At the time of my first divorce, my first husband was not taking it very well. He struggled with low mood, and maybe undiagnosed depression. He was a kind soul, a gentle human with a good heart. So many things I remember about my first husband Paul that make me smile.
It wasn’t his fault I was unhappy. We were not the right partner for each other.
Worried about Paul, I called my Dad on New Year’s Eve in 2008. I had given up my tickets to go out with our friends and encouraged Paul to take a friend with him instead. A fancy New Year’s Eve dinner with dancing and bottomless drinks. I stayed at home, on my computer.
When I explained to my Dad that I was worried about Paul, he first chastised me for going ahead with the divorce. After all, Paul made a lot of money. We couldn’t have kids (which sounded like a life of luxury to my Dad… I mean, kids are fine, but life is better without them).
Thanks, Dad. Exactly what I needed to hear after years of miscarriages and $25k in fertility procedures. Exactly what I needed to hear, as an adult looking for comfort from her father.
The conversation progressed to “you’d be f*cking stupid to leave him… what, do you want to be poor? You are nothing without him. You have everything going for you right now, and you are about to f*ck it all up?”
Me: “I’m very unhappy Dad.”
Domenic the Verbal Impaler: “Everyone is unhappy. Deal with it. What matters is having money.”
Me: “I don’t care about money. I care about being happy.”
Domenic the Verbal Impaler: “Then you are more f*cking stupid than I thought you were.”
Me: “I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself, Dad. I couldn’t live with myself if he did something like that, because I caused him pain. His Mom called me two days ago to say “If my son kills himself I will hold you responsible”.
Domenic the Verbal Impaler: “Tough shit. His problem. Take everything you are entitled to. Alimony support too. He can afford it. If he kills himself, he kills himself… it’s not your problem”.
Me: “Thanks, I have to go. Happy New Year.”
It was then that I realized my Dad cared about only one thing; money. I don’t hate money, that stuff sure comes in handy for virtually everything. The difference between me and my father (and there are many) is that I value people, over money. I value my integrity, over money. I value happiness… over money.
I did not “go after everything” as he suggested. I quietly left my marriage, leaving him with the house, the car I had almost paid for, and almost all the furniture. I moved into a 390-square-foot apartment with my chihuahua Diego and was completely broke. Ketchup, Diet Pepsi, and dog food was pretty much everything in my cupboard for a long time. Without the free meals at work, and the occasional visit to a food bank, I wouldn’t have made it.
But I chose to stop talking to my father in 2008. And I didn’t hear his voice again, for ten years. But after I almost died (the first time in December 2018), I did pick up the phone around Christmas to call him. To extend a branch of forgiveness, and try to start over.
To be clear, I had done nothing to my Father. But I was still willing, with the perspective of near-death experience, to make the most out of my time on the planet. Even if that meant forgiving some very big wounds inflicted on me from age 18 to 32. Seriously. Toxic. Destructive. Sh*t. I loved him so much, that I faithfully hated myself, because he convinced me I was ugly, stupid, and unworthy.
It was then that Domenic the Verbal Impaler leveled me for the last time.
Me: “Hi Dad, it’s Lori. I just wanted to hear your voice. I am not sure if you heard but I was in the ICU for a couple of weeks. I pulled through, but it changed how I think about things. I miss you. Maybe we can talk and you can come to visit in Texas? I have twin stepsons who love to fish…
Domenic the Verbal Impaler: “This is awkward. To be honest Lori, I only have one daughter. I tell everyone else my other daughter died.”
[Insert soul-shattering effects and some weird kind of traumatic numbed stance with stupid crocodile tears dripping down]
Me: “You what?”
Domenic the Verbal Impaler: “You are dead to me. You call me out of the blue and expect my forgiveness? You betrayed me. You picked your side. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about you for years. You are a disappointment to me.”
The Inner Three
Inside of me are three beings. No, I do not have multiple personality disorder. I wish (that might actually be fun). Moving on.
There is the inner child (she swings on our cottage swing in an old Star Wars nightie with long black hair and big brown eyes). Dragging her feet in the sand and drawing designs with her toes.
There is the inner mother, who has a calming but confident demeanor. She steps to the forefront and pushes the child back, to attempt to reason through a situation with parental protection and fierce, blunt, and direct logic. She looks more like a Viking Shield Maiden if I am being honest. But you can rationalize with her. She listens. And evaluates the situation, while keeping the inner child calm. And protected from the verbal shrapnel. Shields up!
Then there is a black and red dragon. Generally speaking, the dragon doesn’t do much but play with the child. Often when meditating, I see them running through a field of clover hay (like our childhood farm). They seem happy and trusting with each other.
Until the child is attacked. Then, if you can visualize my inner self, it looks more like… Shield Maiden conversing, very formidable red and black dragon a few paces behind her. And tucked inside its tail and wings, is the child.
I went to therapy for years. It’s not psychosis. I got bonus points for being able to visualize with such clarity, my inner child, my rational inner adult, and my protective fury. Boy, the weapons on the dragon I probably shouldn’t be proud of. But I am. Those weapons were built for a reason.
… and it continued.
Me: “I never betrayed you. You asked me to choose between your cruel and erratic behavior that was injuring EVERYONE WHO LOVED YOU, and Zia Antonietta. You were a hate-filled callous, manipulative liar, and she was love and loyalty. You made me choose. I chose LOVE.
Domenic the Verbal Impaler: “You should have chosen your Father, but you aren’t smart enough to figure it out. So, what do you want from me, money? Is that what you need?”
CUE DRAGON (RAWR!)
Me: “The most you ever made in your entire lifetime is $63k. I am happy to report that my “stupid little business” made twice that amount this year alone. So f*ck your money, I don’t need it. I never did. I never will.
You are a hate-filled, misogynistic, psychotic manipulator. You turn people against each other. You lie, you steal, you’ve been nothing but a criminal mind your entire life (those are your Father’s words Domenic), thinking you were smarter than everyone else. Money and yourself are the only two things you love. That was true ten years ago, and it is even more true now. You didn’t deserve this olive branch… I feel sorry for my sister. You are f*cking her up in ways she doesn’t even know yet. How does it feel to know you’ll die with only two people on this planet that will actually miss you? Your wife, and Kim.”
[CRITICAL HIT]
Domenic the Impaler: [sucks in a breath and adopts a softer tone] “… well you know Lori, this is more a conversation that should happen in person, not over a phone. Are you coming back to Canada soon? We can meet up and …”
Me: “Naw, I’m good.”
[Click]
Yeah, I am paraphrasing. I think there were more F words in there undoubtedly. And some other nasty sh*t that cut him to his core. As I said, the dragon does not f*ck around. I knew with precision exactly what to say, that would hurt him the most. The truth.
And I kept my word. Today it has been fifteen and a half years since I have been in the same room, and five years since heard his voice. I stopped pining for him in 2018 when I realized, I was missing nothing but my concept of what a loving Father should be. He was that very briefly, and then he changed. And the man he became was so corrosive, he harmed our family in ways that took a long time to heal.
Now when I think about my Father, there is nothing. The most dead neutral feelings. Like someone I used to know who moved far away, and we lost touch. Even when I have heard he is sick, there is nothing there (which makes me feel like a horrible person). To the frustration of my sister, there are no “give a f*cks” left when it comes to him.
Just an empty space that neither hurts nor angers me anymore. Which I started filling with other things. Small dogs, mostly.
Do We Owe the Dying Forgiveness for All Injuries?
Every time my sister updated me about my Father’s condition, I expressed sadness… for her. “I am sorry, I know this is hard for you Kim,” and I meant it. I knew she would be feeling great pain as his health became worse. I reached down deep to see what it would mean to me if he died. All I came up with was sadness, for my sister. There was literally, nothing else there.
For a long time, I felt that made me a bad person. Who can stop loving a parent?!? What is wrong with you Lori? Turns out that children who are raised with toxic and abusive partners either suffer the wounds their entire lives, desperate to conform to the “Honor Thy Parents” social expectation, or they make a different choice. They walk. And choose their own mental health and happiness.
I feel proud of myself now. That I had the strength to do that. Never in any of the adversities of my life have I relied on my parents. Although, my Mom helped me when I lost my job in 2021 with a vital small loan that helped me get back on my feet. I paid her back in full, four months later. But appreciated the sensation of having a parent help me. That was totally new to me. It felt, really nice.
My sister is on her own journey of healing. But her aggressive (transference) behavior toward me forced a timeout in January. I told her, we can talk and visit, when she treats me with basic kindness and stops putting me on blast for her unresolved emotional issues. I’ve taken daggers from Kim my whole life. My own progression in healing (protecting myself for a change) created a boundary.
Be nice, or don’t talk to me. So we haven’t talked for six months now. Go figure.
She reached out today to ask me to forward something to my Mom. My Mom and I have repaired our relationship. I spent a wonderful week with her here in Texas, and my heart was full. As grown women, we realized that while we cannot undo the past, we can make the most of whatever time we have left on the planet. And I like the positive relationship we have again. It feels really good.
Uncle Doug Passing Soon and Contemplating Old Hurts
My Mom is a twin. Her older brother Doug is failing and not expected to live long. My sister provided contact information for my Mom to reach out to her brother. The brother who defrauded my grandmother throughout his life. The brother who never cared for his mother (my Nan). The brother who ran away to Western Canada leaving a car loan in my grandmother’s name. He (and his eldest son) financially destroyed my grandmother.
Note to self… clinical anxiety is nurture, not nature.
Moving on.
My mom talked to me this morning, and we shared the same view. Sad to hear anyone you once loved, is dying. Yes. You never want to see someone suffer. Sad for their close family and friends (which do not include us). Very sad for his three sons, and their families as well.
But she feels nothing but that neutral blank space that is forged when someone abuses the love you once had for them, straight out of your heart. Something used to be there, but it isn’t anymore. And she is not to blame for that neutral lack of affect… he is.
I spoke to her twin, my Aunt Pat today. My sister unloaded on her in her usual hate and spite-filled toxicity. It was brutal. I read the screenshot message. I apologized to my Aunt for Kim and the horrible things she said.
The saddest thing is that I know, no real progress or breakthrough or healing will happen to my sister, while my Father is alive. She has been gaslit for over two decades. All she knows is she is lonely, forgotten, and unhappy.
But what she doesn’t know, is he helped create that isolation, so he could cling to her for his emotional and tangible needs in his senior years. Well played. That might have been me too, if I didn’t exorcise him like the cancer he is. My sister is an unhappy person, who blames the world for her inability to establish boundaries with a toxic, exploitative man.
I can’t help her. She has to help herself.
My Aunt and Mom cannot go to a service for their brother, because frankly, he was a lifelong criminal piece of sh*t who caused so much pain, they were glad to see him out of their lives.
I cannot go to a service for my Father when the time comes, because that would be disingenuous of me. There is nothing left of him in my heart. No anger. No hate. Just… nothing. And I am incapable of lying or standing up to say kind words about a man who literally, excelled at causing pain to people who loved him the most.
Naw. Hard pass.
You don’t get to live your entire life as a complete and utter asshole, disregarding and exploiting people, and then expect forgiveness and deliverance from a higher power on your deathbed. Or be surrounded by kind and loving words, and reassurances that your life was a good one, which you have damaged people significantly with your selfish bullsh*t.
YOU DID NOT EARN THE LOVE YOU NOW SEEK AT THE END
Every day, I try to love. I try to pour into relationships that matter to me because those people mean so much to me. And I hope I mean something to them too. That my kindness will resonate in the hearts of people who knew me, long after I am gone. That is the only immortality that we actually have.
One day, when I am a very old woman, I will have a tapestry of adventures in my head to replay. Moments of pain and disappointment, but also great personal victories. Intimate romantic moments, adventures, and true faithful friendships.
And hopefully, I will have earned some loved ones around, as my health declines. If for nothing else, than to sit back and share the stories of my well-traveled soul. Knowing that every day, I was driven by good intentions and generosity. If there is love around you, when you need someone, whether a friend or family member, you know you are doing life right.
Every time I feel burnout and consider I really should learn to care less, about everything really, I find a hidden reserve to care more. It’s not easy being woke, sensitive, and caring. But I have visuals of what life is like, without those essential elements. It’s a dark place I will never resign to.
I will die happily fulfilled and peaceful when my time is up. After fifty years I can honestly say I have never pursued cruelty to others. I have helped when I can. I have encouraged others through hard times, even when I was living through difficulties myself.
Someone I love taught me that LOVE is the most important legacy we leave behind. And I miss her every day of my life.
Zia said that acts of love are like little coins in a piggy bank that adds up to love, support, and kindness when you, someday, need it in return. Pay it forward, make the world a better place, and know that acts of love and service are the echo of kindness that you leave behind.
End-of-life epiphanies don’t mean much to me. Callous as that sounds. You chose a path of hate and harm, and weep the lack of community and support around you at the end?
There is no way to game the system, when it comes to lack of kindness and integrity. When you are playing your final hand, you should focus on reparation and apology. What gifts can you give people on the way out, that will heal their hearts? Unselfishly give people the peace to live their lives better, after you are gone.
Do not seek the love and kindness that you are not owed, because of your choice to live a life of cruelty and hate. You literally made your bed. Now lie in it. A true epiphany would be self-realization, understanding that YOU need to make things right for those you hurt, who will be left behind.
Not reaching desperately out to see your needs fulfilled. When you saw fit, to fulfill none for others.
[Pat dragon on the head]
That’s the pragmatic truth of choice in life.
If you want forgiveness, start with an apology, and see what is possible. If you deem no apology is necessary for the pain you caused? Expect nothing from the victims of your hate, in your hour of need. We owe you nothing.
