Posts tagged ‘Fathers’

July 27, 2011

Before and after my Dad died

I was numb. I was shocked. Although I knew it was coming, somewhere in the back of my mind I just could not process the thought of him dying. Not only dying, but committing suicide. But after he did kill himself I was OK with his death. I was not hurt or angry that he had killed himself. I understood why he would and he had explained why he was going to do it.

But when we got a copy of his will, that is when I became angry and hurt. It is not that I wanted money. It was that he left my step-sister pretty much everything. He left my brother a bug chunk of money as well (which I expected). But me and my sister – $500! And that was not the hurtful part.

What hurts?

1) When your own father misspells your name in his will.

Yes, he did not even spell my name right!

But, two, was the conversation I had not long before his death that hurt the most!

I thought I would have the opportunity to go back to him and readdress what he said.

But that day never came.

June 8, 2011

The Family Reunion

As that day in September of 2008 approached, I was filled with anxiety.  Not only would my Dad be there, but so would my Nanny and my sister (who I had not seen nor spoken to since 2005).

In addition, I was completely off of all psychotropic medication.  I was managing my life well, but still lived in fear of having a setback.

I had a plan on how to handle almost every situation that came at me while I was there. If my Nanny made mention of my relationship with m Dad, I would just tell her that we would talk about it later and that it was her birthday and I was there to celebrate her. If my sister would not speak to me, I was OK with that too. I know at some point I had hurt her enough to where she no longer felt comfortable with me in her life. I was OK with that, I had felt that way about others in my life and, although I was not sure why, I could understand not wanting chaos in my own life. My Dad, well he had a way of getting under my skin… my weight. All of my life I had been to fat in his opinion. And when I lost all of that weight, every time he saw me, he would say how great it was that I had finally lost some weight. It is sad really, because as thin as I was, I was very unhealthy. However, by 2008, I had started gaining weight back. The ultimate plan was to leave. Mike and I, even today, have a deal… if ever one or the other wants to leave a situation – we will leave together. No matter what.

As we arrived my Nanny was driving up as well. (That’s right, on her 95th birthday she was driving up!) As I greeted her the first thing she asked me was if I had seen and talked to my Dad. I replied I had not but I was sure he was inside. I am sure my discomfort gleamed on my face. She just gave me a hug and then walked inside. She never mentioned a word to me again that day about my Dad.

As I finally made it inside I saw my Dad, my brother and my sister. I felt this incredible sense of dread come over me. But as I got closer my brother hugged me and whispered in my ear “Everything will be alright.” My sister then gave me a hug and said, with tears in her eyes, that she had missed me. I told her I had missed her too. Then I made my way round to the rest of the family, giving hugs and asking how everyone was doing. And then I saw my Dad.

Dad, “Hey there Pooh (my childhood nickname) you look like you are gaining weight.” I replied, “Dad, I love you, but my weight is none of your business.” I remember Mike reaching for my hand. My Dad turned red then said, “well you look good.”

Then I noticed his leg! It was awful looking and for whatever reason I immediately ask if his cancer had returned. He hushed me and said he just thinks it is a cream he used. But you could see it in his face, he knew what I had said was probably the case. Then he said he was going to the doctor next week.

My Dad’s own words “At Labor Day the start of September my right leg began to swell and look very muscular. I guessed because that was where I was rubbing testosterone gel on it and it was just becoming muscular and strong. I was so wrong. By the middle of September the leg had changed to a blue-green-yellow color and my wife had me go see my favorite GP-MD. When he saw the leg he said CANCER. Another PSA was done and came back at 51.6.

In October my right leg began to bleed and produce a whitish liquid. Pus I guess. This lasted a few weeks and then cleared up.”

That day will live in my mind forever, it was the beginning of the only relationship I ever really had with my Dad and it was the beginning of a renewed relationship with my sister. It was also the last celebration I would have with my Nanny.

The relationship with my sister is still alive today. Sadly, I do not believe it will ever be what it once was. My heart was broken when she left in 2005 and cut me off, and although I am sure she had her reasons, I can never suffer that hurt again. So I will guard my heart forever. It will always be somewhat fragile. Broken pieces put back together, no matter how strong the glue might be, are never as strong as they were when the heart was whole.

The relationship with my Dad was a ruse. I had no idea until his death that I was a pawn in his life to get the attention he needed and/ or wanted from his wife. In addition, I believe he knew that without some type of a relationship with me he would never get to know my son. And being a grandfather to Jake was something he really wanted. Despite that, I am glad I had it. I learned so much during the time with my Dad. Although, in the beginning, I was just a tool to gain attention from Elly, as time went by I think maybe for the first time ever he began to see me as his daughter. And for the first time possibly ever, I think he felt remorse. Not only for what he had done to me and my sister, but for what he had done to my Mom. A week before he died, he disclosed his part in her death. Something many had suspected over the years.

He was there!

December 26, 2010

Happy Birthday

I have pondered all day on what to get my Dad for his birthday.  He would have been 68 yrs old today if he had not shot himself in July. Of course he might have been dead anyway from cancer, who’s to know?

My Nanny (his Mom) never forgave me for accusing my Dad of molesting me.  And asked me often to recant my statement so my Dad’s criminal record could be cleared.  I always said the same thing “I am so sorry Nanny, but it is just not something I can do.”  She would follow with “It really hurts me.”  And I would say “I know it does Nanny and I hate that it does, but there are  some things you just can’t undo.” She would drop it and so would I.  Of all the people to ever be apart of my life I loved her the most.  I never asked her to choose between her son and myself.  I loved her to much!  And I am sure my Dad could never tell her the truth because he loved her just as much.

So my gift is forgiveness.


For your birthday I have decided to give you something big! My forgiveness, not for molesting me (I did that years ago), but for never letting Nanny know the truth.

Hell of a spot to be in I am sure.  Tell her the truth and suffer her enormous disappointed or deal with the guilt of knowing how much you had hurt your daughter and continued to do by not owning the truth.  Or maybe you felt no guilt at all, I will never know.

So Dad, Happy Birthday!  I hope your soul or energy or whatever it is that may be left behind is at peace. Since you and Nanny both are dead I am not sure what it is worth, but I forgive you.

I will always wish that you had told her the truth, just like I will always wish you had been a different, better, Dad.  But you didn’t and you weren’t.  So here we are or at least here I am.


November 11, 2010


While hospitalized, and although I was incredibly broken, I still had that survival instinct that I talked about in earlier blogs.

I wanted to live but I was not sure how.  The pain I felt was so great it was debilitating.

As the weeks went by I worked with different therapist.  I shared what happened in my childhood, being molested by my father, with them.  I also shared how I hurt so much.  I hurt and hurt and hurt.  It seemed to never let up.  Even when my son would come to visit I hurt.  And I hated that I could not stop hurting even for him.

So a therapist suggested that maybe I should confront my Dad.  And, at this point, I had nothing to lose.  I could literally feel myself slipping away.  If I did not do something drastic I knew I would die with or without medication.


So my therapist called my Dad; amazingly, he agreed to come for a one on one therapy appointment.

Before he arrived the therapist and I rehearsed.  And when he arrived he was brought into a room and set at a table across from me.  The therapist sit in between us.


At first I calmly asked him why he molested me.  He answered “I don’t know.”  He had no inflection in his voice.  As if we were just talking about the weather.  I then began to cry, to scream.  I screamed “How can you not know?”  I continued “You have ruined me! I will never be ok!”  He hung his head and said he was sorry.  He said he had seen a therapist himself and he was trying to figure it all out.  He then said “I swear I never touched your sister.”  I screamed back “You are a liar!”  And then I said “I am done!”  I ran out and back to my room.

I did not see my Dad again for awhile.  Oddly the next time I saw him it was as if nothing had ever been said between us.

I was still broken.  But this event gave my meds a chance to start to work.  And before I left the hospital to go and stay with Tammy and James I was numb.  That is what the medicine does.  It numbs you.  And you don’t care because at least you do not hurt anymore!

August 31, 2010

The second time I told

Just several weeks before my Mom died I told her what Dad had done.  They had just gotten divorced so I thought it would be OK… I was so wrong!!

That night she drank more than I had ever seen her drink.  And sometime shortly after midnight she woke my sister and I out of bed.  She demanded to know why I had seduced my Dad and if Kissy had done the same thing.  She then said we should die and went and got her pistol.  I ran with Kissy into a bedroom and baracaded the door.  I hid Kissy and I in the closet for hours and Mom yelled and screamed from outside the window and door. Finally she passed out.  When she woke I was gone… Kissy would not leave with me.

I stayed with Angie at her Dad’s (Ray) for a couple of weeks before Mom called crying and apologizing.  She begged me to come and stay with her.  She said she and I would talk and everything would be OK.  She told me she loved me and promised to not to drink.

She kept that promise for almost a week… and then she died!

Her blood alcohol level was enough to kill her by itself.  She died in a one car accident near Trinity, TX

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