Suspicion


So I was telling the story about when my Dad had had his strokes and how he ended up in the hospital to a friend a few days ago. This was nearly 15 years ago so a lot has happened. A lot has changed. Through the years, I’ve tried to make sense of the whole situation and I’ve tried to understand why the people in my Dad’s life behaved the way they did during that time.

I’m a fair person. I usually take everything at face value. I’m very literal. I believe that what you say is the way it is. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that people aren’t as good as I am. They lie. They cheat. They steal. They will say whatever they can to make you believe what they want you to believe. It took me a long time to see that even your own family, the closest people in your life for the majority of your life, can be those scandalous villains that we know to avoid on the street. Now that I know what my family members are capable of, I looked back over my past, to the one most painful event of my life, my Father’s death, and I saw it all through a new set of eyes.

I feel idiotic to have been fooled by my own mother and sibling now. Had I known what had actually happened with my Dad, things would have been very different. It was her words the day he died that haunted me til she died. She said, as I sobbed in their house that day she found him in bed dead, “someday we will talk about what I did, ok honey?”.  At that moment, I just said “okay”. I felt it in the pit of my stomach that something wasn’t right but I didn’t want to listen to my gut. It hurt too much. I had a feeling what she might say. I knew it was something that was hard for her to admit to me. But what was it exactly? Now, fifteen years go by, she’s now dead too. And she never took the time to talk to me about what she said she’d talk to me about that day. She was too busy spending his money, I guess.

So, when I was telling the story to my friend, it dawned on me what it was that she was wanting to tell me. She was guilty of causing my Father’s death. Of course she couldn’t say it after he was already gone a while. She was enjoying the way of life she had put in so many miserable years with my Dad for now. Why would she confess anything?

The realization of this fact has made me see just how dysfunctional of a parent she was and makes me understand where my sibling gets it from and to not trust him or anyone connected to either of them in any way. It makes me question myself and the issues I have to face everyday and how it’s connected directly to her as a parent. It makes me angry that I have to suffer for her inability to raise me “right” to today’s standards. I feel like a victim and I hate giving her that power. I’ve been trying very hard to turn my life around. I’ve been trying very hard to overcome the SHIT I’ve been dealt because of her influence. It may sound mean, but I wish she could die again. I’d like to have her back just long enough to really tell her how it is and then watch her die all over again. I am so angry. But, I know (because I’ve been reminded through the many hours of therapy) that I shouldn’t carry the anger with me. That I need an outlet for it. I will only let it consume today and every day after if I continue to carry the anger with me. I don’t want that for my life. I’m better than her. I was born better than her. I don’t want to care if she valued me or not. I don’t want to care if she loved me or not. I am angry she took my Dad from me and never had the guts to admit it to him that she didn’t love him and only wanted his money. She should have paid for what she did. She shouldn’t have any honor in death now. In my eyes, she doesn’t.

I feel grateful for the people in my life that take the time to listen to my stories. The only way I will get better is to let it all out. Little by little, it’s all coming to the surface. I can deal with it that way. My Dad always said that he just wanted me to be happy, and that’s my goal. It’s also my goal to prove my mom wrong. Until then, she’s still winning. And I’m no fucking loser. Not to her, no fucking way.

I

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