I have to remember that the good Lord throws things at me just like he throws things at EVERYONE ELSE in the world, too. Still--it does seem there are people on this earth whose biggest problems are what color shirt to wear in the morning, or whether to order the chocolate or the vanilla shake. I am choosing to be grateful when the Lord picks on me. It's obvious he is confident I can handle anything. But just when things are almost settling down (custody battle technically over, S working, the close of hurricane season, etc.), KAPLOW! here comes another li'l hand grenade. That's life!
I got an email today from Laszlo, my notorious paterfamilias. It consisted of a 5-page attachment and was also copied to my mother and brother. It was a pouring out of his heart, which leads me to wonder if he indeed has one after all. Not that I'm surprised by anything in it, because frankly, he can do absolutely nothing that surprises me anymore, but it's just more, as we say in Spanish, pedo. He has reconnected with some people in his life from years ago and it's possible that one of them might actually technically be my step-brother. Possible DNA tests and an appearance on the "Maury Povich" show loom on the horizon. I vaguely recall some of his other-women-and-children drama from my childhood but have wisely chosen to put no percentage into any of it. Well, now Laszlo is approaching his 60th year and has decided to apologize (again) to me, my mother and brother for his shortcomings as a father and a husband. He's decided to unburden himself onto us and is attempting to entwine us with his latest attempt at self-discovery or whatever this is.
It was a funny letter; my dad has a great way with words and a great--even brilliant--mind and a wonderfully rich sense of humor. But I was tempted to write my own 5-page letter back to him. While we are unburdening our souls maybe I deserve to have a turn of my own. I particularly would like to thank him for teaching me, at a very young age, how to recognize narcissists and sociopaths. I'd like to thank him for making me want to always "Just Say No!" to drugs more than Nancy Reagan, 100 After School Specials, and all of Charles Bukowski's works put together, just by watching him and the way he lives his life. I'd like to ask him to prove all this latest bullshit that is coming out of his mouth by taking the time to get to know me, I mean really getting to know me, S and the baby.
But there would be no point. I wrote him a heartfelt letter when I was around 10 years old, begging him to stop drinking and doing drugs and it didn't affect him at all. I have been burned too many times by this man. I mean, what does it say (about him) that in his letter he writes, "I love you all with all of my heart, soul and being…Your Father" and I, his daughter, feel absolutely no emotion, reading that. Because I don't believe it!
And sometimes I think about what I will feel when he is gone for good (though, people like him who have no real responsibilities tend to live long lives!). And mostly I just think, "What a waste", meaning, what a waste that I didn't get to know him better. But that wouldn't be my fault. He's got the disease of drug addiction and alcoholism and not much else matters to him. But my attitude about this is, "Oh well!" Because that's what my attitude has to be.
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2 comments:
Good for you for being unapologetically frank and objective about your feelings. If there's one thing I can't stand it's how some people I roll with "make up" all these romanticised storybook emotions about people who've never done anything to earn it, just "because they're family". I reckon on Judgement Day nobody's gonna care what or whose DNA runs through your blood, so why ON EARTH should we pretend it's necessary to do so down here??
I wish I could give you a big old hug right this minute! I'm fighting my own dad battle at the moment. You are strong Adela! Very strong. I look up to ya.
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