He can do no wrong

a short story about my dad, and how his choices effected me growing up - this comes with a trigger warning for those who have similar trauma.

When you’re five, you don’t see the drug abuse..you don’t see the empty beer bottles on the coffee table and the ashtray full of cigarette butts, overflowing, drowning the room in the stench of stale smoke and alcohol-stained sheets. The holes burned into the sofa because your dad is out cold don’t register as red flags, they don’t seem dangerous. When you’re five, the fact that your dad gave the dog a bowl of beer doesn’t seem wrong..it’s funny to you. And, you look back now and feel bad, but it’s not your fault. When you’re five, all you see is the fun you have when he chases you around the house, laughing hysterically and squirming around to get away when he catches you. All you see is the movie nights you have with burnt popcorn and your favourite pop, all you see is the man you think to be equal to a god. He is your dad, your saviour, your hero..he’s the only man you love and he can do no wrong.  

When you’re twelve, you don’t see the pain in your mothers’ face when you ask her where your daddy is..the missing phone calls and strange explanations don’t raise any suspicions in your young heart, and you don’t know that he’s not really in Texas. When you’re twelve, all you want is safety from the man your mom so loves, from the man who hits you when you misbehave..daddy would never do that. When you’re twelve, you just want your family to go back to ‘normal’..but you never knew that what you had before was so far from it. When you’re twelve, you know the man dating your mom is sick in the head, but you still can’t see that with your daddy. When you’re twelve, you cry when your mom says, “honey, your dad is in prison” because what could your daddy do to end up in a place like that? He can do no wrong.  

When you’re fifteen, your dad comes back! He’s sober, and you know that, but you still deny the fact that he was sick in the beginning because he’s here, right? That’s all that matters now. When you’re fifteen, you get excited to see him in his new apartment downtown..he lives in Lil Italy now, and it’s so cool! You spend every weekend with him and he is healthy now, you don’t see the pain he endures every day because he still struggles with addiction. He keeps away for you, right? He keeps away so he can keep seeing you, you’re his favourite daughter, after all. Aren’t you? When you’re fifteen, you notice that he starts calling your aunt, and your cousin again. That voice inside you screams and you can’t ignore it like you did at twelve, at five. He’s selling them zanex, what’s the harm? He can do no wrong.  

When you’re twenty-two, he’s gone again, you see the pain now, and you know the grief he caused your family. When you’re twenty-two, you remember when he used to chase you around the house and you’d laugh for hours, you remember when you used to watch movies together and eat popcorn..you still like it just a little bit burnt because it reminds you of a home no longer inhabited. When you’re twenty-two, you remember crying in your bed because you didn’t know where he went, or why he left you, you remember reading the letters he wrote to you from prison..the secrets still hurt and you can still taste the salty tears on your lips. When you’re twenty-two, you still wish to be fifteen again because you miss going to his apartment downtown, you miss walking to the little restaurant and eating a dry italian beef with him, you miss watching football with him on Sundays even though it bored you half to death..the pain still lingers. He can do no wrong, you whisper, he can still do no wrong. And, yet, the tears you cry now whisper otherwise... 

Author's Note

Please note that this may be a bit much for those with similar experiences - you are not alone in your experiences and I hear you.

any thoughts you may have are welcome here.