Today was the last day of summer. Grey clouds and cool temperatures marked the day of my Father’s funeral.
I had a beautiful day today. I saw family that I had not seen in years. I was greeted and hugged by friends who came to show their love for me- all of them protectively close and guarding my heart. And the young people still hopeful and shy and loving. It was a day of love.
I was not happy that my Father had died, I was happy because I was free. He could never disapoint or hurt me again.
There would never be another Father’s Day where I fought with myself as to whether I should call him.
The ugly truth of his abusive sexual relationship with me that hung between us like rotting meat was buried with him today.The facade and pretense lurking in anything that was about fathers and daughters would no longer be played. There would never be a touch between us, no matter how beguine, where I would recoil in some fashion.
There would be no longer family members who knew about my abuse, their eyes always watching to see if they could detect that unnameable something. Did he really do it? Did I makeup the entire tale, in a morbid plea for attention?
No longer will the men in my life- my husbands- all three of them feel uncomfortable, but never confronting my Father. Each of them wishing they could throttle him for damaging what they believed to be a beautiful work of God.
Tonight I no longer fear that his lustful eye might fall upon a child of either gender.
Tonight, I shall sleep the sleep of a woman now free of a man, a father that did not know how to love anyone- not even himself.
Tonight I know that I was innocent in my love. What happened was not my fault not my doing. I am free of shame and proud to have fought, struggled, clawed my way to where I am and who I am today. My past has faded at last to black, the curtain falling on the last day of summer. I awake tomorrow into fall with a summer as rich and sharp and tart as black berry wine.
The Addict Writes