I don't know where to begin, so I will begin at the end. You left on an ordinary day in January. It was a pretty uneventful day except now it is marked by your absence. Mom received a phone call from you mid day, you were in a Chicago airport. [was it O'hare or Midway?] she thought you had left for work...but you were actually leaving her.
It's been a few years now since I've spoken to you. I'm still hurt because you didn't just leave moms...you abandoned us. [Granted, we were all grown]
I have really been examining myself. As a child i would secretly wish you would leave and never come back. I would secretly cry every night and dread those moments when I was alone with you. In my naivety, I hated you. I hated that you never accepted me for me, I hated that you haunted my nightmares, I hated you deeply...but i was still your daughter. And parts of me still love you. The other day I felt guilty for missing you. As if to miss you was the highest crime against my sanity. As a child I was unable to voice my hurt my pains--I wasn't loud enough, I wasn't strong enough. But i have grown since then, I have learned since then, I am still alive--since then.
The love of a child towards their parent is rather unconditional. You must have underestimated this truth. You were my hero for years on end, even when your godlike image was crumbling. I have forgiven you, and have even grown to admire the fact that you sought your happiness above all else. I would hope that I could be so bold. But they always said that I was my father's child.