Allow me to substitute my carefully written and heart wrenching post about why you should donate to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation through my Great Strides Walk page here: GreatStrides. It's tax deductible just do it. You'll feel good about yourself I promise.
Instead of writing that post, or completing the pile of work on my desk, I will share with you a small tidbit of the whirlwind that has been my mind for the past few days.
The truth always comes out, slowly in some cases, maybe over a span of 25 years even, but it always comes out. Ever so gradually my sisters and I are piecing together the time line of events and "relationships" our father had that led us all to this point. I am saving the details for our literary collaboration I am secretly thinking of entitling "The Destruction of the Father" (its no coincidence that Little Sister and I ended up at this exhibit yesterday). However, this betrayal of our trust runs much deeper than anyone was willing to admit previously. The lies men will stick with are astonishing. It seems as though they truly think they will get away with something until 5 minutes after they have been caught.
My struggle becomes more difficult as I realize that my dad is not the person I thought he was, I no longer feel as though I know him. It would be impossible for me to love him any less, but I can't help but feel a great sense of disappointment and despair for the havoc this will reek on my own relationship, my ability to trust. He is not after all a bad person, but perhaps a selfish and unfeeling person. In my eyes he has been leading two lives for the past 25 years, and even before then. Now he should prepare himself for those two neatly compartmentalized worlds to collide because nothing will ever be the same for any of us. I refuse to keep anymore secrets.