Six months ago my father died, 01.12.09, I hadn't spoken to him for a few years, my life had gotten better as a result of not speaking to him. Why because he didn't know how to communicate with women except through putting them down, he was angry at women, I happen to be a women. So I felt a huge loss, but eventually free when I made the decision to stop speaking to him.
Life went on, I got married to a wonderful man, who supports and loves me for who I am, and then I got the phone call that Dad was in hospital and did I want to see him before he died, I said no. I was asked again if I wanted to go and again I said no, my reasons were that I did not want to be left with a lasting memory of him being mean to me one last time.
I didn't trust that he might have changed, so I just went to the funeral, where I was numb, but did shed a few tears, now however sitting here six months later, I am crying and realising that I need to go down to the grave to really accept that he is dead and to grieve for all the times that we could have had, if only we could have found a way to communicate that was not destructive to us both.