My Father...the hero?

 

One of my earliest memories is crying in my cot, I don't know how old I was, possibly 2 or 3. I don't remember why I was crying, Maybe I'd shit myself, maybe I'd just wanted a hug. Either way I was crying. I then recall my dad coming into my bedroom, Finally I'll get what I want. Except he came in with an angry face, Next thing I know he was yelling and then hit me and left. 

That pretty much sums up the relationship with my dad. The two photos show me smiling at the camera when I was a young kid, but they don't show that I was afraid of my dad, my confidence and self esteem was non existent and I wanted to die. My father...the hero.

My Mum and Dad married on Christmas Eve 1981, I was born in September 1982. My dad never hid the fact that I was unwanted, that I was an embarrassment to him. He hated me, whenever he could he'd humiliate me, hit me, punish me for stuff I'd never even done. Oh there's no doubting he worked hard to put food on the table, he worked every hour god sent while on the Railway and he'd come back exhausted, as a kid I never really appreciated that and I get that now, but neither did my brother and sister and they were rarely punished as severely as I was.

He also liked a drink, I dreaded him coming back from the Pub late at night, wondering what he'd say to me this time, One year it was my brother's birthday, He wanted to go to Crich Tram museum in Derbyshire, and at the time my Mum only had a small car, I wanted to go as well, but there was Mum driving, my dad, my brother and sister and my brother's best mate, so there was no room for me. I missed out. Something that hurt as I really wanted to go. A few days later my dad came back from the pub, and hit me several times and called me a waste of space and that the world would be better off without me, My crime?....not going to the Tramway museum despite there being no room. 

To this day I struggle with how to accept gifts, and that stems from my dad, if I showed too much emotion I'd get hit and yelled at, if I didn't show enough...yep, hit and yelled at. It was always done out of sight of my Mum and family, No one knew. If I said anything he just denied it. He did it in a way that left no bruises either. Bastard. So when my wife or someone gives me a gift...I struggle with how to react, and that sometimes hurts others if they think I'm being sarcastic or not bothered. 

There were times we tried to repair our relationship, and it wasn't all bad. I get my love of the Railways and travelling from him. But that's about it, he moved out when I was 30. He was having an affair with someone twenty years younger than him, while my Mum was battling cancer and we all looked after her, he was off living in a bedsit. 

I have Depression and anxiety, there have been many times I've thought about ending my life. Not all of that comes from him, but most of it does. He destroyed me and it took years to accept that what he did was abuse, I just thought it was normal. My Uncle, my dad's brother is the polar opposite, a good man who has looked after us and I love spending time with him. 

It turned out that my Mum did know what my Dad did, she hid it from my brother and sister but she'd fight my corner because I wasn't strong enough, but because she hid it, my brother has turned out just like my dad and he's no longer part of my life. 

My wife has saved me in so many ways, she has helped me rebuild my confidence, I now love who I am, a few years ago my dad reached out to us, he'd had a mini stroke. I decided I was going to give him another chance,a final chance. Against my better judgement, him and my Uncle who was an intermediary met in a public place with me and my brother. He didn't give a toss about me, I told him I was married and he never even asked my wife's name. But my brother? Oh he couldn't get enough of what my brother was doing with his life.

A few weeks later we'd arranged another visit, same place, same people. My brother couldn't make it due to work, so I was prepared to go alone, get stuff off my chest. My dad cancelled because my brother couldn't make it. For the last time he'd destroyed me. If he couldn't be arsed to meet with his oldest then I had no time for him, I made the what at first seemed difficult decision to give up on him, to move on with my life, and I have. I've got a great home, a fantastic wife, a close knit circle of friends and while I'm on antidepressants and my Anxiety is still there, it's not as bad as it was. 

I no longer hate my dad, It took almost forty years but I don't hate him anymore, I feel nothing for him. He's no longer in my head, when he dies I won't go to his funeral, I'll just go and get completely pissed instead, it's what he would have wanted.

My father...the hero? No, A Monster. But I'm better off without him.