I wished he would just die. End his suffering, and mine.
You’re dead, and I’m free.
Mom was always my favorite. Dad was a drunk so it wasn’t a difficult choice really, but my mom has always been like a superhero to me. When he busted the door down, I hid behind my mom begging him to just go away. Leave us alone forever. This wasn’t the first time he was being an abusive drunk and certainly wouldn’t be the last, not by a long shot.
My dad showed up for my birthday, but he was late… and drunk. Stumbled in with my birthday presents that weren’t wrapped. There was a soccer ball, soccer cones, and two Barbie doll tea sets. I hated soccer almost as much as I hated Barbie or anything girly. He was so proud of those gifts and so was grandma. I locked myself in the back bathroom for an hour, crying. My heart was broken. Not because of the gift choices exactly but because it just showed he knew NOTHING about me. At all.
I asked my mom to come pick me up and of course it was me being an ungrateful brat. My grandma told me I should be thankful he even showed up for me. Yes, so thankful he was there… and wasted. He passed out on the couch before I even came out of the bathroom. A few years later, Grandma told me I was going to “burn in Hell” because I told her I was not interested in a relationship with him anymore.
Every time he promised to come get us and didn’t show up, it broke my heart to watch my little brother cry his eyes out. I was long done crying for him, but I don’t think my brother ever stopped.
I found out about the cancer in February, and he died in October. I saw him one more time right before he died, and that night, I cried while praying to God to take him. I would like to say I asked so he wouldn’t suffer, but looking back I know it was because I was just sick of him hurting me. I didn’t want him to suffer; I wanted him to magically become a good dad before he died, but he didn’t.
I saw him a few days after I had Jenelle. The next day he went to the hospital and never came out. I said my goodbyes on October 30th, and went out to celebrate my favorite holiday on October 31st, with a huge sense of relief rather than grief.
My memories bring up mixed emotions. Not because I think my dad was a great guy, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t worthy of a single Father’s Day card, or the title of “dad”, but he wasn’t as bad as some are. I have a twinge of guilt from being so indifferent about his death. His death was not sad for me, it was more of a relief. No more heartbreak, no more heartache. I’d love to have a dad who is still around and is an amazing father in law to my wife and grandpa to our girls, but it just didn’t happen. Life goes on.
This post originally appeared at: http://slapdashmom.com/dear-dad/#ixzz4wCaFgRZJ
About the author: Sadie is a Phoenix transplant from St. Louis who writes slapdashmom.com with just enough honesty to get her kicked out of all the cool kids’ groups (and the PTA!). After being homeless, forced to give her daughter up for adoption, and realizing she was a lesbian at age 23, she now enjoys sharing her experiences with others who may need some help realizing there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. She talks a lot about bullying, standing up for yourself, and raising strong girls… with a little snark thrown in for good measure.