A f*ck you letter

I have two words for you:

F*CK YOU.  Wanna know why?

For the last 10 years of my life, I've had a second dad.  One who gave me $400 to move into my first apartment when I was broke.  Who bought my old Cavalier off of me when it was essentially a lawn ornament at my mom's when I was away at college.  Who quick hugged me when I left for Spain - pretty much his first show of emotion for me.  Who knew I was making faces behind his back all those times, but didn't say a word.  Who let me take my mom with me to NYC twice.

One that doesn't look away when I'm crying, or try to make me feel worse than I already do when I've done something wrong.  One who was there when I graduated from college and congratulated me when I got into grad school.  Convinced me that I would get the new job I applied for so why worry? Who came over to my house one day when I was at work because I swore a mouse climbed into my bathtub faucet.  One who lets me relentlessly make fun of him and sometimes laughs along with me.  One who lets my mom still spoil me at Christmas despite the fact that I am 28 years old.

He was there when I had surgery and had to stay in the hospital for two nights.  He's moved me in and out of various apartments over the years.  He's looked away each time a new cat found it's home in my apartment.  He let me play Wii when I'm sure he'd rather be watching the game.  He's taught me random facts of information I otherwise never would have known or cared to know for that matter.

He's loved me.  He's dealt with my grandma when no one else could.  He's watched my nephews burp and fart and grow into teenagers.  He held Chase as an infant when we all thought he would break him, and he just looked on amused.  He kept me in line.  And he's told me numerous times how my oldest brother is his favorite, because he says the least.

But most importantly, he's made my mom happy.

And then you had to show up two years ago and show your ugly face.  You had to make him sick.  Had to make him struggle for all the things in life that he might have taken for granted.  Made him face days when he couldn't hold anything down, when he couldn't get out of a chair without help.  Made him have two major surgeries in a 6 week time span.

Made my mom cry.  Made my mom worry.  Made HIM worry.  Made him want to give up.  Made me cry.  Made me worry.  Made me question why in the world was God doing this to him?

I don't hate anyone.  Hate is a worthless feeling to have toward anything...or anyone.

Except for you cancer.

I HATE YOU.  So f*ck you.