Sunday, June 12, 2016

Dear Dad

Did you believe in "watch out for what you wish for, you just might get it?"

I have wanted space to get the Man's things out of the way of the rest of us, more privacy, a place where I could have family over.

We're getting that. We've bought a house. Closing is in a month, we will move in near the end of August.
We have a beach vacation, and it's going to take lots of time to get the Man's things--and the rest of the family's stuff moved over there.

It's not in our neighborhood. It's right near where I used to work. It's not far from here, and it's a nice enough area.

No one wanted our new house, probably because it is next door to what is called "transitional housing," but there's no crime in the area. The transitional house has been next door for 20 years, no problems.

Otherwise it's a really nice house. And your money and Mom's is making it possible. Because it means we can pay off the mortgage, and sell this house after we move out. You remember what an awful mess our house is, Daddy? Still is now, and it's mostly because of the Man's stuff. Thousands of books he'll never use. Lots of other crap. More in storage, but at least we'll have space to store it--and we won't be paying $500 a month in storage fees any more.

It's a really nice house, Daddy, and I'm sure we'll love it. But you know what?  I DON'T WANT IT.

All I want is for Vulgaria next door to move out and for the Man to get ride of all these useless things that have spoiled our life here.

I am so, so angry at him for making me leave this house. My nest. My safe place. The last place where I have memories of you and Mommy.

But then, Dad, I'm still mad at you and Mom for leaving me. For leaving me to clear out YOUR house, and say goodbye to it the way we did.

And I won't do that to my girls. At least we can all say goodbye to this place together.

I love you, Daddy. Four years ago, right about now, you left us forever. And I miss you. Always.
And I love you, always.

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