Melissa's story for discussion on 12/3

I am haunted by a man and my memories of him. Although it’s not there every single time I close my eyes, it’s often enough to interfere with my thoughts and emotions. I even hate admitting that he had a role in shaping me, but he did.
My earliest memories of my dad are the best ones. He was a large and teddy bear like man who everyone seemed to love and wanted to be around. He would take me to work with him to show me off because he said he was so proud of me. I remember that he always had a joke for me, and I always laughed, no matter how corny it was. He could make the strangest and most pointless things funny, too—like the time he found a hand puppet of a beaver and he created this character. He seemed to put his heart and soul into the beaver we named Dil, and Dil became part of my family.
He was one of the goofiest people I ever knew. Dil was only one part of my dad’s goofiness. He would try funny voices or imitate actors and characters…or do anything to make my family laugh. He’d dress up for Halloween and take me trick-or-treating when I was little. He wouldn’t go as anything specific, but he’d put on a silly hat and wear makeup and be a big kid.
By the time I was 6 years old, I had a new baby brother. The laughing started to fade away from my father. His childish antics were replaced by what I can now recall being pity and loathing of his home life. Although it was more likely the financial troubles of having to now raise two kids, my dad in a short time changed dramatically. He wanted nothing to do with me; instead focusing on just my brother. One day my dad, my brother, and I were going for a walk when he pulled me aside and told me that I was the reason for all of his fights, his worries, his sadness. He didn’t try to put it nicely or in any way soften the blow. It was a dagger struck right into me. He put it bluntly that I was the source of all his trouble; and that there would be a divorce. I was only a child; seeing the face of someone that used to smile and act happy and childlike mutate into some vengeful person that despised me. Maybe it was easier to pin his own troubles on someone else instead of being a man and taking responsibility. I was so hurt and confused by what he said that I sank to my knees and started crying. Later on my mother assured me that nothing was my fault. Who was I to believe? I felt alone and scared about what might happen. I remember that day as being when my relationship with my father was shattered.
After that day, I noticed that the laughter stopped. He no longer had jokes for me when he came home from work. He didn’t go out of his way to make me laugh. He didn’t want to take me out for Halloween. He was doing most of that with my little brother instead. He would play games with Adam and joke around with him only.
As time went on, I became angrier at him. I would come home from school and be ignored by him. This only got worse when my brother had to be hospitalized. My brother was born with psychiatric problems and those problems came to a head causing him to be hospitalized for over a year. During that year, the tension between me and my father only got worse. One afternoon, when my mom was at work, my dad asked me if I missed my brother. All I could say, because I didn’t want to speak to him, was that it was too quiet without Adam. That wasn’t what my dad wanted to hear because he became angry and swore at me, and even slapped me. I remember yelling that I hated him…and he yelled back that he hated me.
After that day, I considered our relationship to be over. I was a teenager and could understand what hate was, and I knew that’s how I felt towards him. I spent the next few years avoiding any kind of confrontation with him. It stayed that way until my mother finally decided to divorce him. The news of my parents divorce was the happiest news of my life. I no longer would have to be careful and sensor myself in my own home.
Today, I look back at the years of pain, anger, and hate and realize that I wasted so much of my energy on a man who didn’t care about me. I now know in my head and my heart that he did not ever care about me, but only wanted to appear to be a good father. Appearances were what mattered, not having the feelings to back them up.
I try to distance myself from the man who haunts my past. I know that I look like him, and try not to see that face when I look in the mirror. I don’t want to see the reflection of a man that lost his smile; that pinned his problems onto others and would rather run from situations that face them. Every day I use that disdain, that hatred and cowardice to make me a stronger person. History repeats itself if you don’t learn from it; and I made a vow to be better than that.