I have almost no memories of my father during my childhood days. I lived in Japan until I was 5, but the only things I can recall are visions of snow, the taste of strawberry milk and butterflies. Since it snows at least once a year in Tokyo, I understand the snow part. Although it's not easy to find anymore, strawberry milk was sold everywhere in Japan in those days. However trying to explain butterflies, I won't even get into and don't bother asking me why. I just remember them...maybe I just loved them for a certain reason, I don't know. I also remember the tenderness of my grandmother and my mother. I also remember my sister as a bratty little thing.

My mother and father were divorced when I was 3 or 4. Until this day, I believe my mother did the right thing considering what kind of man my father was. He used to gamble away all the money we had including the money my mother earned...not only that, he used to keep another woman stashed away somewhere in their own private apartment which he was paying for with my mother's money. My mother did not have an easy life back then. I have no idea why my mother chose him as her husband. He was handsome for sure...but that sure isn't a reason to get married. When I was 5, my mother decided to make a jump over to Hawaii. I don't know why we chose Hawaii, but I think it had something to do with my relatives being there. Anyway, my mother says it was just too hard to make a living in Tokyo and besides, she really needed a fresh start.

My father did come to visit us in Hawaii a couple of times and each time he did, I remember getting my hopes up thinking that this time, he would stay with us. I still knew him as my dad and remember dreaming that we would someday have a "normal" family. Predictably, he would leave within a week or so. But why was he so kind to us...to my sister and I? He bought us toys and new clothes. He would take us places while he was in Hawaii. Later on, we found out that he had asked my mother for the money to buy us those things. My mother being so kind, she kept the truth from us. We had to find out sooner or later and when we did, we grew to hate our father...the liar and the world's greatest asshole.

My sister doesn't speak or talk about my father anymore. I can tell she is still hurt by the thought of him. My father has no idea. I haven't seen my dad in ages.I no longer hate my father as I used to...he is human after all and I do realize that without him, I wouldn't be here. So I thank him from the bottom of my heart...I thank him for the sperm he deposited into my sweet mother. I also thank him for the great genes he had. Whatever, I wouldn't be here without him so....thanks dad.

Will I ever see him again? Maybe. Do I want to hear his voice? Probably. Would I cry at his funeral? Definitely. Do I forgive him for what he did to my family? I really don't know the answer to that.