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Girly personal bullshit, avert your eyes unless otherwise interested in more of "Star's stupid drama bullshit".
I don't really know who my dad is. I had a guy I was told to call my dad as a kid, because he was tested and proven to be my brother's dad, but he refused to be tested for me least he have to pay more child support. I don't share any of his physical or emotional characteristics - while my brother and he are almost indentical personality wise, though my brother gets most of his looks from our mother. (And I look like a mini-version of her, which she loved because people would ask if we were sisters instead of mother and daughter.)
In case it isn't obvious by this point, me and my brother's father weren't close. I wouldn't really visit him by choice and when I did, I just spent all my time sitting in the corner colouring or playing cards or something.
Instead, I had an uncle, who in fact wasn't actually blood-related to my family at all. As far as I know, he picked my mom up at a bus stop. She expected to have to sleep with him in exchange for the ride home. He didn't, he just honestly wanted to help her get home. He had been a bad man in his past - he was missing an eye from an attempt to make a bomb as a teenager that backfired. He had a family of his own, but he lost them due to drug use. By the time he met my mother, he was cleaned up, but saw she wasn't. And she had me and my brother to look after. So he was basically our dad - or at least mine, since my brother and his dad did get along.
Unsurprisingly, years and years of drug use and other crazy shit will fuck your body up mighty bad. He was told he was supposed to die before I was ever born. But, inexplicably, he survived. He told me when he found out my mother was pregnant again, and was keeping me despite pressures to abort me, he faught extra hard so he could help me live like he did my brother. Which he did. My fondest childhood memories are the ones I spent with him.
He died when I was 11. I hadn't gotten to visit him in awhile, but was none-the-wiser. I was always told he would have to leave me someday, and to be ready for it, but I never thought about it of course. I just assumed he was invincible, and the doctors were wrong. They had already been proved wrong again and again for years. I came home from school to find my mom (who I hadn't talked to in months, maybe a year) on the couch with my grandma. They told me the news. I didn't cry until I finally got to retreat to my room after them repeatedly asking me over and over if I was okay and how they were amazed I wasn't hysterical.
I found out later he left a large sum of cheddar for me behind in his will. I didn't know how much, just that there was cheddar there.
Basically the laws where I lived meant I wouldn't really see the cheddar till I turned 19, which I did last month.
I hadn't talked to his family at all since his death, and now I've been in contact with his sister a lot to make arrangements to receive the cheddar.
It's years later and it's like having the old wounds forcibly ripped open, and I'm going through a lot of other shit at the same time. It's just a bad feeling.
I miss him.
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