The death of my step father was liberating for me. One demon down. Three to go. Sad. I’m not a fan of the adjective step when it comes to parents. I don’t even use that word for my father’s wife of 44 years. Strangely enough, I bestow that word on my mother’s husband of 30 plus years because, technically, he did raise me from 7 on. He put a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food in my mouth (amongst other things…). In my delusional mind, I’m grateful he did do some of the right things a step parent does. My real father was too busy raising his wife’s kids to be bothered to spend any quality time with me much less pay for anything for me. Sure, I would see him during the holidays and in the summer. Logically, during those times, he put a roof over my head and food in my mouth. Luckily, he didn’t sexually abuse me. Pedophilia wasn’t his downfall. He had other weaknesses. His big weakness was his inability to put his children first. He knows it too. He has admitted that to me.
Over the years, my time with him was never consistent. I was never a priority to him. His wife. Her kids. Those were his priorities. Still are. Now, add in her grandkids and you have a close knit family. I’m an outsider in that family. I don’t really fit in. I suppose I never really fit in. I’m not a bible thumper. All of them are. They all found Jesus. Together. Not me. With her family, he didn’t have to try. He was always there. He raised them. My brothers grew up with them, as well. But as soon as they were 18, they were gone. Gone as in good bye Dallas. All of my siblings left Dallas except her kids. They all live close to each other. They spend holidays together. I’m the only one that moved back to Dallas. And, yep…you guessed it. I don’t spend my time with that family. I never fit in. Ever. I’m an outsider. I tried when my oldest was young but after a few disappointing family events, I stopped trying. I so desperately wanted my son to have a relationship with my father. His other grandfather died when my son was 6 months old and there was no fucking way I was going to let Mr. Pedophile anywhere near my child. So, all I had was my father. I felt rejection from him my entire life. It hurt considerably more when he rejected my son. Rejected as in he was always at her kids and grandkids events and not mine.
I distinctly remember being at one of her grandkids’ birthday parties. My dad went to reach for my son and give him a hug and no more than 30 seconds later did his wife give him the proverbial evil eye. Like, how dare you pick up that boy and not my grandchild. He immediately put down my son and picked up one of her grandkids. I kid you not. I watched as this unfolded. Typical. She is such a selfish woman that my dad couldn’t give an ounce of love to my son. I was hurt and I was pissed. Not sure why though. This was par for her course. After all, she did fuck my father while my mother was pregnant with me. Guess I never really had a chance at ever having a relationship with my father. That woman was too busy monopolizing him making damn sure he didn’t spend any time with me. Now, it’s the same with my kids. But, hey, she is a damn good Christian! Oh the stories I have about that woman.
But, as I sit here and write these hateful words, I am at crossroad. I am stuck. I don’t know what to do. My dad just informed me that he has bone cancer now and it doesn’t look so good. I have never really had the chance to get to know my dad. Whether it’s because of her controlling nature or his inability to man up, I simply don’t know. But blaming him and her doesn’t do me any good now. The clock is ticking for this man. I have to be the one to step (hmmm…step as in step parent?) up, hold my head up high, and insert myself into what’s left of his life to have ANY sort of relationship. Regardless of her. Because, if I don’t, the very freedom I have felt from the death of my sexual predator, will be greatly diminished as I am caged up by the enormous pain I will feel from the death of my father whom I never really got to know after his continual rejection of me that started 45 years ago. His death will be the ultimate rejection if I don’t step up now.