Dear family: Part One

Dear Dad,
How have you been? I wouldn't know because you haven't said anything of meaning for about 5 months. Sorry, I don't consider the plagiarized self help bullshit you keep feeding me as meaningful. I can't help but direct some of this anger towards our past. I can't say I remember the days you spent in your drunken stupor. The earliest memory I have of us is in the old, gray caravan. We were on our way back from the doctor, and all I can remember is you beating the hell out of the dashboard/steering wheel. Strangely, when I think about the glory days of my childhood; I don't remember you, I remember long days spent wondering the fields by the
trailer park, playing in the yard, avoiding big brother Gilly's torment. Speak of the devil.

I don't blame you entirely for the way that he turned out, but a part of me see's that your addiction was a means by which he could start his. What I mean is that he got his thirst from you, either through seeing you drink yourself comatose or inherited it. Your alcoholism also played in your divorce, but not in the way that most would assume. I'll get to that. It was at least 8 years before Mom finally got you to seek help.

While on the subject of AA, I'm not sure whether to thank you or hate you. You dragged me to all of those fucking meetings, and sure I learned that alcohol destroys families and people, but along with that came all of the stories of abuse, sexual or otherwise, and self medicating. If I hadn't been 10, I think I would have to condone the actions. What I take from the experience is this: alcohol/drugs destroy (if not yourself) everyone around you, everyone has scars, no matter how bad you think you have it someone has it worse, and finally that when you see someone to treat that moment like its the last time you will ever see them. All in all, I think that it was a good thing, in spite of be exposed to abuse and addiction at it's most destructive levels.

In spite of the achievement of remaining sober for 7 years (at the time) and it's here that the marriage falls apart. Gilly's constant flirtation with jail and dealing out of the house didn't help, but you had a choice to work at it or to just accept that you no longer wanted her (3 children too late). Naturally, the finger pointing game started. She blames you for having a relationship with one of the women from AA, for which you denied, and you made light of all of her physical / mental ailments. Worst of all, whether intentional or not, you put me right in the fucking middle of it. Mom moreso than you, but nevertheless, I was there. No child should have to fucking choose which parent to believe, which parent to live with. I was 11, and to this fucking day I regret not only having to make that desicion, but constantly secondguessing the decision and what life would be like if I didn't live with the nut.

After the divorce, things were shaky. The weekend meetings kind of killed my social life, especially when all we did were watch movies and eat. You bitched about mom, in spite of promising not to, dragged me to more meetings to hear the same stories and continuing the circle of pity/selfpity. Life continued on a weekend to weekend basis, until mom moved me up north and our meetings grew more and more sparse. It was now that I think the final wedge was driven between us. You stopped sharing, and simply began answering. I drove the conversation, and was seemingly the only one truly interested in the other. Fourteen and minus a dad. I think I've turned out alright, in spite of a lack of direction and any help (aside from fiscal, which of course was greatly appreciated).

That's all I really have for now, because the time after I moved back was pretty much a cruise control of dinner/movies and small talk. Kind of sad really. I miss you and in spite of it all I love you, I wish you would say the same.

Your baby boy.