I'm pretty sure you can't read this, but I'll apologize anyway.

I lost my dad two years ago today.
When I first got the call that he had somewhat unexpectedly passed away, I felt mostly relief.
He had suffered for years with debilitating and progressive dementia. With his death, the burden of his lost mind yet functioning body was lifted from my step-mom as well as me and my brothers and sisters.
The timing was also just before Christmas and my family and I were in the process of selling our beloved Pasadena home and moving our lives across the country to New York.
I was busy trying to create a happy holiday, move away from everything familiar, still recovering from surgery complications from a year earlier, and ill with an undiagnosed autoimmune disease.
I didn't give myself time to mourn.
Flash forward to the present and I am struggling with a daughter who is making stupid teenager bad choices. I can't stop crying these last few days because of it, and I've felt somewhat confused at the depth of my sorrow.  I mean, we've all lived through those years, right?  It shouldn't be so difficult to parent them with the benefit of hindsight...
I realized this morning that my desperate sadness is tied in with my loss from two years ago that's never been examined.  My dad struggled with mental illness as well as the addictive disorders that come along with self medicating those issues.  His early decline was a result of those lifelong struggles and I never questioned or challenged his choices, or shared his life from an adult perspective.  Now all those issues, both genetic and learned, are tied up in my challenge of parenting a highly intelligent, but also highly anxious teen who seems to be trying out any and all recreational substances.
Sigh.
Sorry Dad, that I was glad that you died, I miss you.
I have so many questions I never got to ask.
And I don't think I apologized for my teen years.
And I'm sure I didn't say I love you enough.
Also, you forgot to say sorry to your kids.
I love you
That's all.