Ladies Don't Start Fights...

The Upside Down~ A place like here, except dark, eerie, and full of A Monster.

Just one Monster.

 That’s how I have been describing the surreality coursing through my life.

I am trying to survive in The Upside Down.

Dear Dad,

I do not anticipate that you will manage to make your way to the end of this journey. If you do, Thanks.

   I love you Dad. I loved you so much. My daughters recently unearthed a time capsule which included a note written by a sixteen year old me. They were surprised to see that I had named you as “The Person You Most Admire.” I shared that note with you mere days later. You made no remarks whatsoevever. You did mention your dating profile though, and how you wanted to practice driving your motorcycle with a passeneger.

 I looked up to you Dad. I worked hard to make you proud. When I felt that I hadn’t met your expectations, it stung me. Your disappointment drove me to be better. Thank you for that.

 Time passed, I grew. We fell away from one another. Then, seven years ago there was a heated exchange in your bedroom. Two requests were made that day. You, Dad asked me to work on building a relationship with my Mom. And in turn you, Dad, were asked to build a relationship with me.

 Today I am so grateful for the different paths you and I chose. Because you asked me Dad, I did build a relationship with Mom. Over the past seven years I was able to take time and get to know My Mother.

As an adult.

One on One.

I was given her undivided attention.

 Those beautiful mornings when I would bring my coffee up and just be with Mom began because YOU asked it of me. The counsel, the humor, the calming constant vibe of My Mother became a vital part of my growth. Cherished, sacred moments that molded me into the woman I Am. Her tender, authentic self. Teaching me, holding me, talking me out of my temper. (Everyone is still alive. Thanks Mom.) How fortunate that I chose to honor your request. I will forever be grateful I made that choice. Precious moments that will now, have to sustain me for the remainder of my life.

 And thank you for the course you chose Father.

 Make no mistake, the first couple of years were painful. Waiting for you to reach out to me. Waiting for a text, a call. I thought since you were driving alone (?) for two, three hours a day, it wouldn’t be a problem. But alas, nothing. Three years after you were  asked to work on Our relationship I built you a ‘Golden Ticket’ for Fathers Day remember? It was pretty. It was a ‘Dad, lets do whatever you want! My treat’ ticket. You have yet to cash it in. The next Father’s Day I picked you up, drove you to a beautiful spot and endeavored to figure out why we still had a disconnect. However, you still didn’t make any motions towards me. Remember when I had that major surgery, and I was in the hospital for five days? I saw you a grand total of ONCE. And you came with Mom.

 After that, I struggled to work with the fact (yes, FACT) that you didn’t chose to build a relationship with me. I missed you. I missed the connection I had with my Dad. Eventually that wound on my heart developed a calice, but the deep pain was still there.

Last fall Mom came to my house and sat in my kitchen.

She cried and asked me, “Jill, you know your Father loves you, right?”  

“Ok, sure Mom. Why can he not say that for himself? He knows how to find me.”

Past the pleasantries, I mean.

Past the passing, placid hug in the kitchen.

Nothing.

 Then, Mom was ripped from our lives. Taken, violently.

 Right as she had begun to live.The fact is Mom had chosen the path of service. She stayed in town to take care of her Mother. She delayed traveling, she waited, she invested, she saved, she sacerficed. Now, fourty years in the making, the fruits of her labor were finally in season. Onward to time with “Her Sweetheart”.

Stolen. Fast and Harshly.

 The day she died was the first time Scott set foot inside that house since the day He requested that You build a relationship with Me. Seven years ago.

That day my hope was renewed. Maybe I would have my dad again…Perhaps here, was a mighty change of heart..

… It was a beautiful, fleeting thought.

 You see Father, you were being very honest with my sisters and I when you told us “This isn't as hard for me as it is for you.”

Clearly, it hasn’t been hard for you at all.

 Watching you in the chapel at your grandson’s baptism as you held and caressed Nilza made me sick Dad. Sick. That you would be so insensitive and disrespectful of Caitlin's family and the sacred occasion of the day was staggering. It was a demonstration that you are spiritually unconscious.

 Yet my sisters and I decided to respond with integrity and grace. We were kind. We extended courtesy. We reached out. When Scott and I had both of you, and Linda and Granny  in our home for Sunday dinner Sara learned to say “I like your shirt.” in Portugese in an attempt to build a bond.

 How was our attitude met? Like this... We, the daughters you know damn well are struggling with the fresh (109 days ago) tragedy of losing our Mother, We get that fatal (group) text. Adding insult to injury and further showing us where your priorities lie.

“Hi My Dears

I love you. I want to tell you that

I am going to ask Nilza to marry me.

I’ve thought about this quite throughly

and it’s what I am going to do.

Again, I love you all very much. (smiley face)”

 But, again I have to say thank you. Because you see Father, after that heartless, cowardly report of what you wanted to tell us, (not discuss, tell) Shit started to fly. Thanks to you. Information. Data. Indiscriminent, and like a fire hose started spewing into my life. Into the lives of my children. Into the lives of my sisters. Into my business. Gems such as how you felt ripped off for having been married to My Mother for forty years. That you never knew joy until you met Nilza. That you are in This One for the long haul.  Or lets touch on the fact that you Father, as a sitting bishop, approached women (womEn) in the ward the week after My Mother died. Asking out women while you prepare the funeral of your wife. I also got to learn that those women haven’t been back to church since.

Dad, this is appalling.

 Now the community whose trust was violated feel that it is fine to air thier grievences about you to me. To my husband. To our family.

 Then there is the campain to present yourself as a victim in this senerio. Villifying some, guilt tripping others, and flat lying or manipulating information to suit your skin. My issue is, I don’t think any of this is new for you. That Sunday dinner we had with Nilza, you told all of us the only word you had learned in Portugese was the word for “I”. (after talking for two months) 
Shocker.

 But that’s who you are.  A selfish, narccisistic man who is finally free.

You better believe I left that book out to be a brat.

You are detracting from the greater tragedy.

You have effectively dismantled the sacred circle you entered into with My Mother.

You have violated trust.

You have poisoned the family she left to sheperd her children.

You have placed people in untenable positions.

You have been malicious.

You have broken my sisters hearts.

You have broken my daughters hearts.

Your desires, your lust, your needs, your turn, your boat, your motorcycle, your happiness, you’re the victim, people are punishing you, you, you.

Fuck You.

 Father, thank you for not chosing me. That choice, proven over the last seven years, and sharpened these past months, has made this insult easier to see. There is a new circle now. And you have chosen to exclude yourself. I now chose to close it. My family doesn’t want to be party to your double  lie/life. I would ask that you not speak further on anything that may involve me. Or my family. I will pay you that same courtesy. I also feel that since you have lit the fires around you with such zeal, you should move.



Dear Everyone Else,

In our future encounters, please suppress the desire to inquire after the relationship between My Father and Myself. If you have questions, feel free to reread.
Love You~