Love doesn't always come easy.

My father was a beaten man.   All my life I witnessed his addictions, his anger and his abuse.  I didn’t hate him but it did make it difficult at times for me to find that bond that I know exists between children and their parents. …a bond that I have with my own child.  

When I was in high school, I realized that if I didn’t distance myself from this life of abuse and addiction that I would fall victim to it, too.  So, without consciously knowing it at the time, I slowly but surely put time and distance between us.   It wasn’t hard to do at times since my father was a lifer. A decorated military man.  He spent more than 20 years in the military traveling around the country. Sometimes with his family and sometimes without us.

I don’t remember my father sharing his childhood experiences with us.  I would hear from my Aunts and Uncles of the abuse my father received as a child at the hand of his own father.  And when I heard about those incidences, it made me wonder if that is what made him so angry all the time.  My father followed in the footsteps of his father and his abuse towards his own children was another demon he had to face.

My father was a beaten man.  I read a quote from someone recently that said the bully and the bullied  are both victims. And I think that is true. 

My father passed away today.  His struggles and his sorrows are gone. He can rest now. While my emotions have been hidden or suppressed all these years, they surfaced today with a forgiveness  that I can’t explain and heartfelt love that I can’t explain either.

I visited my father this past Christmas Day for the first time in years. I don’t know what made me go. We had not exchanged words in years.  While it was strange, it wasn’t strained. And I was so glad. My last words to him were “I love you.” 

Today I am finding comfort in having had one last chance to ‘love’ him and tell him so.