Late to the party, as usual. This story has been coming up more than usual lately, here goes. Growing up my father and I butted heads regularly. I was a privileged teenage asshole and he was nicotine friending rage monster. For some reason one day it just clicked. I was working a landscaping job, on the weekends, and had let my dad know, earlier in the week, I would be coming home to shower, after work, then leaving immediately to go to a friend's birthday party with my then girlfriend, now wife. When speaking together he nodded and agreed that would be fine. Then came the weekend; I arrive home, shower, and watch some tv. As I'm getting ready to leave, my dad asks me where I'm going. I remind him that I was going to a party for a friend. He became infuriated and began telling me that everyone else was working hard around the house while I went out partying, I should mention my family was preparing for a move. I got mouthy and told him to "fuck off" in a matter of speaking and left. A short while later, my sister calls me and tells me she had come over to help my parents and found my things thrown across the front lawn and wanted to make sure everything was ok. it was right here that everything kind of clicked. I told my future wife we had to cancel plans, turned my '94 Camry around, and drove her back home. I arrived back home, things still spread out on the front lawn, hung my head, and began carrying everything to the garage. I went inside without a word, marched upstairs, and began removing carpeting from the bedrooms. As I got down on my knees and started removing the staples on the floor, with my sister, my older brother walked in and explained that he was heading out to go visit some friends. A lot of things ran through my mind at that moment, but just like before, something clicked, and I finally understood life is not fair. Sometimes you just have to shut up and deal with it. I was a privileged little white kid born into a family who loved me. Who gives a fuck if I missed some party.