This piece has been written, courageously, just days after the anonymous authors fathers death.
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I wrote your eulogy today, I should be writing to you with pictures of your grandson.
In two weeks I’ll walk your coffin down an aisle, who will walk me down the aisle when I marry?
I’ve held your hands through my childhood and adult life, you should have been holding mine.
I carried your problems with me everyday, you couldn’t carry me to bed.
I have spent so many nights falling asleep with tears running down my cheeks, whilst you have have used your bottles of whisky as a sleeping pill.
I have tiptoed around you to avoid anything that might cause you to drink or make you angry, you have got me out of bed in the middle of the night just for an argument.
I have the best memories of my childhood, you ensured a negative memory that directly followed that evening.
I spent my life clinging to a glimmer of hope that you could change, you would come through one day, I could fix you. You spent your life making excuses not to.
You have taken your life, but the truth is you had taken mine so many years ago.
I will feel guilt for the rest of my life, your guilt was numbed with whisky.
You expressed so much hatred and venom towards me, I love and idolise you more than I ever have.
Once again, as I lay you to rest, I pick up the pieces of your illness, once again, you are oblivious.
You are now free, I never will be.