Bear With Me

I usually try to keep most of my posts on this blog light and humorous. I do sometimes have issues, as we all do, that I like to vent about. I have, however, never really talked much about my life as a child. I've never pulled any of my skeletons out of my closet and thrown them at you.

I'm finding the need to today. I must warn you, this may be a long post. I tend to ramble when my mind is filled with past memories. Forgive me.

I had a dream last night. It was about my father. In my dream, he died. I walked in to his wake and at the front of the room was his casket. It was open. Next to the casket were his three sisters, my aunts. They were nodding at well-wishers as they tried to speak through their tears.

I took a deep breathe and walked forward. I knelt down at the casket and made the sign of the cross. I stood up and moved toward my aunts. They all burst out crying and told me how sorry they were.

I looked at them with absolutely no emotion and said, "Thank you." I turned toward the door.

Walking out I heard gasps and whispering, "That's it?" "She's leaving?" "She didn't even shed a tear."

My Aunt B. chased me outside where she proceeded to give me a piece of her mind. "How can you be so cold!" "He's your father!"

Blah, Blah, Blah.

I just walked away and smiled at the sense of relief that washed over me.

I then woke up.

Did you ever have a dream so vivid it stays with you all day? Well, that was one of those dreams. It was so realistic. And the thing that is bothering me so much, is that I'm afraid that is exactly how I will one day react to the passing of my father.

My father and I are pretty much estranged. He calls maybe twice a year. Usually it's when he's had a few too many and must be feeling either lonely or guilt-ridden. The conversations usually revolve around him and last approximately 5 minutes.

Then I spend the next 2 days reeling from it. I resort back to the little girl I was when he was in total control. The girl he demeaned and abused. I long for the father I should have had.

It's easier keeping our distance.

I've kept him away from my children. Yes, he's met them. He has seen my oldest a few times in the past 10 years. Most times it has been at a funeral. He has seen my youngest child once, the day after she was born, where he also saw the middle child for the second time. The first time for him was also the day after he was born.

It's the way it needs to be. I will protect my children from all the harm he is capable of. No matter what it takes.

He was a horrible father. He destroyed my self-esteem and my self-worth. He left bruises; physically, mentally, and emotionally. He was abusive to my mother, which made me become her protector. It's a trait I wear to this day, it's one she should have possessed, to protect me and my siblings.

I hope every day that I have taken that hurt and turned it into strength. I do see some of my father in myself. I try to correct that.

I tell my children I love them instead of calling them names. I try nurturing them instead of tearing them down. I hug them instead of hit them. I respect them instead of use them.

And when I fail to do the right thing, I own up to it and make it right.

So, I am wondering. What is this dream? Is it a message? Am I to take something from it? Why is my subconscious showing me this?

My smile, it seemed so wrong in my dream. But then again, it is quite fitting.