My father is dead.
He’s been dead for 13 days.
I got to hear about it from a friend who got a call from another friend who saw it in the paper, and I was not mentioned in the obit as a surviving family member. This is ironic because surviving my family is exactly what i had to do.

I’m pissed off that I’m crying. Why would I have tears for someone who threw me away like used coffee grounds, and with as little consideration?

I know I’m not crying for the loss of him. Or the loss of them. I’m crying for just the loss. The utterly selfish and heartless nature of their rejection. Where did this come from? Not from the chore of raising me, I don’t imagine. I had never been a bad kid. I never drank, had sex, never got pregnant. Never did drugs. Never got arrested. What was my transgression worthy of their blatant disgust and dismissal? I suspect it was because I was gay. I might never know for sure. Of course, that wouldn’t explain the way they treated me before even *I* knew I was gay. Maybe they just used that as a convenient excuse.

But when i had finally grown weary of trying to win their love i decided i would just stop contacting them and see what happened. I never heard from them again. Their silence was my answer.

So as far as I’m concerned, on January 7th, 2010, my entire family died.