Rant

So- another post with no pictures of sweet M. Sorry. I'm here to tell you about my father. My father is someone who no longer exists on this earth. I grew up in a family where my mother was in love with the idea of what my father could have been. Alcohol took the good parts of my father and slowly drowned them throughout my life. Now, I feel, there is but a shadow of who and what he used to be.
I do remember a man, though barely, who would make us a platter on Sunday nights and we would all watch movies together. Someone who would grill us hamburgers and steaks and make chili on cold winter days. He was someone who would always give in if bothered enough by us. I remember "helping" him chop wood when we lived on a farm and I was prekindergarten age. I remember the songs he would sing me before bed when I was really little. I remember fishing with him at the lake, riding on the pontoon and swimming in the pool playing jaws. I remember helping him clean the pool when I was older. But isn't it sad that I don't remember very much else that's actually good? I also remember a man who was asleep in his chair every night by 8 or 9. A man who struggled with his weight to no end. Someone who "hurt" his back several times and couldn't function. Someone who always had something better to do than come see me or my sister preform in various activities. Someone who, in later years, I watched get sloppier, lazier, and sleepier- and his face grow redder and redder. For those of you who don't understand alcoholism, this was what it did to my father. These are the reasons that growing up most of my friends thought my parents were divorced. I never spoke of my dad- not because I was trying to hide something, but because he basically had no involvement in my life. My mother provided us with what we needed and wanted to do and he benefited from the life she created. Sure- he always worked and provided his income (which changed in later years) but that's pretty much where it ended.
My mom was always so good at hiding it from us. I don't really recall knowing that he was an alcoholic until I was in middle school and he was arrested (for the first time I was aware of). We never had alcohol in our house. My father was never abusive or loud- at least not to us. We did later find out that my mother suffered years of verbal and emotional abuse. Yet she stayed with him for 30 years- why? Because she was in love with the man under the alcohol- and here's where it's sad. My dad is smart, he's charming, he's fun to be around, he has a great heart and he loves children. Those things are nearly impossible to see. My father shaped my mother into someone who was constantly worried that she just wasn't good enough to make him happy. How sad for an incredibly smart and successful woman.
My mother did finally divorce my father after alcohol had completely destroyed him- he was no longer working or really doing anything except lying in bed in a drunken state. After two rounds of in patient treatment and a man who states, "I don't really WANT to stop drinking" where do you find the hope? He had spent their entire retirement and destroyed their lives.
So you ask- why are we discussing this now? Well- my father has married the biggest symptom of his disease. His girlfriend from AA- yes that's alcoholics anonymous. She's a perfectly nice woman whom mostly I feel sorry for, so really the feelings I have of wishing to completely cut off my relationship with him have nothing at all to do with her. It has to do with this as being the final proof that the man who was once my father is now completely gone- I can find absolutely no glimmer of the person he once was. So if you never hear me mention my dad- it's because he just isn't there any more. I really have no desire to ever see, talk to, or be around the man that he has become. That's not my dad. My father works at walmart and lives in a two bedroom apartment with a woman he married from AA. Sounds like a soap opera. For me to spend time with THIS person makes it ever so much harder for me to remember the man I can "almost" fondly think of as my dad. It would really be easier for me if he were actually gone. The saddest part of all? I was a daddy's girl.
I guess some of this is in the hopes that my husband will read it. He will never understand the feelings I have about this situation. He chastises me for not calling him back or wanting to see him. The problem is, he grew up in a household where his mother and father had extreme and mutual respect and love for one another. His father was always involved in their lives and still is very much. So I guess if you've never experienced dysfunction, you might not recognize it when you see it. I wish that he could understand, but I also feel very blessed that he can't. I feel very secure that my life will not turn out like my mother's- if I can do my best to not screw it up myself (not that your life is bad, mom, just not how you intended it to be). So that's my story. I guess....sorry for the length.