.
Weird thing is that I never took off the ring my dad gave me. I just couldn't.
It's sad how I still hoped that everytime my phone rang, his name would show up.
But days went by, months passed and his calls decreased.
I don't blame him. I never answered the phone.
The first couple of months were hard. I spent them laying in bed crying, I stopped going out, I stopped eating. My whole life had stopped.
I would wake up in the middle of the night crying, screaming, shaking. Begging for them not to touch me...but it had already been done.
I went to therapy for help, and it did help. It may have taken me 2 years to get most of my life back, but I'm here...I guess. I'm breathing, I'm healthy.
That's good enough right?
I step out of the car, my black heels hitting the pavement with every step I took.
I lock it and Avery hands me the umbrella. We both walk slowly, following everyone else who was dressed in black.
Some familiar faces here and there, but I didn't bother talking to anyone.
There was nothing to talk about.
I just keep replaying in my head what I said to him...how could I, as a daughter, say that to him? My own dad.
Maybe if I never left, none of this would be happening. And my dad would still be here.
He died of lung cancer, the smoking got to him. I found out that his smoking habits got worse after I left.
He let himself go, he lost his job, he almost lost the house, but my mom took over the payments of the house. What's gonna happen to it?
I don't know.
Part of me wants it to be sold, to finally get rid of all of the bad memories, but there's also good memories there too, and honestly? I don't think I'm ready to let go yet.
