I'm still waiting.

Usually, at some point through out the week I find myself thinking about him.
Now, I know what you're probably thinking, a (ex) boyfriend/girlfriend?
Nope, it's my dad, though that doesn't make it any better.

Whenever I think about him I always wonder as to what I should refer to him as, dad, my brother's dad, or Tim. Since, he's biologically not my father, only my brother's.

Lately, I've tried to apply "Forgive and Forget" to my life. I just can't seem to do it.
Ever since he got kicked out of our house, then a two year process of divorce, I couldn't look at him the same way. As a kid, there were times I loved him, sure, he was the only father figure I had ever known growing up.
I was four or five when my mom and him started dating, soon after that he moved in. I'll never forget that day, that day a new strange, nice young man was knocking on our door. As he started to bring in his belongings, he started playing around and joking, I knew I'd get along with him.

About a year after, they got married. After the main vows were said and spoken, he got down on one knee in front of me, the flower girl and said his own vows to me. To this day, I can't remember what he said at all, but I remember that he gave me a necklace after the vows, he then said I was his little girl, and would never leave.

After that, we all got along like a family, with a few bumps and bruises, but hey, what couple doesn't fight? Now that I look back, I was a kid, and didn't understand what was really going on. Supposedly he cheated on her a week after getting married, I remember that vaguely. A few times, after a big fight and all the yelling was done, they would buy me little things, like a tea cup set, or a stuffed animal.

Now, this one day. I remember it so well, I was playing in my room, then I heard my name being called from the living room; so I went. By this time, my mom was pregnant with my little brother, and I was 6 or so.
The look on their faces was painfully serious, though I heard no fighting before hand, so I wasn't afraid.
They both said, slowly and calmly, "Daddy is going away for a little while, he's leaving."
I stood there, looked at him, then ran to my room. Furious, and confused, I didn't even know what to think of it at such a young age.

I'm sorry for boring you, I mean if anyone is reading this. I could go on, but I'll just say that he eventually came back for a few years, then left for good.
To this day, I don't talk to him - I lashed out in front of him five years ago, we haven't spoken since.

I don't go a week, let alone a day without thinking about this. We didn't even talk at the funerals, we just dealt with the awkward tension I guess.
I don't know why, but I just can't let anything go, I don't want to. I don't need him, but I'd at least want to talk to him a little, to see if he's even changed in the slighted.

As a little girl, I had always wished for a dad, someone to curl up with on the couch and watch Pokemon. Though that time and void has passed, I just don't want to hold this grudge anymore.
I'm ready to accept everything, it's fine if he still doesn't love me, but I'm just tired of this feeling and wave of sadness.