Voices in my head

Friday marked 13 years. Funny that I remembered on Thursday and then again on Monday, but between then it seems that I couldn't spare him a thought.

Yesterday, however, I found myself wondering what dad would say if he met the baby and also what the baby would think of him. I couldn't imagine how dad could have held my brother in his arms and not felt the same love I feel for my child, and yet I have 23 years worth of memories that tell me it was highly unlikely that he ever did. And where do I fit in all of that? Did he ever hold me in his arms and just lose himself in the love I'd like to think poured out of me? I'd like to think he did, but I'm perhaps a bit too cynical/realistic to blindly accept that he did.

I'm still struggling with what I'll tell my child about dad - I don't really want to pad the reality of life under his rule, but I guess I'm still having a hard time coming to grips with why I still have love in my heart for someone who could be such a douchebag on so many levels. I suppose I could just argue Stockholm Syndrome and have done, but that would be lame and also miss the point in many, many ways.

I guess, as always, my relationship with dad is a work in progress and likely it will be one that never ends. I had thought that I was over this, that I no longer needed to keep looking at the bits of puzzle that made up our life together, but my need to do better for my child (and also not become my father) keeps urging me on.