Saturday, Aug. 07, 2004
Dear Old Dud
I'm going to commit patricide any day now. I mean it. I'm gonna do it.
Since my mother died, my dad has decided to be my "dear old dad." Seriously, that's how he signs his emails. Old? Yeah, in his late 60's or thereabouts, so I'll give him that. Dad? In name and blood, yeah, much as I hate to acknowledge it. Dear? Not on your life. I tolerate him out of respect for my mother's memory, and absolutely nothing else. Though to be honest, considering how he treated her for the nearly fifty years they were married, I don't know that he deserves even that.
He's hounding me to play the piano for his wedding to a new woman, and to enroll my kids to perform various tasks in the nuptials. He demands firm promises to attend, to perform on demand, and so on. This from the man who literally choked 00 when she was about twelve or thirteen years old while trying to "cast out the devil" or whatever he was supposedly doing. This from the man who showed his love by beatings and lies and... Well, you get the picture. I have no love lost on him and neither do my children. He supported me when I was growing up, I'll give him that. His kids and grandkids came way down the list in order of importance to him, but that might have been the only thing that saved our lives. If we'd been important enough to warrant any more attention it might have killed us.
Since my mom died, though, he's been Mister Sugar & Spice, as though he were an adoring pater. I hope he marries this woman soon and that she doesn't walk out after the first week. If we're lucky, maybe she'll do us all a favor and kill him right off the bat.
I told dear old dad (ignore the gagging sound that accompanies that phrase) that I'll play piano for their wedding if I can get there, which is a pretty big if. I still don't have a working vehicle and I don't know if I'll be employed come December. If I'm really lucky, I'll be several states away and be unable to make it. Wouldn't that be awful?
Yes, that last sentence was dripping with a thick dose of sarcasm.
I don't even have the energy to hate the man any more. My mom is out of her misery now and thank God he lives three states away from the rest of us. I don't have a problem with the rest of my family, but my dad is one of those people who should've been sterilized at birth. And yes, I know that means I wouldn't be here. I am just too tired and too stressed to deal with the overdose of saccharine that comes oozing out of him these days. Only thing that works in my favor is the fact that I'm virtually never home for him to phone and whine to.
He reminds me of the stereotypical used car salesman - except not quite slick enough to pull even that off. Bad taste (think leisure suits and polyester). Bad fake smile. Bad believability factor. You name it.
I guess it was a good day for me to go buy that bottle of wine, wasn't it? Given my ongoing bouts of insomnia, a friend suggested I drink a single glass of red wine before bedtime. She said long as I don't do more than that, it not only won't hurt me, but will actually be healthier. I know there have been a lot of things discovered about the health benefits, and while I'm really not much of a drinker, I do occasionally have a glass of wine. I'm talking maybe twice a year normally - but I'll be upping the average if it works to help me sleep. And if I only have one glass, I won't be so impaired that I wouldn't be safe to drive, or couldn't fix something that broke down.
I'm over fuming now and think I'm going to try lying down for a little while. I slept last night - for about three hours or so, if that. I guess that's still an improvement, if I sleep well every other night and sleep three or four hours on the off nights, but I'm still exhausted the next day. Here's hoping that record improves further in the near future...
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )