I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry that my last feelings toward you were of hatred and spite. And I'm sorry we never really got along well. I wish we would have. I feel like I missed out on a lot of opportunities, and I feel like you did too. You missed out on a lot, but it's not your fault. People get divorced, and they drift apart. And I didn't call you ever, or fill you in on my life unless you asked. I'm sorry you ended up where you did, your lips to the bottle all day. You still had a lot of potential left in you, and that's what's killing everyone here.
And I'm sorry about everything you're going to miss out on. My graduation, wedding, children, maybe even being succesful. Everything. And it kills me that you can't be a part of it. Not in this world anyway. There's just so much you didn't know about me too, and that's my fault and I can't take it back.
You know, the last thing I can remember you ordering is a Gordon Biersch Marzen. and when I got to Cottonwood that's just about all that was in the fridge. I hated you then. I hated that lunch, and being stuck with you in that shitty hotel room for New Year's. I wanted to be anywhere else. Now though, I'm glad I had the time with you. It was horrible, but it was time: time I wish I had more of. I feel incomplete and I'd give anything for just a few more days, a few more weeks, a few more months. I haven't felt bad about this since I left the hospital. I tried not to look back but this is too big to not, and now I hate myself for hating you.
I can only apologize for so much though, and there's nothing left I'm sorry for. But I also wanted to say thanks. I am who I am, for better or worse, because of you and mom, and I'm grateful for the time I've had.
Until next time, Semper Fi.
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