It's funny how insignificant the death of an abusive father can seem when it first happens. I didn't think much of it, I…

It's funny how insignificant the death of an abusive father can seem when it first happens. I didn't think much of it, I was sorry for him, that he never atoned for his sins, never got the chance to make it right with us. We went our seperate ways after saying our peace with him and that was it. We never spoke again. I grew up with this man as my dad, and I let him go because I didn't want to be hurt anymore by what he did to me. I didn't even really grieve the loss of a father. I didn't cry for him, I cried for my mom, because it took a long time for her to be able to get the courage to be happy. I cried for my brother because he loved our dad despite what he did to him, and he hated him for what he did to me and my mom. But I was relieved, that we were away from him. And now that he's gone, my first reaction was more relief...he could not hurt anyone anymore. It was over. No more pain, no more nightmares in the darkness, no more sleepless nights spent crying...but it's not that easy. Wounds may heal, but scars will never fade. It will always hurt. I learned about the way he lived after we left just yesterday, and it really hit me. He died alone, scared, and hurting. No family, too ashamed to contact us because of the pain he caused. I can't stop crying. It feels like it's all hitting me at once...I will never see my dad again. I will never get the chance to tell him, "I forgive you", I will never get to see the pride in his eyes as he sees my daughter and the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with, the man who will be a better father than he ever could be. And although he is not my "real father", he was my dad, and I loved him so much when I was a kid. I forgave his wrong doings so many times because I loved him, he was my daddy...so many times, until I numbed myself to it all, until I finally let him go because I couldn't forgive the pain I saw in my mama's eyes anymore...

He used to read to my brother and I every night before bed, Harry Potter was our favorite series to read with him. He helped me grow a love for the written word, and he seemed so proud when he heard I wanted to be a writer. He was a Godly man, despite his flaws and sins, and I pray he remained so in his last days...he helped us learn about God. He used to talk in silly voices for hours until his voice was hoarse because we laughed so hard...looking back there were bad days, but mixed in were good days as well and I think we forget these days because they are outnumbered, but at a time like this I can't help but remember them now. A piece of my heart has died, the piece with all the good memories of my daddy. And although I will never forget the bad, I hold the good close to my heart and hope that I can let the rest go and that is all that will remain...

Maurice, I forgive you. I set all the pain free, and I forgive you. A part of you will always be my daddy, and I will always love the good memories, and forgive the bad. Not forget, but forgive. May God rest his soul...