... · 5:29pm Jul 13th, 2017
WARNING!!!
The content of this blog has nothing to do with my stories. This is me making an attempt to vent some emotional baggage. If you do not wish to be concerned with such, you have been warned.
I... uh... Heh. This is actually kinda hard.
I need to talk. It was suggested to me by some people that if I don't discuss this with someone, even through some kind of journal, it's going to backlash on me.
It kinda already has, hence why I'm doing this now.
Anyways, you all know that my father passed away a couple years ago due to a house fire. The cause is assumed to be the lint in the dryer lighting up, and he had been napping in his chair. By the time he realized what was going on, the smoke had gotten to him. The only good news I got that day was that it was relatively quick and painless. The smoke put him down before the fire got to him.
But that's not why I'm talking.
See, my mother and I weren't there when it happened. I told you all my uncle and aunt were kind enough to take us in. What I didn't tell you is that they took us in a month before the fire. As in, we walked out on him. I loved my father. He was my hero as a child, and there is no doubt in my mind that he loved me, but he was also battling with being bi-polar, and I think, think, he was labelled clinically insane at one point. Not to the point of instability but enough to be considered eccentric. I don't know. I never got a straight answer regarding that.
Things hit a breaking point. Not for the first time.
I grew up a quiet kid, not real interested in making waves. Looking back, I realize I was a slow grower. Not physically, but emotionally and mentally. Maturity wasn't something that came to me easily. So, by the time I was a teenager, my dad was all set to deal with a rebellious little shit that thought he knew better. He got the wallflower that could barely stand up for himself instead. I think he must have thought that maybe he got lucky and his son was gonna completely miss that stage.
Well, I hit it alright, right after I got out of school. My dad was strict, and sometimes it felt unfair. I ended up calling him out on said unfairness more and more, and before long the two of us couldn't have a conversation for longer than a half-hour without trying to verbally kill each other.
That's not to say we didn't have our good days. We did. They just... got fewer and far in between as time went on. I realized before long that dad and I likely weren't ever going to have a very good relationship. I almost left... but then I remembered mom.
I'm a coward, I freely admit that. I run from danger, and don't often stick my neck out for others, regardless of how close they are to me, but mom? No. This wasn't about fear, or courage, or what I wanted. I just knew, somehow, that if I left... well, some abusers don't even realize they are abusers. That's the thought that went through my head. I couldn't bring myself to do that to her, so I stayed. I antagonized my father so that most of his steam would be burnt out on me by the time mom got to him.
But... after having time to think about it, with dad gone, and having the chance to finish growing up... I realized that I was a large part of why dad got as bad as he did. I fought back when it would have been better to just lay down and accept I was wrong. I blamed him for things that were my own fault. I took out aggression I didn't even know I had on him.
And he just took it. Like the father he is, he took it and kept taking it, right up until he couldn't anymore.
And then mom and I left. The truly surreal part though was that it was what dad wanted. Not divorce or anything like that, but just... gone. He wanted us to leave. He wasn't even angry. Not eager either. It was the strangest damn day of my life.
He died in the fire a month later.
The last words I ever said to him was a text message telling him to stop sending me text messages.
Like I said. I'm a coward. That extends to emotions as well. I fear being close to people, mostly because I can't handle the thought of fucking up and making them hate me. But after that day, I hug my mom every day. I kiss my grandma and grandpa every time I see them. I occasionally help my cousin work on vehicles. I spend a week every month with my best friend. I go out of my way to drag my mother out of the house when she's been cooped up too long.
I fucked up badly alright, and it cost me my father. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm seeing breadcrumbs where there aren't any. Maybe I'm letting grief dictate my feelings... but if I'm right, I don't ever want someone who cares about me to die thinking I hated them. I don't ever want to push someone into the situation I pushed dad into.
I blame myself for what happened to dad, because I know that, while I am not the sole cause, I played a part. I pushed him away, and made his situation worse by antagonizing him. Maybe that's why he didn't try and stop us from leaving. He knew we were slowly killing each other.
I'm sorry for dumping this on you all. In fact, I'm gonna put a warning at the top to spare those of you who don't want to see me being angsty and not updating the stories. But I had to say something, I couldn't talk about it with my family. A few of you haven been incredibly understanding with me since the beginning, and I like to think maybe there's a spark of friendship there because of it. I don't know. All I know is I needed to talk, to release all of that.
For those of you who read all of that, thank you.
A coward wouldn't have shared any of that with us. You adored your father, afraid to fight back and set off his temper, but you did so anyway. That is the very definition of bravery.
And I think, from what we're being told here, your father knew you still loved him no matter what. Love is about letting go, and that's what he did. He let go so you can be happy. In the end, though his death was unfortunate, dreadful and very undeserving, he died knowing he was love.
The love between family, regardless how squashed down it is, is a flame which never dies out.
I wish for the best, for you, your mother and your whole family. No doubt your father wishes the same from above.
Thank you
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You're... welcome?
Pal that is so sad! But you weren't the cause of him getting worse. That kind of self hurting thoughts are bad for you. So here let it out. Let all the emotions that you've stuffed inside. Take it from a guy who has similar problems with beating themself up over things.
Dude... I... I honestly don’t know what to say... our life stories are eerily similar, Seeing that I’m a late bloomer (case in point, at age 35 I like MLP), and I have issues with dad too, with the differences being: I’m not an only child, so the “going away with mom” scenario is not something that is applicable to me, and that, unlike with you, My dad is not my hero: he’s my everything. He shows me the best and worst in humanity, my reference frame on conduct is not “What would Jesus do?” but “What Would Dad Do?” and I have a cse of expecting too much from him... so when he fails, when he shows me the worst humankind can do I lash out... so our good times have great gaps of us not talking to each other in between...
now about you: thank you for being brave enough to share this, as a friend and as a cautionary tale I thank you....
Ouch, I feel sorry for you. Never be afraid to vent like this and know a lot of us are here to listen and help in any way we can.
2 years ago both my parents died. 767 days ago the last words I said to my mother was "I fucking hate you." I didn't even say anything to my father. Just passed him on my way to work. I just remember his fucking face as I turned back. At 1am that night their bodies were found in their vehicle in a parking lot, unknown cause of death. I think about them every day.
It's good that you're talking about this, brother. I felt better confiding in friends, even though it was through a computer screen.
Thank you for sharing this with us. If you ever want to talk, we're here brother.
Believe me, I can sympathize. My mother died in a car accident more than twenty years ago and it STILL hurts for me to think of it.
I am very sorry to hear that you have such a heavy emotional weight to bear. I cannot say I know what it is like yet to lose a parent, but I heavily sympathize with you.
I also don't think you are a coward or weak for admitting this, and like someone else said above, it took a lot of courage and inner strength for you to do so. Many people don't even take that first step, and yet you've opened yourself up about something that is affecting you deeply.
Sometimes, I think it is good to vent. It isn't healthy bottling up such feelings and such inside; I know that from experience. At the very least, I think you have a lot of good people here willing to be a shoulder to lean on when you need it, me included if you want to. Take care, and good luck with your life. Although we haven't talked too much, I'd still like to consider you a friend, and I'll do my best to provide whatever support I can, even if it's just listening.
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Thank you, all of you.
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Thank you. It bears repeating again. Thank you. And yeah, I consider you and everyone else friends as well.