I remember my own father, a real man of the house, someone who knew what it was to be a man. He radiated confidence. I never felt like that. I felt as if I were an imposter all the time I was raising my kids. I felt lost and helpless. I was flying by the seat of my pants, always with a feeling I was not doing things right. Compared to my own father, I seemed completely clueless. My dad was still living when I died. I hope he ends up in a nice Hell. A nice Hell. I laughed at the thought. This wasn’t a bad place. It seemed like a tedious Hell, but there was plenty to eat, good company, and it
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