Never doubted my fathers love, but more than that we were the best of friends.
My parents got divorced when I was ten. Right at Christmas. My father was in the bathroom crying.
My mother is a hardass tho, she had no mercy.
Not that my dad didn't fuck it up, but really they weren't compatible.
My dad always said that they thing that kept them together was smoking dope, they were both huge heads.
So when they got divorced, instead of family, I had two separate parents and I went back and forth.
My mother was my mother, like love, but not friends.
With my dad tho, we were buddies, he was my best friend and I was his.
He was holding me when I came into this world, and I was holding him when he punched out.
Quite the thing to look into your fathers eyes as he dies, but I'm glad I was the last man he saw as he departed.