I was physically, emotionally and sexually abused by my father. He made my early life a living hell. He hurt every single person who was related to him.
I used to tell his step daughter that I only wanted to know when he died so I could go spit on his grave.
But something peculiar happened. When I got the call the end was near I wanted to be there. I needed to see him one more time.
I walked into his room and instead of seeing the monster of my childhood I saw an old man, gasping for every breath who was afraid to die.
I stood at the door to his room and realized the monster was gone. He had no power over me any more. I was free. And then I walked to his bedside.
All I could see was his fear. He didn't know me. I could have been anybody. The cord for me was cut as sharply as any cut could be. I was amazed to watch myself as I took his hand - this hand that hit and beat and raped me and held it. I placed my other hand on his forehead and told him it was time to go. His mother was waiting for him. He could stop the fear and the fight and go to her.
Why? Why would I do such a thing? How could I do it? How could I even bear to touch him?
I don't know. What I know is that in that moment I saw a man more scared than I had ever been. Whatever belief he had in God was unknown to me.
I know that none of the family who were there needed to sit around and watch this man die a slow prolonged death. It needed to be over.
So I said the words that I hoped would end the fear so he could just die.
He needed to be punished for all the hurt he inflicted on people. It never happened. Out of all the people he hurt I was the only one to report him to the police and he was arrested. But a suspended sentence and a $50 fine could never pay for what he did to me.
It isn't surprising that no one wanted to get up and speak at his funeral. But we thought someone should. I volunteered. I was probably one of the most hurt by him so people were a little leery about letting me get up to speak. I promised they could read it before hand and approve or offer suggestions.
For me saying something was about offering some comfort to those who attended the funeral. It wasn't about me stating my case and offering up judgement. My final words were
may God be fair in his judgement of you
My hope is that he gets what he deserves. Whatever that is.
All this to say that when it comes down to it I have no idea how I will react when it comes to something like this. I certainly didn't expect my reaction to be what it was when I got that call that he was dying.