I need some closure.
With Lorraine, I knew exactly where I stood with her. I knew that she had washed her hands of me both physically and psychologically. I knew that there was absolutely no hope of reconcilliation, that my advances and attempts were completely not wanted.
So I'm not really all that suprised to have woken up this morning still not mourning (the adult me).
Then there is Larry/Dad. I don't even know what to call him, I'm so uncertain.
Growing up, I always felt like I was daddy's little girl. He travelled a lot for work, and when he was gone, the abuse was uncontrolled. I hang on to little things... like the last time that she had ripped my room apart while I was in school, then made me sit in the middle of it "until your father gets home to see what you have done". I will never forget looking tearfully up at him and whispering "I didn't do it". And him looking tearfully down at me and whispering back "I know".
I used to wish, hope and dream that they would get divorced, so I could go and live with my dad. THEN life would be good. THEN I wouldn't have to walk home with that sinking feeling in my tummy, wondering what she's done this time, or what she's going to do to me today.
As I became a teen, I rebelled. I ran away. I became an embarrassment. I can say that, as an adult, looking back on the situation from their point of view. Sure we had problems, but we never took it outside the home. I remember Lorraine telling me I couldn't attend Al-A-Teen, because "she was the one with the problem, not me". She didn't want anyone knowing, was the problem.
When I started running away, my dad always knew where to find me. And he let me stay out there, until he felt it was no longer a safe place for me, or it became to hard for him because he was missing me. I'll never forget him showing up on the doorstep of the man I was staying with, Constable Bell beside him, and telling me he had to come and get me because it was one of the boys' birthdays and the whole family had been together and it wasn't right without me there. Do you know, that was the very first and last time I ever remember my mother hugging me? And it was only because there were people there. She made sure to look me in the eyes first, so I could see how she really felt.
Life was unbearable in my teen years. I made a lot of bad choices. Most of them, at the time, seemed like the only choice. There are a couple I'll forever regret. Missing Don and Louise's wedding stands out at the top of the list.
When I moved out, there was a big tantrumy scene, and my parents called the police to mediate. Constable Bell came. He put down that I could leave (I was a month shy of 17), as long as I phoned home once a week to say I was okay. I didn't even have to tell them where I was.
I remember standing out in the carport with my garbage bag of stuff. My mother wouldn't let me take much. It was so sad to have to leave behind my bookshelf. But I'll never forget standing out in the carport waiting for Doug and Steve to come and get me from Maple Ridge... and my dad coming out and waiting with me. I don't recall what we talked about, except one line. "Don't get pregnant, Diane".
Five months later the police drop me off on their doorstep, pregnant. Was that the beginning of the end for him?
They put me in Maywood Home for Unwed Mothers. I went willingly. I had no other options outside of the streets. I don't remember if he came to see me.
When I had the baby, I named him after his father and my father. If he had been a girl, his middle name would have been after Lorraine. I was desperate for approval. The interaction I had was with my mother, at that point.
The next time I saw my father, he brought a tricycle out for Douglas. He was two. I lived in a shack. He stayed for a bit and visited. I hugged that visit close to me for years. I beleived in my heart of heart that if it weren't for Lorraine, he would have stayed being my daddy.
More years went by. I saw them a couple of times. It's now been probably 13 years since I had my last contact with them.
Sam had a very tense conversation with Larry, trying to get an item from my childhood back, that involved my mother shrieking in the background and Larry saying that I was a horrible teenager and that I made them look like animals or something like that. It broke my heart, and I thought him lost forever. I put it to bed.
I worked the last ten years to put that family behind me and move on with my life. And I've succeeded.
Yesterday, after receiving the email from Louise and learning Lorraine was dead, I called Sam. Without knowing it, she uttered one line that changed my world perception completely (which we clarified later). What it comes down to is that we don't know if he was saying the things he said because his wife was freaking out or if it came from his heart.
I have to know.
He has had cancer twice. He's not well. He's 71. If he dies, and I have not gone to see if I am truly dead in his eyes as I was in hers, I will forever regret it. Feeling as I am about Lorraine, I know that I'm in a good place with her. I'm not with my father. I need to look him in the eyes and say hi.
So I'm driving out there today. I'm going to do a workout, then shower and dress with care. Then I am driving out to Coquitlam and I'm going to knock on his door.
Worst case scenario, he's not home.
Second worse case scenario, he answers and welcomes me. They truly are a disfunctional family, and I have stated (and meant it) for many years that I am better off without them in my life.
Best case scenario, he slams the door in my face. Then it is done, and I can mourn it, and then put it away, knowing I once again tried to make peace and was the bigger person.
I think the scariest part of all is that I actually slept really well last night. I woke up this morning with the same peaceful resolve. I know in my heart of hearts that I am doing the right thing. It's almost the same feeling I had in the hour before my wedding.
I don't have a plan of what to say. And I'm not even thinking about it. Maybe "hi". Maybe I'll ask him to come out with me for coffee. I don't know. Maybe he'll slam the door and I won't need to say anything.
I'll let you know how it goes.
If you have issues, or baggage, you may be offended by what you read here. I work through my self loathing of my own fat, and my own fat issues, and I’m told this comes across as loathing all fat people. That is simply not the case.
Here I talk about my issues and my findings, without political correctness. I am not concerned with your issues, or your baggage, or what you may take from this. The title is "My Journey".
This blog is not meant to inspire anyone. I take no responsibility for what you take away from here. You are here as a guest into my inner thoughts.