These crazy dreams...

I had a dream the other night. It was one of those dreams that feels so real while you're in it. It brought up some feelings that I hadn't felt in many years and made me face some things that may be true, but I'm not sure I'll ever know for sure unless I do some serious detective work.
My mother and father married at 18 and I was born a week before their high school graduation. My father was an immature, spoiled brat and my mother had the burden of supporting our family. My father was a fun dad. He watched cartoons and helped me learn to ride my bike; however, he liked to party way more. There were often a lot of guys around the house, listening to music, watching Cheech and Chong, and other "activities". He could not or would not keep a job. After my brother was born, my mother decided she could only support two children NOT three. It crushed me at the time, but I would soon figure out (at a young age) that it was for the best.
My father moved in with his parents and I saw him every other weekend...sometimes. It was usually my grandparents who got me. My dad was usually too busy with friends and parties. He never paid child support. IF my mom got any money it was usually from my grandparents NOT my dad.
I think I was in second grade the FIRST time my dad went to jail. There were many subsequent trips. That's when I began to understand who my dad was. He was a small time petty thief and a fraud and a drug addict. His friends began to realize that every time he came around things went missing. He came and went in and out of my life throughout the rest of my childhood. He would get somewhat stable for a while and start making promises to me about things we would do. I later found out he would call my mother and ask to borrow money...REALLY?
During my sophomore year, he entered once again. He offered to help with my voice lessons, my choir uniforms, and most importantly, a car. Two weeks later my grandfather called to tell us Dad had been incarcerated; this time for a while. It was probably then that I hardened my heart.
He came and went several times over the next few years. He came to see me when my first child was born and wanted to know if I was going to take all my pain meds because he could really use something to get by on. UGH! There was also the time he wrote from prison to ask if I would send money so he could buy stamps and a toothbrush. I never sent any money. I would throw the letters in the trash, often unopened.
I haven't seen or talked to my father in 5 years. The last I heard he was in La Jolla, Ca. and I'm sure up to no good. This brings me to my nicotine induced nightmare a few nights ago. In my dream, I ran into my uncle and he told me my father had died in prison and was buried in a pauper's grave. When I woke up, I was very upset. Why? I don't feel responsible for him, but I do feel sorry for him. What will it feel like when this is true? He's been in poor health for years and it's not unimaginable that he could be dead.
I have a friend who had a father who left him when he was a small boy. Years later, this boy who was now a man took in his ill father to care for him until he died. I was overwhelmed. As a Christian, shouldn't we forgive and show mercy? I just don't think I could. I still have so much anger toward my father. As an adult woman with children, I realize that having my father be mostly absent was much better than having him present and causing more damage. I just look at my children sometimes and wonder how a parent could hurt their child so much. On one hand, I feel pity for him because he was so damaged when he was a child. On the other hand, I am angry that he missed out on knowing a very important person. I suppose I'll just have to deal with the issue when it's in front of me, but I wonder what that will look like...