I am still puzzled by my father and who he was. When I knew him I thought he was sober. It was not until he went into the hospital that I found out he was still using. I believed that man, like an idiot. I’m angry today. All I wanted before I met him was my father and now I see that the seed I came from was worse than I thought. I don’t know what my father did but judging by what’s gone on in my world, I assume it was bad. I wish, just for today, that I stayed in Colorado. He used me, I am not sue how but he did.
I can’t let this take over my mind. I am filled with thoughts of feeding my father when he was woken from his coma. I remember the last few conversations we had…he never spoke of selling drugs and never spoke of being a using addict. He always talked to me like he was working a program and justified the pain meds he was on at the time because he was sick. It was not until we found sheets of pills (that we took to the hospital) that I realized he was a full blown addict. I tried to get info out of my stepmom but she knows nothing. He was a master at using and abusing until the very end.
I came to the South in hopes of a better life.