I have lived In the darkness for so long I'm waitin' for the light to shine Far beyond horizons I have seen Beyond the things I've been Beyond the dreams I've dreamed Are the things I've done

 At the end of March, my biological father died.

It has not brought me the relief I thought it would.

I have spent the last 2 months grieving my entire life.

At the end of February, one of my friends and former classmates passed away unexpectedly. She had been battling with an incredibly rare form of cancer. Just 48 before she died, she posted on Facebook about how great she was doing, how it was going great, and how this would be her last round of treatment.

Not even two days later, she was gone.

I remember getting the text message from a friend that she had passed away. I thought I had dreamed it because I woke up to it in the middle of the night.

As it turned out, it was not a bad dream. It was very real.

The service for my friend was held in our childhood church. The last time I had been at that church it was for my grandmother's funeral. I remember sitting in church and thinking, "really, God? Really? of all the people to take home, you're taking Stephanie, saintly Stephanie? Stephanie who never did a damn bad thing to anybody and you're going to leave [my biological father's name]?"

A few days later, I found out that my biological father was dying. I did not have a set date, but he was in a state where he would never come back. It was only a matter of time before he was gone.

My biological father had gone to his great reward, which I sincerely hope is Hell.

Before you offer my condolences, please understand that I had waited for this day my entire life.

Over 37 and a half years of sleep deprivation, fear, and isolation have come to an end. My mourning that I experience now is not for the bad man that I shared DNA with, but for myself and this huge percentage of my life that I can never get back. 

I think of my entire life that I had lost up until now. 

I think about the racial slurs, I think about the stigma and ostracization, I think about the societal punishments I endured because of who my father was and what bad things had been done to me. I think about the same people lying and saying what happened to me didn’t happen, but whose parents wouldn’t let them come over to my house because of what my father had done and who he was (so, which one is it, then?).

I think about the cruel ‘anonymous’ trolls (whom these social media sites protect) who tried to get me to name my father, asked why I didn’t claim him, who wanted me to name him so they could use what he had done to humiliate me, and force me to fester in cruelty they had wrought.

I think about the court documents in the boxes in the closet. I think about the blood relatives who tried to lie to protect him, saying that all of that wasn’t true.

I think about the lasting physical effects on my body that prevented me from being a mother.

I think about the people I had accidentally hurt because of  all of this. I think about never being able to have healthy relationships with others. I think about never being able to let people in, being isolated from everyone I’ve ever cared about. I think about the Grand Canyon worth of space between myself and everyone else, no matter how deeply I loved them.

I don’t know if I believe in Heaven or Hell, but I certainly hope that both exist,---but I hope that Hell especially exists and that he is there. We only have so much of our lives to live and I have lost so much of what was supposed to have been mine.

His death did not bring me any sense of relief. It did not bring me any sense of justice or joy. It was an unremarkable way for a terrible man who spent a lifetime hurting others to go out--quietly, and paid for by my tax dollars.

I have spent the last 2 months grieving my entire life, because no matter what happens, when you Google my full legal name, his name, and all the bad things that he has done, comes up. I can never get my life back. I've lost my entire life. 

Rot in piss, you absolute piece of shit.