He faught.

He was injured.

Not just physically.

He came back.

He wasnt the same.

He was still my father.

He was just an angry version of my father.

He loved me still.

He just didnt know what was going on in his head.

The nightmares.

The constant threat.

The fear.

The anxiety.

The anger.

He knew he needed help.

After so long they finnally gave it to him.

They finally recognized his illness.

He was sick.

We were sick.

Were all sick.

I never knew he would change.

I thought he would stay that way forever.

Now i have the same man back.

Hes better now.

Thank God.