My dad died in the 19th. He was  an abusive asshat and the last time I saw him, he was sexually assaulting me. I haven’t spoken with him since. My whole reaction was anger.  At him for the inconvenience, at my family for not being close enough to take care of it, at his best friend for waking me up to tell me about it, and not having all the info I needed to take care of the paperwork.
Now, I’m just glad that he’s gone… Relieved that I won’t be disrupted by him ever again. I have one less person to look over my shoulder about. My biggest fears are now gone.
But he was the keeper of the photographs… And they are mine of stuff.


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