On Death

Daddy and Mamma married barefoot in the living room.
Mamma was beautiful, Daddy was stoned.

Daddy didn't know too much about making money
So he learned how to beat the casinos.
That worked for a while.

Then, when he became too much to bare,  (I was eight years old),  Mamma dreamed of another life.
She left Daddy.
Daddy begged me to move West with him.

When I close my eyes and remember my childhood -

I can hear the *bing bing bing* of the casino
I can smell the recirculated air.
I can feel the heavy bucket in my hand

Maybe my stomach turns - remembering those long drives cross-country in a UHAUL. Vegas, Back East, Reno, Back East. I used to get car sick.

Apartment living. Five schools by the Sixth grade. New friends. Dirty Dresses. I never could fit in.
My Best friend was the original Nintendo. By 7 years old, I had beat Super Mario Brothers forward and backwards. No one to play with.

Once, I invited all the neighborhood kids into the house and they stole all of Daddy's $2. bills. I told them where to find them. I was tired of being alone.
We just moved. again.

Then, Poverty.

When Daddy couldn't afford an apartment anymore, he lived in the casinos.
And, I lived with any kind hearted friends willing to take care of me.
Fortunately for me, I learned Korean. And, Russian.

As an adult, Daddy was mad.

He was Mad at Mamma. Mad at his parents. Mad that I went to a "Liberal" University. Mad I moved to Italy. Mad that I had a Baby. Mad that I wasn't Jewish. Mad that I didn't respect him, didn't need him, didn't love him. ENOUGH. Mad. No. Matter. What. I. Did.

He still didn't have a job. Didn't have anyone to love. Poor Health. Aggressive.
But, he put all of his money into beating the casinos. And now, the Stock Market.

He hit on all of my friends. Asked them to come to the casino with them.
He hired a 29 year old Russian prostitute, to be his girlfriend.

He pushed everyone in his life away. He claimed he found God, but I didn't believe him.

When my baby grew up, Daddy tried to control her, like he controlled me as a child. I did everything I could to protect her.

Daddy sued me.

He told the court that he had a right to spend as much time as he wanted with his blood grandchild.
They threw Daddy out of the courtroom.
I almost lost my house to Lawyers fees.

I haven't spoken to my Father in a year.
He spends all of his time telling everyone who will listen how much he is mad at me.

Someone told me the other day:

"You will be sorry when he dies."

______________________________________________


That might be true. From where I stand, I cannot tell you what I will feel when that day comes.
But, I tend to think I will feel relief.

I have been grieving the slow and inevitable death of my Father for years. I am bereft of a Father.

There is a gaping whole in my heart where there should be: a hug, and advice. Words of endearment. Wiping tears from my cheeks. Encouragement. Helping me move into my new house. Guidance. A dance at my wedding. Rocking my baby on his knee. ..  Loving me. A Father's love.

When he dies, his suffering will end.


I will never have the Father I have been longing for my entire life.
But God grant him peace and an end to his suffering.

Yes, at my Father's funeral I will rejoice.