next month will mark the twentieth year since my father committed suicide.
it is a little odd, in that i have actually been fatherless for two-thirds of my life.
he was a damaged human being and has served as a cautionary tale, he taught me how not to be a shitty parent, he showed me what lies and secrets can do to your soul, and he taught me what it feels like to be left behind.
one of the biggest reasons that i haven't followed down that path is that i know what it would do to my family, and while i can be selfish, thoughtless, and focused only on my own needs - my own life, i don't think that i have it in me to do that to my mother, my sisters.
it's funny. i remember him trying to teach me how to shave a few months before he died. i think he was trying to teach me all the things that fathers are supposed to pass along to their sons, only he did it all at once, and it was confusing, irritating, and at that point i was old enough to understand that all the lies he told, the shit he would pull, that these things were not what i wanted in my life.
it was around that time that he was fighting to get custody of me... me, not my sisters, and start jr. high where he lived.
i almost did.
at the last possible moment i changed my mind and a few months we got a phone call from that side of the family. i honestly believe that had i been living there, he probably would have shot me first and then himself.
i can say that with absolute certainty. for him it wasn't about what a normal person would want when they wanted their kids to live with them, or spend time with them, with him it was about winning, it didn't matter what game what stakes, as long as he made someone else pay, or miserable he was, i don't know if happy is the right term, but it was his goal.
for years i had never really had to shave that often, maybe a few times a month and i am only just now able to grow something that resembles a beard or a moustache, i have a few silver hairs and still get zits, go figure.
so i am now 34 years old. i am getting close to how old he was when he checked out, and there are times when i look into the mirror and see parts of him in me and that scares the hell out of me.
that despite my best efforts, i made similar mistakes even having seen them made, and and having to suffer the fallout from back when he was still alive and dragging everyone he could through hell with him.
i used to hate him. then i pitied him.
i don't really know how i feel about it right now, its just really is something that something that happened two decades ago would still be something that i still think about, try to reconcile, and that sucks.
it is a little odd, in that i have actually been fatherless for two-thirds of my life.
he was a damaged human being and has served as a cautionary tale, he taught me how not to be a shitty parent, he showed me what lies and secrets can do to your soul, and he taught me what it feels like to be left behind.
one of the biggest reasons that i haven't followed down that path is that i know what it would do to my family, and while i can be selfish, thoughtless, and focused only on my own needs - my own life, i don't think that i have it in me to do that to my mother, my sisters.
it's funny. i remember him trying to teach me how to shave a few months before he died. i think he was trying to teach me all the things that fathers are supposed to pass along to their sons, only he did it all at once, and it was confusing, irritating, and at that point i was old enough to understand that all the lies he told, the shit he would pull, that these things were not what i wanted in my life.
i almost did.
at the last possible moment i changed my mind and a few months we got a phone call from that side of the family. i honestly believe that had i been living there, he probably would have shot me first and then himself.
i can say that with absolute certainty. for him it wasn't about what a normal person would want when they wanted their kids to live with them, or spend time with them, with him it was about winning, it didn't matter what game what stakes, as long as he made someone else pay, or miserable he was, i don't know if happy is the right term, but it was his goal.
for years i had never really had to shave that often, maybe a few times a month and i am only just now able to grow something that resembles a beard or a moustache, i have a few silver hairs and still get zits, go figure.
so i am now 34 years old. i am getting close to how old he was when he checked out, and there are times when i look into the mirror and see parts of him in me and that scares the hell out of me.
that despite my best efforts, i made similar mistakes even having seen them made, and and having to suffer the fallout from back when he was still alive and dragging everyone he could through hell with him.
i used to hate him. then i pitied him.
i don't really know how i feel about it right now, its just really is something that something that happened two decades ago would still be something that i still think about, try to reconcile, and that sucks.
No comments:
Post a Comment