Daddy...

Last Sunday I finally went to visit my biological father in jail. (pause for dramatic gasps)
I was nervous about the whole ordeal. I worked in a jail for over a year. I've know people in jail yet I have never once visited anyone. Never thought that I would. In fact, I told myself that I wouldn't visit him. He made his bed so he should have to lay in it, right? I was happy to see him and sad to leave. He looked like his old self. Like the daddy I knew when I was a kid...
I also refused to write him at first. But then I did. I wrote four pages of feelings that I had been harboring inside for almost 10 years. TEN YEARS! That's how long it's almost been since my Grandma passed.
Back to Ronnie...
Four pages of feelings.
Thoughts.
Fears.
I must admit that when I put it in the mailbox to be delivered I was afraid. I didn't even expect him to respond. But he did. Then I responded back. And we've been communicating every since. When I went to visit him I drove over an hour for only 20 minutes. Crazy, huh? Not exactly. I had been praying for him. Praying for us. You see, I am trying to change- for the better. I want to be able to teach Avi how to live in God's light by me living that way myself. How can I teach him about love and respect (for his parents) when I am harboring hatred myself?
And hatred for him is an understatement. I hated him for many reasons.
I'm not a girl with "daddy issues". But I did resent him. I have trust issues. I've never been in a relationship where there was a 100% trust.  I'm not saying that he's to blame... The guys gave me reasons but thats for a later blog post. My dad let me down. At a time when I needed him the most he wasn't around. Thinking back... Maybe he needed me too. Yes, I had lost my grandmother. The person who'd been my best friend for years. But he had lost his mother. So maybe we're both to blame. Fact is he's still my father. I still love him. I still have to do what's in God's word. And knowing this now... I feel relieved.
I am at peace with my relationship with my dad.

Confession:  At one point over these past 10 years I wondered if I would cry if my dad had died. I remember thinking once that I wouldn't. I told myself that I wouldn't even care. I prayed that the Lord would take that feeling away. That was the devil.