The Dead Father and The Homosexual Boy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

What happens when a father who committed suicide never truly dies? what more purpose does he have with his homosexual son? Please comment on spelling grammar and severe content errors.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Dead Father and The Homosexual Boy

Submitted: September 13, 2010

Reads: 229

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Submitted: September 13, 2010



There is more for my family that I must do. I have not yet finished my duties on this earth because of my addiction, my sinful nature, and my mistakes that made me what I am now. I never believed in ghosts, spirits, or anything paranormal. I was just a father who was struggling with alcoholism and could not bare the burdens of friends and family constantly bombarding me about my problems. They were consistently attacking me. And that is why I decided to take my life.

As I watch the survivors of my family go on in life. I see things that I would have never seen had I remained alive and became well. If I had continued my life the disturbances that precede me may not have occurred.

But the ending of my life was unbearable for me to handle. The tears that shed my loss. The empty hearts of despair that would not let me in. My youngest son who was raised by women because I was to weak to teach him how to play baseball. I was so very weak.

My middle son, the one who is most like me could have made better choices if I had been around. Maybe he would not be dead now had I stopped myself from dying that night. I would have never allowed for him to go into the armed forces had I still been living. I would have been harsher on him. But I was to weak.

The oldest, though not mine, has been successful. However he has the anger that I could only show drunk, and probably the stupidity of me when angry. Anger is such a pitiful weakness.

My wife never remarried. She looked to others to help raise our children. Family members and babysitters. The destruction and the insanity that our house has witnessed when she was not around. I can't believe some of the things that occurred their when there was no one around. It was a burden. A big burden I could have prevented had I... Had I been strong like my wife.

But none of this can be changed. It is to late. Time can not be turned back for me to prevent myself from pulling that trigger with a searing bullet penetrating my brain. Maybe had the others not been so harsh on me. If I had possibly opened up and not had been so damn stubborn. But I know there is no sense babbling about these things. To them I am dead. I am nothing but a lost man in the world who like all of us ended up in the ground. To me, there is no heaven or hell. There is just our legacy and the effects of our lives.

I ended mine before I had the chance to effect the lives of my children like good fathers will. But however I am very thankful for one thing. And that is another chance at entering the afterlife through me being remembered for generations to come.

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