It's just not fair, you know? He doesn't remember anything... anything that he did to me. And I remember every curse, every smack, every bruise. Everything. I remember all of it.
I look at him now, and he's old... and sick. And I feel nothing. And it scares me. I mean, what does that say about me as a person? You know, you're supposed... you're supposed to love your parents. So... I guess I go because I want to... I want to feel something.
It's so crazy, you know? I've learned more about him now since he's been sick than when he was normal. Turns out, he's just another case of history repeating itself, you know? He was a victim, too.
This is the only thing I have of my dad's. The only thing I ever wanted. Favorite memory as a kid was going to the record store with him (He plays With A Girl Like You by The Troggs)
He was counsel to 17 plaintiffs. Six traffic accidents, eight worker comps, two slip-and-falls and a bad lip enhancement. Though I have yet to see a good one.
