My father is dying, and i don't care
I guess that makes me a bad person.
My father may have been a good person at some time. I don't remember that time. Since i have been alive he has drowned himself in alcohol and used it as an excuse for his poor behavior.
When I was about 7 I remember a fun lady that my father used to take me to visit. After many months of bonding with fun lady she gave me a necklace. On the way home my dad told me I shouldn't lie about where the necklace came from but I shouldn't talk about it either. My mom freaked out and i wasn't sure why. It was only later i realized he was using me as a front for cheating on her.
My father raised us with a strict sense of morals. We would not lie, cheat or steal or do anything else to offend him.
This code of conduct was absolute and unwavering. If one of the three of us broke something (or ate something) in the house and nobody would fess up to it, he would line us up and would brutally beat us all with the belt until one of us admitted to it.
My eldest brother grew strong and one day beat him back pretty badly and he stopped with the indiscriminate beatings. Where was my mother during this? - She was great about protecting herself. She would call the police if he raised a hand to her, but she never protected us. Ever.
We moved south, my eldest brother (our protector) joined the marines. Because we were in a more civilized area, my father moved on to more subtle torture.
When i was 13 my father purchased a gigantic state of the art stereo system as a Christmas gift "for the entire family". He played it at ear breaking decibels all night. My mom would smoke weed and put in earplugs and pretend that all was OK. I called the police one day to see if they could pretend a neighbor called to make him stop. They would not.
My father was the king of unidentifiable and passive aggressive torture. He would pee in a perfect ring around the toilet seat so that i would sit in it. If he broke a glass, he would sweep the broken shards in front of my door so that i would step on it. I babysat from the time i was 12 to buy my own clothes (because they would never) and more than once there was bleach poured in my laundry to ruin all of it. Those are but a few of the 'greatest hits'. Stealing a single shoe (that i had worked for)... tearing pages out of my textbooks. All hilarious fodder for my pop.
I tried to move out, a friends mother said i could stay there as long as i wanted to. He called the police and made me come back.
During this time he had held his temper and not raised a hand to me. We had moved to an area where child beating was not just ignored... until the day he didn't. I was 15, a track star and very fit for a young girl. When he swung at me i hit him back. Not just once. I hit him enough for a grown man to be embarrassed by a young girl beating him. I hit him with gusto. With everything he deserved.
We didn't speak for years. I moved out of the house when i was 15 years old. I dropped out of high school and worked my ass off to make ends meet. I made something of myself despite having no support. I was a good kid. I never got in trouble, at all.
There have been many more emotional insults since the time i moved out until now.
I am halfway to 40 now and my dad is finally dying.
I have moved on from my childhood torture and have been wildly successful in my chosen career.
My mother and father now want to be "super grandparents" to my niece and nephew. They completely forgot my 30th birthday, i spent it alone with some tears and a bottle of wine and the internet. Then i get a call about "how dare i forget my niece's recital". Neither one of them ever bothered to attend a single one of my recitals.
Now my dad is getting old to the point of death and wants to reconnect with me. I get a call after every Dr's appointment, as if i should care.
I just don't feel it. I don't really give a shit if either one of them lives or dies. I guess this makes me a bad person. You should love your parents. I wish I could love my parents. For those of you who have good parents, go hug them.
It wont be long now for my dad. He has only 1 artery left to his heart.
I know he thinks he is a good person which is what kills me. And things are not always black and white. Parts of him are the most amazing person. I will miss "my daddy" when he is gone. That special, caring, loving person i caught a glimpse of through the window from time to time.
He cannot even in his weakened state help himself from turning into the monster that he can be. And i just give up. I don't care.