Thirty days of truth -- Day ten.

Someone you need to let go of or wish you didn't know.

I can't really think of anyone in my life right now that I want to let go of, but I wish I didn't know and had never met my biological father.. If you didn't read my post about "someone who has made your life hell or treated you like crap," this would be a good time to do so. I'm not about to rewrite all of that to make my point!

Herbie is a selfish, rude, manipulative drug user who finds temporary happiness in hurting other people. He's miserable and takes it out on anyone and everyone who will listen to him. I have no idea when this started, because it was before I was born. He made my childhood miserable and though I've learned to forgive him, I still wish I had never met him.

I lived with my dad until I was about seven years old, and kept in contact with him until I was ten. I know how he was at that time and how he dealt with stress. Nothing about him was polite or considerate. His business was thriving because he put himself first and prided himself on a job well done. I know that he prioritized work and money above family and quality time.

I don't know from personal experience (obviously), but I would imagine that people who don't know one of their parents or lost one at a young age (due to relocation or death) at least have the luxury of imagining their mom or dad however they want to imagine them. If I had never met or known my dad, I could image him to be humble, kind and giving. I could imagine him to choose family game night with his children over going to the bar for drinks with a friend. I could imagine him hugging my mother and showering her with love instead of seeing him hit her and hearing her screams.

If I had never known my dad, I could have experienced my childhood as other children did: visits to the park, afternoons playing in the yard with my friends, playing games with my siblings in the living areas of the house laughing loudly and having a great time. Instead, I spent my childhood sneaking myself and my brothers out the back door to have the neighbor call 9-1-1 and hiding in the bedroom with my brothers when my dad came home drunk so that he wouldn't have to see or hear us. He would yell at my mother to keep us quiet and out of sight. He didn't love us.

I let my dad go a long time ago, but there is still that daydream of a happier childhood that didn't involve him or his poisonous words and actions... A childhood of laughter instead of fear. The truth is that I knew my father. He was a bad man, but I knew him. I suppose that those who didn't get the chance to know their father would envy me that fact even if my experience was a negative one. So, who's the lucky one? Me for knowing my dad or someone else for having the ability to daydream about meeting their dad? I'll never know.