I wish you were dead so that the amount I miss you could be more understandable to others. I wish you were dead so that I didn't feel like missing you was my choice. I wish you were dead so that I didn't wake up thinking maybe I could fix things. And I wish you were dead because I hate feeling like this is in some way my fault. It's been seven years, and even though I was the one that said I couldn't have contact with you until your girlfriend would stop the drama every time we did, it's always been your decision. Sometimes I wonder if I've made a big deal out of nothing, if events have been distorted into a bigger deal over time, but I don't think that's true. When she had me and your granddaughter in the car and threatened to drive off the cliff with us, I knew I had to keep us safe first, and I wish you weren't the sacrifice which that required. I wish you'd have drawn a line when the incidents were smaller. I wish you could stand up for me now. If you love her, ok. We don't chose who we love and you have too much invested now for leaving her to even be an option, and I understand that. I understand your new children are important to you too, and I wouldn't wish to inflict her insanity on them if you left her. But old children are still your children, and I miss you. I was happy when we started talking this year, but all you'd talk about was her, and I have never hated someone so much. In other circumstances I'd try to understand, try to appreciate that she undoubtedly has a serious condition, try to understand that her upbringing might be largely responsible for that, and maybe feel sorry for her or think of ways to help. But it's personal, and her attacks were too personal, and what's more, they were dangerous. I can't forget that, and I can't pretend to forgive that ever. We only had a few emails when I got in contact a few months ago, and I wanted so much to share with you all the things I've done in the past seven years, all the books I've loved and wanted to share with you, all the jokes I've heard that I know you'd laugh at, all the places I've been and wanted to tell you about, all the music that's meant something to me and I wanted you to hear too. I've wanted to tell you about my loves. I wanted you to be impressed by the people I've known. I wanted to tell you about my boyfriend. I wanted you to meet him, because he's so amazing and in a lot of ways reminds me of you. I wanted you to be impressed by his talents, and I wanted to listen to you talk about the things you have in common. I wanted to tell you about my daughter. I wanted you to know how brilliant she is, that I've done an ok job despite so many inevitable mistakes. And I wanted to catch up quickly, because I didn't know how long it would last, and it was too short. I'm hurt now even more, because this time it was you that said you won't have contact with any more, that I was hateful. I wasn't hateful. I just can't forgive the hate that was directed at me, and I didn't want the person responsible for that to be the only topic you would talk about. I wanted you to know I love you, because those are always words I've had trouble saying. I wanted you to know that even though I'm grown up, I still miss bedtime stories, I miss hiking with you, I miss adventures, I miss you teaching me to drive, I miss playing chess, I miss listening to you play music. I know now this won't be resolved, and that when you die all I'll be able to think about is all the years I could have known you, and I know I won't be able to help but think of all the things I could've said or done differently that might have meant I could have shared those years with you. I miss you, and I love you.