As you know, my mother is staying with me this week to help me settle into my new home. As a result, my father is in respite care for a week. My mother rang him this morning and, for once – for the first time in a long time – I said I’d speak to him. Voluntarily. Weird.
Then the ol’ **** said he didn’t want to speak to me. I was almost disappointed. I know I shouldn’t be – I should have stopped expecting anything from him a loooooong time ago. Somehow there’s still a little kid inside with some sort of crazy hope for something. I don’t know why, it’s all terribly irrational, but even knowing that doesn’t really help much… still confusing and brain fuddling as all heck.