A few days have passed since my decision to ignore my father's continued existence on this planet, and I feel fine. I roll the proposition over in my mind less and less as time advances. My predominant emotion is that of relief, as I continue to reach the conclusion that shutting him out of my life is a good thing for me. The only thing I've missed is a marathon two hour conference call with my father, his rehab doctor, his social worker, and his other children about where he was to go next.
After all of the pain, frustration, embarassment, and self doubt he has caused me, it's nice - very nice - not to live with him as a focal point. I've not been able to do this before, and I can only do it now with the knowledge that I will never permit him to intrude upon my life again. The bad memories are starting to seem distant and to be subsumed by the superb experience I'm having living and being with my own family. I apologize for not having the maturity to forgive him and to forget about all of the things he's done to me. I know that my inability to do so is a failing on my part. But it feels right, and I intend to continue until it feels wrong.
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