My asshole of a Dad died. Yes, he was my Dad, and yes, I do have some good memories. However, the overwhelming sense is negative.
It is a hard situation to explain because while, YES, IT IS *MY* STORY, it also belongs to my siblings and my Mother.
Dad was mentally, emotionally and verbally abusive. Dad spanked us (mostly my older sister and I) in anger. Dad left bruises on me twice when he became SO angry with me that he squeezed my arm as hard as he could as I was "too old for spanking." Dad was "sexually inappropriate" with me.
I wasn't raped. I wasn't penetrated in any way. I was given "massages" all over my body when he would tuck me in for bed.
I dreaded those nights. I was uncomfortable. I couldn't speak. I wished my Mom had been able to tuck me in.
It all stopped when I was around nine years old. I became too old for his tastes, apparently.
But the mental, emotional and verbal abuse continued. I pleaded with my Mom to divorce Dad.
She did not understand why.
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Dad had gone through one round of chemo and treatment for non-hodgkins lymphoma in the Summer of '97. He neglected to do any of the follow up care, including the monthly CAT scans the doctors had recommended.
November of '98 I had been out of the house nearly a year and a half. I was eighteen. I wrote Dad an email telling him that he was an alcoholic, and that he had molested me.
Dad simply replied, "I do not associate with people who have such vitriol for me." I had no response, and so, we did not speak.
Spring of '99 the lymphoma returned. Dad was sick. Very sick.
The doctors said it was too late. There was nothing they could do for him.
Dad lived out his last months in a Senior Living Apartment. He was 72.
Ten years ago today, Dad's body finally failed him, after a botched suicide attempt involving 30 morphine pills and a resulting week long coma, complete with dramatic ambulance ride to the hospital.
I was not there.
I did not speak to him. I do not regret this choice.
The nicest thing I had to say at his wake? "He always gave us rides places we wanted to go." In fact, that may have been the only thing I said at his wake.
I am SO glad you are gone, Dad. We are ALL so much happier without you.
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Because of Dad's lymphoma, I have trouble supporting the Lymphoma & Leukemia Society. I sometimes have trouble with supporting friends affected by lymphoma. For that mental block, I am truly sorry.
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Tonight we will likely hold another edition of #deaddadclub or #DDC for short on Twitter. Please join @room704, @VDog, and @KaiserMommy for lord knows what. Snark. "I Never," and whatever else we can get into.
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VDog writes occasionally (but mostly posts pictures) at her mommy blog, VDog & Little Man and is 1/3 of the dynamic women's blog, Room 704. VDog is a tough bitch with a soft side for bear hugs and dark chocolate.
