As far as I can remember, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my Dad.
My first memory of my father is actually my Mom telling my brother and I to be quiet cause we were sneaking out. That night my Mom packed us up and left my Father while he was sleeping. My Grandfather (Father’s Dad) drove an hour to come pick us up. We went to go live with our Grandparents (Father’s parents) and leave the man who was physically abusing my Mom.
Later, my Mom would tell me that she didn’t go to her family because on her wedding day three years earlier her Mother told her that “I hope he beats the shit out of you”. Her Mother was not happy about the marriage. How do you go back to your Mom with an ” I told you so waiting”.
I remember my Dad came over to his parents house while my Mom was away and made us breakfast. It stuck with me as a 4 yrs old cause I had never seen my father cook anything before.
My Mom lived separate from my Father for about 2 yrs. I remember a few bits of that fondly.
At some point my Mom decided we would be moving to FL with my Father. She says she thought we could have a better life. My Dad promised her he would never hit her again.
After renting at a small house for a year, my parents bought a home in Miami. It was a small 2 bd/2 ba home, but mostly I remember good memories there. My brother and I made new friends went to Catholic school (I’ll leave experience for a different blog 🙂 ). This was 1980. I was 6 yrs old when we moved in and 10 yrs old when we moved to a different area. At this age, I remember a lot more. A lot of the good was with my Mom and brother. My Mom worked a lot in an accounting firm as an Office Manager and my brother was only 2 yrs younger so we had a lot of fun together.
As far as my Dad, for the most part, I remember my parent arguing a lot. I remember my Dad often being very grumpy and being afraid of him. I don’t remember much else about him until one summer day that has been scarred in to my memory that I’ll never forget.
I don’t remember exactly how old I was (7-9?), but I remember that my parents considered me old enough for my brother and I just to stay home during the summer and not go to camp anymore. We were kids and we get bored, so I had the bright idea to setup the tent in our house and have a “camp out”. We had a great time, but I guess we made a big mess. My Dad was a salesperson business cleaning chemicals and so his schedule was flexible. Unfortunately that meant he often came home early. He came home very early that day and saw the house was a mess and he lost it.
He unscrewed the metal handle from one of those old metal floor sweepers and beat us both with it. I tried to take more of it since I was the older kid and it was my fault. I may not remember more details of that day, but I remember the feeling of fear and hate. It seems he forgot about this shortly after it happened, but that was the day my relationship with my Dad was ruined forever.
I don’t remember if I told my Mom, but we continued to live with him.
He never beat us that bad ever again, but from then on his abuse was more verbal and emotional.
I remember that because my Dad was such a grump, we would go on vacation without him. My Mom, brother and I would go to Naples for 2 weeks and it was such a nice relaxing vacation. I remember that one or two years of that vacation my Dad would show up at the end for a few days and this was the first time I realized he had a fascination with guns. He would bring a gun and have us (I was 7-10 and my brother was 5-8) watch him shoot his gun in the middle of the woods. The memory I have about this is fear, sadness, and boredom. Our nice vacation had come to an end.
Note: As I write this, I realize that my Mom should have been more scared of an abusive man with a gun. We are actually lucky to have all made it out alive. All emotionally scarred, but alive.
Another trip we would often take was Disney. We lived in FL and I loved Disney. Still do. Like a lot of families, we would drive up from South Florida and only spend a day or two there. I remember just being in awe of Disney. I still love it because of that first feeling of happiness and awe during my first visit at 4yrs old. For the most part, I had a good time during our Disney visits. My Dad drove us and it seemed he tried to ruin our trip but the Disney happiness always seeped through. For some reason, he didn’t participate with us. He just sat somewhere and we were supposed to meet him there at a certain time to leave.
I don’t remember my Dad (or my Mom) at Magic Kingdom. It was all about the rides. For EPCOT, my parents argued so much. Usually one of two things happened – as we are making our way around the countries at EPCOT, my Dad gets so fed up and we needed to leave immediately. This usually happened about mid way – Italy or Japan. For some reason, we always started with Mexico so I never go to see the other countries (UK, Canada, France, Morocco) until I was an adult. The other thing that would happen is that my brother, ugh my brother would disappear. It was his gift to us all in many places. He could have used a kid leash (not available in the 80s).
One time my paternal Grandmother had come with us. She was a great Grandmother, but as far I understand it, she is the reason my Dad is such a horrible person.
Anyway, we were checking out the Imagination area and we turned around and my brother was gone. We search for him everywhere. Finally we made out way back to where my Dad was sitting and waiting for our trip to end. My brother had, luckily for him, made his way to my Dad. Of course, my Dad lost it and cursed every word he could think of to my Mom and his Mom. Our trip was over. I also remember my Grandmother saying that she would never stay with us again. She kept this promise. Lucky for me, my Aunt also lived in South Florida.
When my Grandmother went back to Jamaica, she called my Mom and said there was a bullet in her suitcase. Apparently, if customs were to check her luggage she would have been arrested no questions asked because guns are illegal in Jamaica.
The next big memory I had from this age era is that he had an issue with my Mom’s family. I remember that my cousin (Mom’s nephew) came to visit and we were all playing in the backyard. My Dad was showing off a bb gun and “accidentally” shot my cousin in the back. My cousin was hurt, but not badly enough to go to the hospital. It’s interesting that I don’t remember much about how we treated my cousin’s injuries, but what I remember distinctly was my Dad laughing.
Our next big move was to a nicer suburb in the west Ft. Lauderdale area. It was a nice house in a nice area with great schools. I asked my Mom if I could go to public school and she agreed. It was awesome. Again a different story :-).
At this place, I was 11 yrs old to 18 yrs old. My brother was 9-16 yrs old. This was 1986-1992.
I have lots of memories here. Mostly good. Some bad due to my Dad or my race. We lived in a neighborhood where we were the only brown family. That was sometimes interesting.
All my memories of my Dad were not bad. I am a techie person. I love electronic gadgets and cars. I got that from my Dad. He loved new technologies and he would share this love with me and we discussed TVs, cameras, etc. Sony was his favorite technology brand. My Dad and I also bonded with cars. He would buy a new car and we would sit in the car on the 1st day and try all the cool stuff in the car. This stuck with me, even today, and I have taken it further into software, cool technology in cars. I work in software and always am an early adopter.
The first memory I have at our home in Ft. Lauderdale is my Dad shooting my rabbits right in front of me. I was 11 yrs old. One rabbit got sick and had a sore on it’s head. My Mom and I took the rabbit to the vet and the vet said the rabbit was sick and the best thing to do was to put it down. My Mom paid the vet to do that. The vet mentioned that the other rabbits may be sick too. My Dad was furious and got his gun and shot the other two rabbits right in front of me. I can understand that if the rabbits were sick and he didn’t want to pay the vet bill, then put them out of their misery, but not in front of the children. I didn’t know how traumatized I was until I went to Vegas as an adult with friends. They wanted to go to a shooting range and being a trooper, I joined along. Once the shooting started, I had immediate flashbacks to that moment when my rabbits where shot. I had to get out of the building and wait in the car.
With me, the rest of the relationship was mostly just a crotchety old man complaining about anything and everything. However, I had to take on a new role which was defending my Mom and brother from my Dad’s verbal abuse. Especially my brother.
Some examples of a crotchety parent sharing his unhappiness with his child. I loved practicing the piano and still do. I received minimal lessons so most of what I can play I taught myself. However, I often heard “Stop playing the piano or I will have to kill myself.”
When I turned 16, I bought my own car, a 1982 Honda Civic. After I year, my parents and I discussed me buying a new 1990 Honda Civic. They would co-sign and I would make the monthly payments. I used my savings to make a small down payment knowing that when I sold my 1982 Honda Civic, I’d get money back. My Dad accepted the payment from the purchase and then refused to return the money to me. I harassed him and then one day he threw the money at me.
My Dad got after my brother for being out in the sun too much and looking too dark. He called him the N-word. He kept telling him he would end up in jail if he misbehaved. He would try to have these sit downs with my brother and tell him all the ways he was a f-up and I would need to intervene and defend him.
One of my biggest fears is that I would grow up to be an abuser like him. In high school, my brother and I got into a terrible fight. I was so angry that I started to choke him. I stopped, but that scared me. I vowed to never have kids. I didn’t want to risk it. As an adult, I realized that I am not my father and I did want kids. As a parent, I have learned what not to do and that has worked well.
I got my first job in middle school at 12 yrs old and then worked a good amount of hours working after school when I was 14-18 yrs old. I paid for my own stuff, got good grades, volunteered at a local hospital. I tested well on the SATs and applied to schools where I wouldn’t live at home. I applied to every scholarship I could think of. I got accepted into every school I applied to. I earned my spot. This wasn’t an acceptance because I’m a minority student. I was so proud of myself and told my Dad I got accepted to University of Florida with a scholarship and I also received a scholarship from the hospital I volunteered at. His response was “You only got in because you are black. You should be more grateful to me as you’d be a prostitute in Jamaica if it weren’t for me.”
This is a man who never once helped me in school, helped with any applications, never asked what I got on my SATs. He just said the thing that would hurt the most. I don’t think he actually believes what he said. He was and still is just an asshole.
When I left home to go to University of Florida, I enjoyed my freedom. I forgot about the troubles at home and I still feel guilty for that. I later learned that my Dad continued to be verbally abusive and my brother got into trouble. He hung with the wrong crowd of kids. I wasn’t there to guide him anymore or play defense against my Dad. One day, my Dad got tired of my brother getting into trouble and he sat him down and put a gun to his head and said “I should put you out of your misery now rather than have you live in jail.”
I love my Mom. She went through a lot and she was overall a good mother, but I still wonder today why she didn’t leave at this point. What would it take? She says she went back to my Dad in 1980 to get a better life for her kids, but at what emotional cost.
In 1993, I came home for a visit and my Dad’s car was parked behind mine so I borrowed his car to go out with my friends. I don’t remember why I did it, but I looked in the glove compartment and found a few pictures of a woman in lingerie. I wasn’t upset, I was happy. The next day, I told my Mom that it was time to get a divorce. He had someone else so he shouldn’t harass you. My Mom filed for divorce and I worked to get my brother got out of the house. I worked hard and I helped my brother get into a college too so I could keep an eye on him. In 1994, my Mom filed for divorce.
Even though my Dad had a girlfriend, he went to her office to “talk” about getting back together. When she refused, he called her a bitch and a whore – in her office! My Mom tells me she got off easy. If he didn’t have someone else to go to, she would have been more scared for her life.
One day after the divorce was finalized my Dad called me to complained that he had driven all the way to Gainesville and I didn’t make time for him. I told him that I could not because of the way he treated my Mom and my brother. He said “you are a bitch like your Mother.” I hung up on him and didn’t speak to him for 7 yrs.
I heard about my Dad from family members. I’d hear statements telling me that my Dad was in the hospital and he says “she can call me, but I don’t want any attitude”. I didn’t call him.
I found that hating him so much was stressing out my subconscious. I dreamt about him. I fought him in my dreams. Sometimes choking him, sometimes hitting him. I’d wake up angry and restless. It happened enough that I finally realized that I had to move past this and forgive him even if I could not forget.
Seven years after I hung up on him. I decided to call him. He was surprised to hear from me. He probably thought I wanted money. I didn’t. By that point, I graduated from UF and I had a dream job for a tech company and I had already moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. I asked him how he was doing and told him I was doing well and move to California. My dreams stopped.
I did hear from family that his statement about my call was “someone finally knocked some sense into her”. Whatever.
I visited my Dad once while he still lived in FL. He had married the lady in the picture. While I felt sorry for her having to live with a man like that, I also could not like a woman that slept with a married man. During the visit, I noticed he had a dog. The dog’s name was Gaucho. I understand that Argentinian for Cowboy. The dog has bald spots in his fur. It seemed my Dad would taser the dog to “train” him to sit and stay only on the rug. I called the Humane Society and reported it anonymously, but his wife denied it. I am just so happy and thankful that the lady he married was older and not able to have kids.
Over the years, I tried many times to speak with my Dad about what kind of a parent he was. He only says that he doesn’t remember any of that. He says that my Mom put thoughts into my head. When I mentioned that he put a gun to my brother’s head, he only said “I don’t remember that, but I should have hit him over the head with a gun and knocked some sense into him.” Then he laughed.
My Dad moved to South Carolina in the early 2000s. While I occasionally spoke to him for many years, he has never met his granddaughter. I continue to have my issues with Dad and I have decided that my life is better without him in it, but I am no longer angry. I do have emotional baggage from what I went through but overall I think I had a good life growing up. I’m not sure my brother would say the same.
My childhood has made me who I am. There are good and bad things that I got from it.
Good – I am a techie and work for an awesome tech company. I stayed the protector of my Mom and brother and did everything in my power to make sure he was successful. He is today. I am so happy for him and proud of myself for helping him get there. I was tough. I got a lot of lessons of what not to do as a parent. I am very good at telling when someone is BS’ing me. My Dad was a BS’er.
Bad – I am terrible at picking men. I am unhappy in my marriage and I don’t want to make the same mistakes my Mom did. A song or topic just needs to mention domestic abuse and I get teary. I am ashamed of what I went through so I have never shared my whole story before. I write this blog to share my story to strangers because I cannot share anywhere else.
I may have grown up to live with another crotchety old man, but the other things in my life are good. I have a good job that I love. I have a beautiful daughter who is my heart and soul and I have good friends. I am happy that I forgave my Dad. I don’t want to live life angry. I can now focus on clearing my other obstacles….
Wishing For A Holiday 