Typed Text From Journal Page:
3/31/98 10:00 pm
You got the chicken pox two days ago – 3/29 to be accurate. You did not go to your game 3/30 although your father made a guest appearance. I called him to tell him you were quite possibly sick with the pox and would not be playing. He just called, a day and a half after finding out you were sick, to see how you were doing. He said he would bring you some books tomorrow after work. In a way I was hoping he did not call, I was disappointed when he did. So I tell myself, “sure, at 10:00 at night after his shit is taken care of!” Justifying my feelings. I realize that is the extent of your fathers expression of love. I suppose it is love. How can it not be – you are his son. I am sure in his warped ill-sensed way he loves you. He can only display that love through “pieces” for show. I suppose you have with you the memories you create while with me and the objects you possess of him. You get us both, just differently. I do not believe I will ever like your father. Mostly because he does not do things the way I do. A large part however is because he lives in world (sic) so dysfunctional that it infects your world – at least right now he does. Perhaps someday he will change. I still wonder, where will he be for you? Emma has her own issues with him. Where will be be for her?
I am not the greatest
I am not the best
I do love you
Momma
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