Coming up soon will be one year since I last saw my daddy when he actually knew who I was.  I stopped by my daddy’s house June 2017 on the way home from visiting my childhood friend who had just moved back home.  I did not tell my daddy or step-mother to expect me and just dropped in.  The reason I did not call ahead was because I was not going to take the chance of not feeling welcome or being put off.  I was determined to go to my childhood home and see my daddy with or without my step-mother’s permission.  I felt like, just this once, I would act like I was still part of the family and had every right to come to my childhood home without an invitation.  My daddy was so happy to see me.  He just smiled and kept patting me.  I knew I had done the right thing and felt bad I had not done it more often.  My daddy was obviously glad to see me and it was like Christmas morning to him.  He knew who I was and made it clear I mattered.  At one point during the visit he became serious and turned to me earnestly.   He said “I’m sorry for what happened”.  I said “it’s okay” although I had no idea what he was talking about.  It seemed to mean a lot to him for me to know he was sorry because he said it several times.  After my daddy died (November 2017) I began to wonder if he was talking about how we had become distant once he remarried.   I never felt welcome or comfortable visiting daddy with his second wife although I could never really say she was anything but polite.  At the time I always felt she and daddy loved each other and were happy together.  It was only after my daddy died that I began to doubt the whole situation.  For example, in my daddy’s obituary, it said he was a farmer.  My daddy was not a farmer (unless you count planting deer and quail plots).  How could my step-mother live with my daddy for over ten years and not know what he spent his life doing for a living?  Another thing that concerned me was something one of the relatives from my step-mother’s family said at the funeral.  She said, “of all her husbands we liked him the best”.  That seemed like an odd thing to say to me, like he was just one in a long line of many and it was a bonus he was liked.  I learned at the funeral that my step-mother had been married five times and later learned she had profited much from each marriage.  Some of her other husbands were dead and some weren’t but I could not help but wonder if she was a predator of some kind.  One of my own relatives messaged me after my father died.  She indicated that she had some information about the circumstances of one of my step-mother’s previous marriages and indicated there were suspicious circumstances.  More than one person told me they thought my daddy had been slowly poisoned over the course of the marriage to my step-mother.  I also found out an adult protective services case was active at the time of my daddy’s death. God knows the truth and thankfully I am comfortable that what ever did or did not take place will all come to light in the end.  For now, it is enough for me to know my daddy did care enough about me to apologize for whatever it was that he thought he did.  I am so glad I was able to see him one last time when he was somewhat lucid.  Things went down hill from there very quickly but a least I have this memory. May 2018

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