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Remember, You Don't Owe Your Abusive Father a Father's Day Visit

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themighty.com

They used to call me his mini me. I had his deep dimples and looked like there was no question that he was my father. I liked that.

I used to anyway. I was a freshman in college and spring break was coming up. It was time to go home for the break. My parents wanted me home.

They missed me. I sat on my friends’ bed in her dorm room and told her under no uncertain terms did I want to go home for break.

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