Father’s Day.

Shit.

Admittedly, those were two rather strange thoughts to be having while being held by your boyfriend on your bed. But given my day – hell, given my life as of late – it make a weird sort of sense.

Besides, I would remember Father’s Day after I didn’t have one anymore.

I shutter as I stare at the ceiling. I can see it all replayed before me when I close my eyes. The shot. The bullet hitting him. The fall. I hear screams that must have been mine, then I was lifted off my feet and taken away.

I still not sure if I’m angry about being taken away. We left him there! We left him because he wouldn’t leave me.

God! I won’t cry again. I’ve been crying and screaming too much tonight.

The funny thing? At one time I had two fathers. I had the one who raised me. Yes, I love him and I’ve hated him for good reason. What he did to West, to others. I can’t believe it was for me. Not all of it. It was always his way, and he never told us why. But he was my father. He was there for all of the father moments. He was the first man who told me I was beautiful.

And then there was my biological father. I didn’t find him until later in life. And our initial meeting wasn’t the best. In a lot of ways I was probably closer to my uncle…and trying to figure out the woman that was my grandmother. But, I got the idea that maybe he gave half a damn about me.

But I lost both of them. One to an explosion in New York that no one talks about and one to a bullet. Sure, I can still call one of them, for all of the good it will do me. He won’t talk, he won’t help…and this he wouldn’t understand.

Who would understand at this point?

You know the funny thing? The thing that would almost have me laughing in any other circumstances? In school today – God, did all of this happen in one day! – some girl pushed past me. When I asked her what her damage was, she rounded on me and shouted, “My damage? You want to know my damage?! What does a perfect little cheerleader know about damage? What does a pretty blonde like you know about damage? Go home to your perfect family, Barbie. Go home and get the fuck out of my way.”

Damage? What did I know about damage? A lot actually. And I know I can heal from most of it.

But not this. No superpower in the world heals you from this.

My power won’t stop Father’s Day from coming…without my fathers.

Father’s Day.

Shit. Shit.

Shit.