Lyrical Laments - 13. Chapter 13 Endurance

but ... i am glad you did.

4 minutes ago, Mikiesboy said:

but ... i am glad you did.

Thanks, tim. 

3 minutes ago, Valkyrie said:

Some people don't deserve to be called parents.  I'm glad you and your mom escaped.    

Thanks, Val. Looking back, there were some dangerous moments, and we were lucky more than anything.  

None of the emogies fit.  

You always move me. 😢😘

Thank you for the strength it took to write and then share this glimpse into your history; I’m sure it strikes a chord in fellow survivors everywhere, 👋 as your gift with words continually touch everyone anywhere.

I’m blessed to live in your lifetime.  

Cheers, my platonic friend.  🍻 

9 minutes ago, Kitt said:

None of the emogies fit.  

Thanks, Kitt. This is the second poem I've written about my biological father. The first one I carried a bit of guilt, or maybe it was more an unease about exposing that part of my childhood. When I read this one today after burying it for months, I felt none of that. I'm not like him, I have naught to be ashamed of, and I owe him nothing.  

9 minutes ago, FanLit said:

You always move me. 😢😘

Thank you for the strength it took to write and then share this glimpse into your history; I’m sure it strikes a chord in fellow survivors everywhere, 👋 as your gift with words continually touch everyone anywhere.

I’m blessed to live in your lifetime.  

Cheers, my platonic friend.  🍻 

Thank you, my platonic and loyal friend. The first one I wrote about that man took strength... this one was easy. You are so very kind... back then abuse was more likely to be ignored, and my mother had no place to turn. She had to take the step alone, moving us to a tiny house in the country, across from her sister's farm, and away from the physical threats. Now that took strength. I remember her own mother, my grandmother, saying it was her duty to stay... to stick it out. It was a different time. One of my better memories from that time was of my other grandmother beating the crap out of my dad with her purse, calling him everything under the sun. I was the one who called her before my father ripped the big, old, heavy phone out of my hands and threw the whole thing down the hallway. Thank God she heard my voice before it happened. She was such a tiny woman too, but I saw a hero that day. 

This return to tears and hurt must have been hard to write, yet you wrote it beautifully. Each stanza is a snapshot, each conveys emotions as powerful as a journalist’s photograph. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself. 

5 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

This return to tears and hurt must have been hard to write, yet you wrote it beautifully. Each stanza is a snapshot, each conveys emotions as powerful as a journalist’s photograph. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself. 

Thanks, Parker. I remember what stirred me to write this one. I pulled the blankets over my head when I was on the couch, something I never do, and I flashed back to that time when a blanket was my shield, something that gave me a feeling of safety during those scary times. The boogeyman was real for me. Thanks for reading and for the kind words. 

3 hours ago, Headstall said:

Thank you, my platonic and loyal friend. The first one I wrote about that man took strength... this one was easy. You are so very kind... back then abuse was more likely to be ignored, and my mother had no place to turn. She had to take the step alone, moving us to a tiny house in the country, across from her sister's farm, and away from the physical threats. Now that took strength. I remember her own mother, my grandmother, saying it was her duty to stay... to stick it out. It was a different time. One of my better memories from that time was of my other grandmother beating the crap out of my dad with her purse, calling him everything under the sun. I was the one who called her before my father ripped the big, old, heavy phone out of my hands and threw the whole thing down the hallway. Thank God she heard my voice before it happened. She was such a tiny woman too, but I saw a hero that day. 

So your Mom’s mom told her to stay and your dad’s mom beat her own son?!?!  Such a sad yet interesting perspective.  

I hope you don’t mind I see some humor in your tiny grandma beating her grown son (tho definitely not the reason for it)

Your Mom was a rock star for leaving and not going back, mine left twice and went back each time;  Even knowing in my head how hard it is to break away, in my heart I don’t think I’ve truly forgiven her for going back the second time.  😕

1 hour ago, FanLit said:

So your Mom’s mom told her to stay and your dad’s mom beat her own son?!?!  Such a sad yet interesting perspective.  

I hope you don’t mind I see some humor in your tiny grandma beating her grown son (tho definitely not the reason for it)

Your Mom was a rock star for leaving and not going back, mine left twice and went back each time;  Even knowing in my head how hard it is to break away, in my heart I don’t think I’ve truly forgiven her for going back the second time.  😕

Oh, I see the humor now too. I smile when I think of it, but I was traumatized that day. 

My mother went back once, years later. He came to our town and courted her, and it took some time but he convinced her he'd changed, and made all kinds of promises to all of us. That lasted for about a month or so, and my mom, who I think was exhausted trying to handle supporting three boys on her own for those years, fought back, and we were out the door so fast... she was so much stronger by that time, and I don't hold what she did against her. I never trusted him for a minute, though, and I think he knew it.     

For the first time ever, you've written something I can't rate...the pain you went through, the anguish and uncertainty from day to day...and finding the strength to get through that and become the wonderful father and man you are today--I just can't label how that makes me feel.

You are the proof that the chain of abusive parenting can be broken--in spades, given enough heart.  You wear armor of diamond and wield the club of compassion every day you show your kids what a true man is.

Infinite love and hugs, my dear....

8 minutes ago, ColumbusGuy said:

For the first time ever, you've written something I can't rate...the pain you went through, the anguish and uncertainty from day to day...and finding the strength to get through that and become the wonderful father and man you are today--I just can't label how that makes me feel.

You are the proof that the chain of abusive parenting can be broken--in spades, given enough heart.  You wear armor of diamond and wield the club of compassion every day you show your kids what a true man is.

Infinite love and hugs, my dear....

God, your words slay me.  🗡️

Your mighty, powerful pen give praise to a most worthy subject.  🖋️ ♥️

Oh man, I so can relate to this. After my dad died, a few years later my mom remarried she felt I needed a dad, he was a drunk, stole money out of her wallet, had several girlfriends and when he was drunk he would beat my Mom up. I was at that time 7 or 8 years old. Before he would beat her up, he would dislocate her left shoulder. Mom would fight back like a tigress, but you can't do much with only one arm. Then one night, she was pregnant, he kicked her in her belly and she had a miscarriage. As soon as my mother was out of the hospital she filed for a divorce. I will never ever forgive him for what he did to my mom. He killed my brother or sister. Please forgive me for sharing my story.  While reading what you wrote it all came back.
I am so sorry Gary, that your Dad did that to you.
 

Namasté my brother. I hear your voice ...

 My own dad only became physical with mum once, early in their marriage while she was pregnant with me. He started to choke her. She had a lit cigarette in her hand and burned him until he let go. He never touched her in anger again. Mental abuse, yeah. Dad didn't take his wedding vows seriously. Appearntly he learned that from his father.Though mum is far stronger than he ever was she tolerated him because that was what was expected. Until, once when I was very small she took me and left. I'm uncertain how long but we stayed with her parents for awhile. Lived in the attic room, "peanut heaven". I remember bits of that time. My paternal grandparents and dad coming to visit. Going for a walk with dad and him buying me a little blue and yellow plastic steamshovel. Mum's parents warned her dad would never change, they were right, but we went back.

I was too young to understand. I only remember the good things. Sitting at the soda counter and spinning on the stool and drinking cherry coke. As I grew so too do the memories change. There were still good ones but I can remember times as a teen when I wrapped mum protectively in my arms and growled and roared back at him like some half grown tiger. I don't/can't remember but mum is certain there was one a time she thought he meant to kill me. Apparently he and I were arguing and he had an axe in his hand ... mum got between us. The thing is, he loved her and he loves me ... I've no doubt and I love him because he's my father but ... I don't really like him. He got one thing right. When she left he looked at me and admitted he lost something he could never replace and that I should look after her ... as if he had to tell me me that. I'd learned that lesson standing at his side.

Namasté my brother. I hear your voice ...

8 hours ago, ColumbusGuy said:

For the first time ever, you've written something I can't rate...the pain you went through, the anguish and uncertainty from day to day...and finding the strength to get through that and become the wonderful father and man you are today--I just can't label how that makes me feel.

You are the proof that the chain of abusive parenting can be broken--in spades, given enough heart.  You wear armor of diamond and wield the club of compassion every day you show your kids what a true man is.

Infinite love and hugs, my dear....

Aww... thank you, CG. You are such a good and kind friend. My life was similar to so many children, then and today. My mother said what we went through made me very independent. Now I can see she was right. I relied on myself from an early age, because I had to. There are so many stories I could tell... I used to say to myself I wished I wasn't so sensitive because I hurt easily, but maybe that is why I am the antithesis of my bio father. I love what you say about armor of diamond and club of compassion. It's poetic, and it's sweet.  

8 hours ago, FanLit said:

God, your words slay me.  🗡️

Your mighty, powerful pen give praise to a most worthy subject.  🖋️ ♥️

CG has a big ol' heart, and a sublime way with words.    

3 hours ago, Job said:

Oh man, I so can relate to this. After my dad died, a few years later my mom remarried she felt I needed a dad, he was a drunk, stole money out of her wallet, had several girlfriends and when he was drunk he would beat my Mom up. I was at that time 7 or 8 years old. Before he would beat her up, he would dislocate her left shoulder. Mom would fight back like a tigress, but you can't do much with only one arm. Then one night, she was pregnant, he kicked her in her belly and she had a miscarriage. As soon as my mother was out of the hospital she filed for a divorce. I will never ever forgive him for what he did to my mom. He killed my brother or sister. Please forgive me for sharing my story.  While reading what you wrote it all came back.
I am so sorry Gary, that your Dad did that to you.
 

Don't apologize, Job. I'm glad you shared your story. It sounds like we experienced similar abuse. When my mother eventually remarried, we had another rough ride, but not near the scale of the previous. My step father did love us, and suffered from un-diagnosed PTSD from the Korean War. He improved greatly over time, and especially after my sister came along. Two heart attacks slowed him down as well. I know I do excuse him for his actions, and maybe I shouldn't, but I really needed a dad. He is my dad... or was... before he passed. I'm sorry you suffered abuse as well, my friend.  

3 hours ago, dughlas said:

Namasté my brother. I hear your voice ...

 My own dad only became physical with mum once, early in their marriage while she was pregnant with me. He started to choke her. She had a lit cigarette in her hand and burned him until he let go. He never touched her in anger again. Mental abuse, yeah. Dad didn't take his wedding vows seriously. Appearntly he learned that from his father.Though mum is far stronger than he ever was she tolerated him because that was what was expected. Until, once when I was very small she took me and left. I'm uncertain how long but we stayed with her parents for awhile. Lived in the attic room, "peanut heaven". I remember bits of that time. My paternal grandparents and dad coming to visit. Going for a walk with dad and him buying me a little blue and yellow plastic steamshovel. Mum's parents warned her dad would never change, they were right, but we went back.

I was too young to understand. I only remember the good things. Sitting at the soda counter and spinning on the stool and drinking cherry coke. As I grew so too do the memories change. There were still good ones but I can remember times as a teen when I wrapped mum protectively in my arms and growled and roared back at him like some half grown tiger. I don't/can't remember but mum is certain there was one a time she thought he meant to kill me. Apparently he and I were arguing and he had an axe in his hand ... mum got between us. The thing is, he loved her and he loves me ... I've no doubt and I love him because he's my father but ... I don't really like him. He got one thing right. When she left he looked at me and admitted he lost something he could never replace and that I should look after her ... as if he had to tell me me that. I'd learned that lesson standing at his side.

Namasté my brother. I hear your voice ...

You made me tear up, dugh. Mum was smart to stand up to him from the beginning. Abuse, unchecked, escalates quickly... it did in my family. I fought my stepfather... I was almost six feet tall at the age of twelve, and I was fast, and very protective of my mom. I do not suffer bullies to this day. He was smart enough to learn that after a made a fool of him a few times. But little children can't fight back, either physically or with words. We are completely vulnerable, needing our parents to protect us.

In those times, woman were expected to keep their marriages together. There was a lot of pressure to do so, at least for my mom. Sometimes it works, but it didn't in my experience. My mom did finally kick out my stepfather, but at least I didn't hate him. I love him still, may he rest in peace. I understand when you say you love your dad but don't really like him. I experienced that conflict as well. Thank you for sharing your story, bro. I'm glad you can connect with the good memories... I don't have any of those of my bio dad. Thanks, dugh... you've helped me feel I did the right thing by exposing this part of my childhood.    

Gary...

Yay to mom, for having the courage to take you away from that torment. 

54 minutes ago, Defiance19 said:

Gary...

Yay to mom, for having the courage to take you away from that torment. 

 

 

 

I don't know where my mother got her strength from, but once she found it, she never relinquished it. I won't say she didn't made mistakes again... she was deeply affected by the abuse... but she managed to build us a good life. I miss her every day.  

I can't feel the pain you and your mother endured, but I admire the man you are to survived it.  Your mother and your one grandmother are rightly praised for their heroism.  Bless them both.  Your poem is deeply emotional and courageous.  Your are a very strong man to share such an intimate story with us. 

4 hours ago, raven1 said:

I can't feel the pain you and your mother endured, but I admire the man you are to survived it.  Your mother and your one grandmother are rightly praised for their heroism.  Bless them both.  Your poem is deeply emotional and courageous.  Your are a very strong man to share such an intimate story with us. 

Sharing these things can be extremely upsetting. Along with the fear of those times, there was real shame I had to deal with. No one wants to be ashamed of their father. I certainly didn't, and I tried my best to 'deserve' his love. As kids, we don't recognize a lost cause, but I learn fast... just not fast enough. Thank you, my friend.