In the typical families we are given a mother and a father and they automatically love us more than ourselves. I was never blessed to be in a typical family. Today I would like to discuss the man who sired me. He was only given one daughter in this life, and he always had the ability to make me feel worthless because I was born a girl. Life is never fair I guess. Many fathers seek to ensure that their daughters know how to live with or without them. Mine never cared enough for that. I was the child that never should have been born. He always doted on his four boys and never made them feel optional. After three and a half decades I gave up on him ever loving me, or him making me a priority in this life. I have not spoken to him in almost a year now. As I sit here tonight I realize that I have lost nothing but the feeling of inferiority. I lost the man that was my true father almost 8 years ago: my Papa. He was my grandfather and he worshiped the ground I walked on. His loss has nearly cut me in half. I digress from the point that I am attempting to make here. With my parental figure of the male gender being removed from my life I don’t have that person telling me I’ll never succeed at anything I do. I will never be reminded of the failure I had become. The other day during a restless slumber I was awaken by the telephone ringing. I never answered the call, but had the feeling that the person on the other end was telling me that he had died. I have no clue why I felt that, but I did. I became aware that his living or his dying mattered not to me. In my mind he is the monster out of a fairy tale. I will find no joy in his eventual passing, but I will feel no sorrow either. What kind of person does that make me to feel nothing to the man that provided me life? I don’t have the answer to that question and probably never will, but I’m alright with that. As long as I wish him no harm then my conscience is clean and my soul will remain intact.