My dad left before I was born. Both he and my mom were pretty young when I was conceived, and she mostly understood that he wasn't quite ready for a child. Like most kids, I was basically an accident. She never showed me pictures of him, for fear that I would ask about him. When I was 8 (my mom and I had moved to Canada when I was 5), my dad was found dead in our native country, Ukraine. He had been drinking and driving and got into a car accident with an 18-wheeler. That's when my mom decided to tell me more about him, and to show me a picture of him.
I had absolutely no feelings. I couldn't feel sad or cry, I wasn't even angry or happy that he'd died. I was completely apathetic. The only thing I noted about his picture was that he looked so young. Even today, I can't make myself cry about it. I feel guilty for not being sad, for not caring, but I just can't.
I don't look at his picture anymore either.
Not Exactly A Loved One
-
Queen of the Dead
- Posts: 61
- Joined: Tue Nov 18, 2014 6:22 am
- Gender: Female
- Location: Vancouver
Not Exactly A Loved One
Happiness is hiding so you can appreciate it more when you find it. Keep looking.
Lana || Pansexual || Witch of Persephone and Hades || Eclectic Pantheist
Can't wait for Yule!
Lana || Pansexual || Witch of Persephone and Hades || Eclectic Pantheist
Can't wait for Yule!