365 Days

A year ago today I numbly drove to the airport, parked my car, took the shuttle to the terminal. I walked up to the SkyWest ticket counter, showed them my airline ID, received a jumpseat boarding pass, got on a plane, and flew to Houston.

When I landed in Houston I went to the car rental desk, rented a car, and drove to the house my parents live in.

I parked my car, walked up their walkway and rang the bell. No one answered. I walked around the corner and saw that my dad was in his back yard trying to mend a fence. How ironic, I thought.

I walked up and stood about 10 feet away from him. His back was to me. His hair had gone white and he looked much older than the last time I'd seen him. I stood watching him for a solid 3 minutes before I started crying and lost my nerve.

He hadn't noticed me, so I turned and left. Back in my car and needed to blow my nose and wipe my eyes, but had no tissues. I drove to a fast food place and got a stack of napkins. This was going to be hard.

Returning to their house, I went again to the back yard, but he was no longer there. I walked around to the front door, and rang the bell. A moment later the door opened, and my dad stared at me for a very long 15 or 20 seconds before he recognized me. I could see it in his face the moment it happened. Almost whispering my name, he staggered back a bit before catching his balance.

“I thought we should talk” I said.

“Yes. We should talk.”

He opened the screen door and I followed him inside. Sitting down on one end of the L-shaped couch, he sat on the other end. I think he probably offered me something to drink, which I declined. I asked if my mother was home. “She should be here any minute. She’s out shopping. I’ll call her.”

He called her cell phone but she didn’t pick up. He left a message telling her to call home as soon as she got the message, but not why. While he called, I looked around at their house, which I had only been to once, a decade earlier. Every nook and cranny was filled with autumn decorations and nicknacks...pumpkins, turkeys, leaves, figurines. I never realized that my parents were that into tchotchke. They had (outdated) photos of me and my siblings, and their grandkids covering the walls. A portrait of a happy family.

He hung up. And I started to talk. Words tumbled out and I unloaded, without reservation, all the pain, anger, hurt and suffering his actions had caused me. How it was all him, and not me. That I was a small child, and none of it was my fault. And that it doesn't matter if he doesn't remember any more, it still happened.

I wasn't worried about blaming him for things that may not actually be his fault...who can sort that out? I just told him how his abuse has impacted every aspect of my life. How I grew up feeling like a worthless piece of trash, and believing I was the ugliest girl in the world. How my feelings impacted me emotionally, and socially, and how that has influenced every relationship I’ve ever had, and everything I endeavored to do, down to the present time.

I told him of my struggle to fit in with school mates, friends and co-workers. When I started dating, his choices impacted my interactions with men, and eventually got in the way in my marriage. And especially problematic has been my relationship with God…my Heavenly Father.

I said anything that came to mind, without reservation. I had finally stopped worrying about hurting his feelings at my expense. I’d gotten to the point where I had to stop holding my pain inside, pretending he’d done his best, and that I was fine. I didn't believe that I just needed to forgive him without going through the grieving process of an innocent childhood lost. He hadn’t done his best. Being a pedophile isn’t doing your best. Throwing things at, and hitting your kids isn't doing your best. Having volcanic eruptions of anger that come out of nowhere and terrorize your children isn't doing your best. And though he could have done worse than he did, what he did was bad enough.

I’ve always excused his behavior because he finally stopped himself and repented of his sins. He tried to control his temper. But he never obtained any counseling for himself, or his victims. His repentance process did not include confessing his sins to his victims, or his wife (who claims not to know anything). Nor was there any kind of restitution. When I first discussed this with him (almost 20 years ago), he informed me “I know I’ve been forgiven, and now you have to forgive me.”

I believed him when he told me that, and felt bad that I was uncomfortable with him. I have tried all my life to forgive him. Lord knows I’ve tried. And if praying for reprieve from the pain, and praying for peace was all it took to move forward after a history like ours, I’d have been there long ago. It’s all I’ve ever wanted…to feel inner peace, instead of the battle that has raged over who I am all my life. But I didn’t know what to do. My coping method was to stuff the pain deep down, and pretend it wasn’t there, and wait for the heart to change. Because I believed him…that it was only me that had any work to do still. He was my dad, after all.

For years I thought I’d actually gotten there…that I’d forgiven him. Because truly, I don’t hate him. I don’t want him to be unhappy. I do want him to enjoy his life. But I just didn’t want to have to be part of it…and I felt guilty about that. So I MADE myself be part of it. But three years ago something broke inside me; I couldn’t do it any more. I had to cut off contact. This visit was the first time I’d seen or spoken to him in 27 months.

Eventually my tears (which I hadn’t managed any control over for the month preceding this encounter) finally dried up, and I didn’t have anything else to say. My mother had never called back or come home. I’d talked for over three hours, and realized that actually, I didn’t feel up for “Round Two” when she returned. So I told him I had to go.

He said he was sorry about everything and walked me to the door. “I hope we can do this again real soon” he commented. I looked at him, kind of sadly, and walked away.

Blessings:
1) Courage and support
2) A year of real progress
3) Hope for the future