As a child my father was my hero, but he was also a violent man. Quite often I would have the odd bruise or red mark. I finally escaped and went to live with my mom at the age of 11/12. Throughout my teens I wouldn’t speak to him. The last time he went to hit me was when I was 17, but by now I was a very head strong young women and stood up to him.
He did try and speak to me over the following years but I had basically disowned him by then. I said I wouldn’t speak to him until he apologised for the beatings. He wouldn’t thou.
One day he tried he tried again but I turned away and said I didn’t want to talk to him. He calmly said “when you’re ready” This was the last thing he ever said to me.
Over the next 20+ years I would have moments when I wanted to talk to him but couldn’t as I wanted him to say sorry for what he did to me and my mom.
He dead 5 weeks ago today, at Leckhampton. Finally I was ready to see him, to talk to him. I asked him why he wouldn’t say sorry. I am never going to get the answer to that now. He didn’t look like the monster I remember. Listening to my sisters and his partner he wasn’t that monster anymore.
I am very lost at the moment. I am ok if I am busy but don’t do so well when alone, doesn’t help I live alone and spend a lot of time driving to and from work where my mind also seems to focus on this now. I cant talk to family as I dont do “talking”.
One of his last wishes was that all his girls got on again as we had falling out many years ago and this wish he got. We all carried his coffin and since have been together as a family group many times.