early july, 1996
cedric,
to begin with a fact, throughout my entire treatment all our friends visited, the weasley family visited, harry potter and hermione granger accompanied, remus lupin made it a point to visit every week and my father didn't show up once.
in that dark, twisted part of my mind, i understand. my father lost his parents and his friends in the first war and ̶m̶y ̶m̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r his wife not soon after. he did not know how to raise a child, and yet he tried. he gave his all when i wasn't a child anymore and i cannot fault him for that.
he does not deserve to see his only child, the only remnant of the woman he loved go crazy and be taken away due to her insanity.
no. not after everything he has sacrificed for the world.
in that other cruel, selfish part of my mind, i try to hate him for not being here when he knew what it was like to lose a part of yourself. i try to hate him again and again and again and again till i can't stop, can't focus on anything else and i fail.
i fail at hating my father just like i failed everything else.
i fail because the disappointed part of myself cannot be surprised anymore. everything comes as a tidal wave attempting to drown me but i breathe and i swim up to the surface and i know what to expect.
the healing part of myself forgives him.
it always does.
yours,
june
