My father

My father and I never saw things in the same light. I wouldn't exactly say we didn't get along, but things were strained between him and I. He didn't much approve of who I married, how I worshiped, what I did, and so many other things. I gave up trying to please him decades ago when I realized that nothing would make him happy. My dad just likes to have things his way, and I didn't agree with him. So we are not what I would call close. He did bring me here to Earth though, and I love my life here on Earth. He and my mother made sure I didn't die and they taught me many useful things. Now mortality stares my dad in the face. He smoked for decades. His life was hard. It was hard for my dad in so many ways. I think he was bipolar. I know he suffers from depression. Growing up I remember going camping and going for rides, but more often I remember anger and hurt, physically and mentally. I have been scared for life from the things my father thought were acceptable. I still have nightmares about some things that he did. I have gotten over most of the abuse, but it's hard for me to forget the pain. I stay away from my dad mostly. I have panic attacks when I see him. Now he has had a second heart attack and he is going to die. Soon. Maybe this week. I don't know. I have to figure this all out. Ugh.