I was so free today. There I was, in the parking lot in front of wal-mart. I sat there alone in my car. I was waiting for two of my friends to get some things they needed from the Dollar Store. I sat there, smiling to myself, feeling like I had the entire world at my disposal, like I could do anything. I turned up the volume of the radio and danced as much as I could in a sitting position. I let loose for the first time after what seemed like forever. How did life become so easy all of a sudden, when only a month ago I was a complete mess?
What happened a month ago? What happened to me my entire life before that moment? How can I sum up my suffering in just a few words? How could I explain to you in detail everything that has happened so far, without you turning away from my sob story? I suppose I don't have to tell you every little detail.
In a nutshell, you can say my father is at the heart of my worries. He is analogous to a swordsman, twirling in circles, sword in hand, blindly thrashing at anything and anyone (that would be me), in his path. He is unaware of the damage he inflicts upon others. All he is concerned about is the migraine in his head from all the spinning. He can't see, hear or think through the pain in his head. Still all he does is magnify the anguish for himself. Never will he stop to take a breath, not for anyone else, not even for himself. He has turned into a hurtful machine. A weapon of destruction, harming all that comes in his way. Does he want to hurt people? Do he do it intentionally? What really is the matter with this human being who I once was proud to call my father? The absolute truth, not even I know for sure. However, from what I have observed, he is the kind of person who always wants to get what he wants. Although, he might not always get what he wants. Some things he wants with a passion incomparable to anyone else. Whilst other things are just not that important to him and no tears are shed on their loss.
So the whole deal is, my mother, brother, sister and I, we are essentially people he does not want in his life. He might have wanted us around once upon a time but that clearly isn't the case at the present moment. The feeling is mutual. How on earth did it all come to this? Why would a father turn his back on his family?
Truth be told, we weren't always the most functional family. He was the dictator, the man with a vision to change the world somehow. He was the person in the family with the ideas, the philosophy preacher, the music lover, the workaholic, the benevolent friend and father, the Dad my friends would wish they had because he never imposed curfews on us or pushed us to study too hard. He was the cool dad.
Still, there was always something that didn't feel quite right. It is easy to be admired or adored by people who don't know you so well. A mask of kindness and coolness is all it takes to get the audience to cheer. Yet who stays behind, after the curtains are closed and the show is over? Who does the make up, designs the clothes, prepares the food and does the manicure for this hypothetical celebrity?
You see, only the immediate members of a family truly know what goes on at home. The four of us were the only ones who saw the darkness in him firsthand. Did we talk about it in public? Of course not. Why? Because family is meant to tolerate, forgive and understand. So we watched, day in and day out, we tolerated and bared the animosity. We drank in all the hurtful words and even at times, hurtful actions. Our lips were sealed. Yet that never healed anything. Things only continued to get worse. One day after the other, we drifted apart until the day came that we simply couldn’t recognize him anymore. There was nothing in him even remotely close to what he once was. He was having an affair. For years he got away with it unnoticed. Though somehow, his ways were exposed to us.
Now, right this moment, we are far away from him, emotionally, as
well as physically. We decided enough was enough and the time for a separation was
ripe.
Despite everything that has happened, I am not saddened by it. The
past is not a ghost that haunts me. It is not a nightmare I wake up from,
screaming every night. The past is staircase. Every step was worth taking because
it brought me to the elevated step I am at today. My pain was transformed into
the virtue of patience. The single most important thing however, to have sprung
from my past is my deep connection with God. Now as I see the staircase in my
mind, I picture an angel holding my hand every step of the way. I realize the
tears I shed were not in vain.
No hardship ever comes in our lives without the purpose to teach
us something.
Oh, how much I have learned and so much more there is still left
to learn.
