(no subject)
It's raining off and on today.
My father cried when I left his home.
He hugged me more than he has in my whole life, told me he loves me, told me his life is winding down but mine's just starting. He told me "You know I never hated you. I don't know if you ever knew that." Which caused me to cry because honestly no, I never did. He asked me if I thought I'd be coming back up to New York at some point. I said of course, I have friends here and I'll visit when I can. He said "You'll come to New York, but you won't come here." And I assured him I would visit the house and him, although previously I had no intention of doing so. He asked if he came down to Florida if he could stay with me. I said sure, as long as you can handle my dog. It's very abnormal for him to ask questions such as these, to seek reassurance and approval. He's never done such a thing in my presence. It seemed almost as though he were suddenly a little boy, lonely and pathetic. He stood before me and said "You're alright." in an incredilous voice, forcing me to realize for the first time that he knew subconsciously the trouble I was in and didn't really believe I would make it out alive. It took me over an hour to bid him and my sister farewell. I feel bad for him. He's watching his family leave him, hardly looking back to see if he's alright. And yet you ask for certain things in life, not by words but with your actions. It's only now my father realizes that abusing your family will cause them to leave. It's only now my father sees that when wondering why your wife and children dislike you, sometimes your mind can go back to when you neglected and terrorized them. I think in those moments before I took my leave of him he understood clearly that it isn't my mother's fault. I saw the understanding in his eyes. He didn't say it, but his tears spoke for themselves. I think in that moment he realized what a dick he's been to us our whole lives. I think he felt bad about it, think he wished he'd done things differently so this ending wouldn't have come about. Unfortunately, it's too late to re-raise his children. It's too late to save his marriage. It's too late to be a father to two little girls who grew up scared in their own home. But these girls are adults now, and perhaps now he will begin to amend his past with his actions in the present. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He is, afterall, my father.
My kitten is sleeping in my lap. It's good to be home.
My father cried when I left his home.
He hugged me more than he has in my whole life, told me he loves me, told me his life is winding down but mine's just starting. He told me "You know I never hated you. I don't know if you ever knew that." Which caused me to cry because honestly no, I never did. He asked me if I thought I'd be coming back up to New York at some point. I said of course, I have friends here and I'll visit when I can. He said "You'll come to New York, but you won't come here." And I assured him I would visit the house and him, although previously I had no intention of doing so. He asked if he came down to Florida if he could stay with me. I said sure, as long as you can handle my dog. It's very abnormal for him to ask questions such as these, to seek reassurance and approval. He's never done such a thing in my presence. It seemed almost as though he were suddenly a little boy, lonely and pathetic. He stood before me and said "You're alright." in an incredilous voice, forcing me to realize for the first time that he knew subconsciously the trouble I was in and didn't really believe I would make it out alive. It took me over an hour to bid him and my sister farewell. I feel bad for him. He's watching his family leave him, hardly looking back to see if he's alright. And yet you ask for certain things in life, not by words but with your actions. It's only now my father realizes that abusing your family will cause them to leave. It's only now my father sees that when wondering why your wife and children dislike you, sometimes your mind can go back to when you neglected and terrorized them. I think in those moments before I took my leave of him he understood clearly that it isn't my mother's fault. I saw the understanding in his eyes. He didn't say it, but his tears spoke for themselves. I think in that moment he realized what a dick he's been to us our whole lives. I think he felt bad about it, think he wished he'd done things differently so this ending wouldn't have come about. Unfortunately, it's too late to re-raise his children. It's too late to save his marriage. It's too late to be a father to two little girls who grew up scared in their own home. But these girls are adults now, and perhaps now he will begin to amend his past with his actions in the present. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He is, afterall, my father.
My kitten is sleeping in my lap. It's good to be home.