Twelve years

The anniversary of my father's death is fast approaching. It will be 12 years this Christmas day that he died of a massive heart attack. It really didn't affect me too much either way his passing - we hadn't spoken to each other from when I was 19 and then not until when I was 22 to file assault charges and have him arrested. Great memories to have of your dad aren't they?

I can honestly say, that the good memories of my father are very sparse. There aren't many... but I know that there were some good times. They were not often, but some of the pictures of myself and him together when I was little, show a loving man, who, I don't know, lost himself somewhere along the way. I wish he had realized he needed help and sought it out, but the "macho" mentality never let him admit that.

I do blame my grandmother for some of his torment. She was an EVIL woman. She just never let up on anyone. Her life had been miserable and she just transferred that misery onto others, mostly her children and husband. My grandfather was beaten down so badly he died a shell of a man, and he was a sweet, sweet soul. Sadly, my father adored her and would do anything to make her happy. So she used that to her advantage, which for a mother is cruel. I give her part of the blame.

I do have to thank my father though for some things. For my love of science - he was always a big science nerd. For my knowledge of soccer (though it was limited) and my love and pride of Italy. He was a die hard Juve fan and he loved his homeland... no one could take that love or patriotism away from him. We always went to all the Italian festivals or parades decked out in green/white/red and we wore the colors of the flag with pride. I still feel that pride to this day of being Italian and raised by two parents who loved being from a nation filled with rich history, culture, food and a flare for fashion. It is good to be Italian :)

He also made me a stronger person, without really realizing it. By belittling me and trying to beat me down my whole life, he helped to make me a strong person. I can take a lot of crap - those closest to me know. I have lived through some crazy times and through some crazy things.... but I kept a portion of my sanity and have become a better person. Through the insanity that was my life with my parents, their marriage and the abused heaped onto me by my dad, he showed me that if those things couldn't break me then almost nothing could. I do have to say my mom was a big factor in my staying semi sane through a lot of it. Thanks mommy :)

What he didn't help me with was in being a good male role model. I never realized that I should be treated a certain way by the men in my life and because of that have made some bad choices in that aspect. I admit it - no need to shy away from the truth. But I am learning slowly, that I do derserve someone who appreciates me and loves me for what I am, slightly cracked and worn but still with love to give, and is patient enough to get to the heart of me, the REAL me. There are men out there like that... and maybe I may have been lucky enough to find one :)

So as 12 years rolls up on me, I feel bad for my father having died alone, and being left there. He had the chance to have a family and nuture it - but he chose not to. I wonder if had he sought help and asked for forgiveness, would our lives have been different??? Then again, I wouldn't be the person I am today if he had. And maybe, just maybe, this is who I was meant to be.