My Father’s Death Was The Happiest Day Of My Life

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woman standing in sunset

I didn’t have the best childhood. To say it was dysfunctional is a huge understatement. It was filled with abuse, physical, mental, and emotional.

I hated my parents when I was younger. My father especially.

As I got older, my mom redeemed herself and became a wonderful mom. She was supportive, loving, and caring. Nothing like the woman I had to deal with as a teenager.

My father on the other hand? I hated him every single day. My feelings for him never changed. 

Why I write about my feelings for my father

I write an awful lot about my childhood trauma and my healing. I do this for two reasons.

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  1. Writing is very therapeutic
  2. For others who went through the same thing to know they aren’t alone and to not feel guilty for their hate/anger/emotions.

I forgave my parents years ago for my sh***y upbringing. There’s nothing more I can do about it. What’s done is done. Both my parents are dead now. I’m sad about my mom’s death, though. I know that if she was still alive she’d visit me here in Guatemala. I wonder what she would have said about my reaction to my own father's death. 

My father? I wish he died sooner. I wish he suffered the fate my mom did. I wish he had taken longer to die. I wonder if that makes me a bad person for thinking that. I hope not. 

I remember the day he died like it was yesterday. I had waited years for it. I used to ask God all the time, “Why don’t you just take him now? What’s the point of keeping him alive?”

It used to make me so angry that my mom’s quality of life was cut short and he got to carry on for many more years after.

Why? I was mad at God for that. I didn’t understand. How could God, who's supposed to be good and kind let me go through all of that? 

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That day

When I got the call that day that my dad died, the rush of emotions was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was the happiest day of my life. I don't know how else to describe it.

Relief, joy, satisfaction, bliss, freedom, peace. I was finally free of my tormentor. I was overjoyed that my own father was dead. 

This huge lifelong weight of anger, hate, hurt, loathing, and disgust had been lifted off of me and suddenly, I felt like I could fly.

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I felt no guilt for any of my emotions.

Finally, for the first time in my life, I was free.

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Iva Ursano is a Canadian ex-pat living her best life in Guatemala. Her passions lie in inspiring people around the world with her stories and rescuing street dogs. Read more of her on her website.

This article was originally published at Medium. Reprinted with permission from the author.