Sad day today... not that Father's Day is celebrated in Russia, but it is in US, and I'm reminded of my father. I don't know if I'll ever see him or my little sister again (she is on the right). Ever since I started having panic attacks, was suicidal, and finally remembered that he sexually abused me and confronted him about it 5 years ago, he cut me out of his life, as did my sister (she thinks I'm crazy and made it all up to hurt him as he is now old and can't bite back).
I miss him. He is a writer, like me, and yet he never talked to me about writing or taught me things. It must be in our blood, though. I remember him reading to me and my sister, those were the good times. He lives in Moscow somewhere. I don't know the address, or a way to contact him. Not that he would answer.
This is the only picture I have where we are together and smiling, and as I was posting it, I have noticed for the first time to my horror that he doesn't wear a shirt. He liked parading his body around. It made me shudder. The things we don't see when we turn ourselves blind...
Full post and a letter to Papa here.