Do I forgive or do I forget?

this is another chapter I had written. It was one of the more difficult pieces I have ever written because it is about father and my very few shadows in my life about him. It's struggle I've for a long time. Do I forgive or do I forget him

Daddy Issues: 

We have an unspoken rule in my family. We don’t talk about the past.  At all. I think it was to prove that if we did not acknowledge the pain of the past, that it would lose it power over us. Worried that we would turn into an unavoidable pillar of salt, the past must remain behind us. I held this to be true, truer than the air I breathed or the ground beneath my feet.  However as I aged it became more like a poisonous spell that runs through my veins only to be remembered in waking nightmares. Sipping my morning coffee I realized that it will always be in the shadows. 

But hiding it and pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t suit my personality. I do well enough facing up to the demonic shadows of others and I can certainly face up to my.  One of those demons would my father. Well, biologically at least. I had nightmares about him that I thought were a part of my imagination but were just old memories.  He was your classic narcissistic low life. 

Which he had been for as long as anyone could remember. For the record, I didn’t get this information from my mother who everyone could assume to be a villain. No. I was an intelligent child and even then detective work came naturally to me. Even as the internet became more available I became better at pounding the pavement. 

I didn’t like what I found but then again the truth is an ugly monster. My mother refused my questions and I went looking for my own. I’m not the brightest bulb in the world but everyone leaves a paper trail one way or another. I had asked for nothing from him up until my 18^th birthday. 

I asked for something very simple, very small. My ticket to a new world of opportunity, my ticket to an American university circa 2003. A birth certificate. I would have paid for the 5 cent photocopy at Shopper’s Drug Mart But his anger, self loathing of that pillar of salt that had become couldn’t allow him to be the man he should have been.

As I grow older and I began to remember more, his crimes became more horrific.  The people surrounding me became more real. I am human, this I knew better than anything. I will continue to be human and my thoughts become the best of me. 

I’m bitter this was the same mother fucker who had feed me to the dogs on several occasions for a drug fix. Or my mother for that matter. If I had a nickel for every horrible thing that had ever happened to me I would be one rich son of a bitch but since I didn’t I just carried the raw baggage. For years, I would have killed to have the chance to be a happy go lucky kid who grew up in lap of luxury as Wonda supposed she did. But then again one had to wonder if she did but she claimed her “brash behavior” was due to her surviving her recent tragedies and her time in various hospitals.

 Sometimes one had to wonder but since she was my boss it was none of my business to question her about her experiences in life. I hated being grilled or drilled for information about my inner personal thoughts or feelings. Wonda once said that I had reminded her of Lisbeth from “the girl with the dragon tattoo.”

 Like Lisbeth, silence was my weapon and knowledge was my power. Wonda made me feel as if I was a princess and not in a good way in the way. She said in a manner that someone would use to demean my life and experiences.  If I was a princess than it was a princess without a Prince. I wish I could pretend that my father wasn’t my father but after I looked at one picture of him, I knew.

 Fucking knew it. There is always some sort of knowledge that a child in my circumstances harbors that maybe their mother cheated and their supposed father was not the one who like to beat women or get arrested.  I still knew in my heart that this man couldn’t be my father but yet it was reality.

What a joke. I should have been a bit smarter. I remember the one day I needed him more than anyone else. I was told that if I had his birth certificate, I could go to school in the United States without a visa and I could have that future I always wanted. My golden ticket.

 To accomplish this deed, I needed my mother to do one very large act of courage.  I needed her to call ‘Robert’ and ask him for a copy of his birth certificate.  She was reluctant at first but I begged her to please please, just to do this one thing for me. 

{This was the song I was listening to as her and my father conversed  }

Finally she did. I quietly waited in living room that was attached to the kitchen as my mother made that dreadful call. I overheard everything. He called her a bitch (same old daddy dearest). He claimed that SHE had been the one to destroy his life, like he hadn’t done anything on his own.  He couldn’t see beyond his own hatred or his own ego.  I listened with a cold detachment. Somehow in the depth of my soul, it felt expected.

I recalled in the back of my mind what good old daddy dearest had done to get himself kicked out of my life. He did one thing no “daddy” should do. Years later I remembered what happened after had done it to me the first time. I went to the coach and watched HELLRASIER and somehow in the memory of that blood ridden film. I told myself to not forget. Remember this movie and never forget what happened. Use it to show you the way and years later it did but that’s a story for another blog.

I had to know why I remembered the film.  When had I watched it, why? And before long I wished I hadn’t followed that yellow brick road. 

“Please Robert, This is for our daughter.”

Well that caught my attention. I listened a little bit closer. The things I had picked up were “Bitch and cunt.” Yeah, like I would forgive you for that one butt wipe. Then she asked about the pictures. Interesting fact about me, I don’t have any baby pictures.   

Rumor is that Robert in a fit of rage burned every photo of me that existed. My newborn pictures and all the ones up to my 4^th birthday all whispered away with kiss of fire. There is only one picture left in existence that is of the originals and that one is the one and only of that 4^th birthday party. It was tiny and the corners were worn from multiple. This cellioud frame was the only proof that I had ever been young. 

 I had the weirdest look across my face and a messy on at that. Looking at my face now I could never believe that it was my own. I have doubts about that too. I figured I was so easily lied to about everything else why not this as well? 

“Are you sure?” My mother asked innocently. “Is there any way you could please just check for them?”

“You took everything!” I heard him shout from the line.

“The birth certificate? You have to have one of those, right?” 

“If I couldn’t get in, “An enraged voice echoed. “She won’t be able to get in.” 

I felt my lips twitch inward. “Please,” I mom begged. This is something that I am not used to hearing from the iron bar that is my mother. “Good-bye Robert” She said to him in swirl of his anger. I was proud of her in this moment. At least she tried; many mothers wouldn’t have the balls to do so. “I don’t know what I am going to tell Eden, Christine.” Then it came to my knowledge that my mother was not alone. I took one big breathe and decided to step in the kitchen. MY mother and Christine both paled. They weren’t able to see me coming and definitely weren’t ready. My mother opened up her mouth to say something but I raised my hand to stop her from speaking. 

“It’s not worth it.” I said strongly. “He’s not worth it.”

“But The school….” She trailed off. 

“What about it?” I kept my face from twitching with the rage I felt inside. “I can take of myself.”

My mother’s eyes welled up with tears and I handed her an abandoned cup of tea. “I’ll make it without him. Never needed him before did we?” She shook her head to the side.

“I guess we didn’t.” She sipped her tea. “What did you hear?”

“More than enough. He blew his last chance to have a relationship with me.” I left my mother with her friend and went to find my solace in music and a book. I couldn’t cry because it wasn’t in me anymore. Only the emptiness of rage and anger. I thought about all the times he left my mother in a crumbled heap at the bottom of the stairs. I would tread carefully as any child stepping down the stairs. And moved the blood soaked hair out of her face. He got her in the nose this time. I took a closer look and her nose looked okay aside from the blood dripping out of it.

She made some bad choices sometimes but it was never an excuse to hit a lady. Or woman. He over powered her but not by much. She was so tiny even when I was that age. She had long anime like legs and golden blond hair with tanned skin. I was the opposite.