There is a lot I miss about my father. I miss never having known him in the way I know the man who raised me and in the way my son knows me. I miss the memories I have of my interactions with him as a child, as they continually fade into darkness. I miss the bad exchanges we shared because at least they were with him. I miss standing above his grave with my wife holding me as I broke down crying.
I dont need exclusively good memories after 22 years, I just want some.
I have his flag in my hall, a constant reminder of him. I carry his disease with me as a constant reminder that my indulgence is ever teetering on compulsion, daily. I have the memory of his poor behavior that informs the decisions I make with my interpersonal relationships.
He was a deeply flawed man, but he is a man who I deeply miss.