I understand now, Dad.

One of the hardest lessons I learned about my father came to me last year when I was looking at the record of his incarceration(s). My mom wanted me to know that he was back inside again. I think she feels that its her duty to let me know what's happening; she always keeps me posted.Growing up, she had always told me that he was in jail, and with me being a child, I understood it as if he messed up somewhere along the way, and now these people were prosecuting him to the full extent of the law, holding him for years over some kind of minor, non-violent drug related thing.I always pictured him in one of those orange jumpers writing to us (back when he used to), looking up to the sunlight bleeding in through the bars with a tear in his eye, thinking of his family... Of course he wants all of us together. Of course he wants me. What a childish notion. I had never really given it much adult thought until I saw the record. I never had a reason to question it.He was only in jail for about 5 years of my entire life. A year here, six months there...etc. It wasnt that someone was keeping him from our family. He just didnt want to be with us.I like to act like hes just a piece of shit that isnt worth my time at all, like I dont care or it doesnt affect me, but it does. I feel guilty because a part of me wishes he was dead. At least that would eliminate the pain of choice.I guess Im posting this here to remind all of you parents that you may not be perfect, but at least you're present, and if you're in this sub, chances are you at least give enough of a shit to try and better yourself, which is commendable and rare. via /r/Parenting https://ift.tt/3gtZsQi