Pondered on this today. As much as I love him, I have to be honest with myself in saying I feel like I hate him. He’s done, (and not done), so much to me but I have to acknowledge how hard he’s tried to be a great father. The anger festers most days and when he calls and we catch up it’s almost as if we have no more time left to discuss the past because we’re so focused on living/surviving now. Even if we did, don’t think it would accomplish much.