The Hero, The Villain, My Dad

Since November of 1979, my life has been in an undiagnosed and untreated mess.

Unbeknownst to me, depression started in and went unattended until maybe ten years ago. I remember every detail of the day he died. November 1, 1979, All Saints Day in the Catholic faith. Having relived this moment just a week ago in therapy kind of stirred up the few memories I have of him. Part of dealing with my depression is dealing with the fact that I only have a few positive memories of my Hero.

He was tall and had a great laugh. I thought he could sing but my one auntie said I didn’t know any better. He drank Budweiser beer and chewed on toothpicks. I didn’t acquire a taste for beer, especially after my sister poured it up my nose, she will get her own blog (evil menace). Daddy loved Star Trek and baseball. All of his nieces and nephews loved him. He was the only uncle, he was the only brother with nine sisters, he was the only man in my life; then he was gone.

I was 11, lost, confused had so many questions, missed him so much, and didn’t like my mother. It was a lot, that much I am sure of. All of the things that happen in those pivotal years and I was floundering badly. There was no one for me to talk to. I couldn’t talk to my mother, she was emotionally unavailable. I had cousins, ok I had two that kind of checked on me, took me to the cemetery, and spent time with my sister and me but it wasn’t the same. There was never the question that may have changed the trajectory of my life; How are you? No one asked. NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON. No matter we must keep going right? We must continue on the journey of life; no matter how hard. As I grew and went on with my life, it was always an endless thought of what would life be like if he were here. He wasn’t and I had to figure this out. Not sure that ever really happened. He was the one; the one that I knew loved me. I couldn’t prove it but no matter…I had to believe it.

Just like the belief in a higher power that we can’t see, I had to believe that loved me. My mother never said she did so I had to believe that one of my parents did, so I gave that to him. Each year I tried to celebrate his birthday even if it was to remember what I thought I knew. There was no real discussion about him in our home; ever and I began to notice it wasn’t really a welcome conversation to have with my mother so I let it go. He was my one true love, my all and all as men were concerned. I dated, married divorced, married again, divorced, and again and again. He was always there. He was my hero.

It wasn’t until a few years ago, in a conversation with my mom and sister did that my idea of him be given reason to change; it was devastating. My mother shared that Daddy had a girlfriend.

What, what? How???

The story went that she found out that my dad had given some woman a tv. Even as an adult that was a lot to take in, what made it worse was that she stopped talking about it and then, changed the subject.

Bombshell for sure.

I was told by my mother that instead of focusing on who was not here I should focus on who was here and not who was gone. Gee Whiz! That was harsh. Seems ironic that a woman who never talks about her feelings or ask me about mine is now telling me how to grieve. The Audacity!

My hero was now a villain and as the story goes someone is always a villain in someone else’s story.

I felt so let down, so mislead, and certainly taken aback. Needless to say, my core was rocked. There are a lot of things about this chapter in my life that has still caused so many issues still today. Despite that, he was/IS still my daddy, my hero. As I prepare to celebrate his 75th birthday on Saturday April 28th, I write this post for several reasons.

I still love and miss my daddy something awful. Losing him at 11 was harder on me than I ever realized. Sometimes there are things that happen with our parents that they never deal with and therefore you never know the whole story and that has its effects on the children, no matter what they say.

I realize that my father was not a perfect person, alas he was a man. No matter what he did as a husband, he was still my father and for the 11 years I had him, he was alright with me. I rest on that principal. He was alright with me and I love him for the love that I believe he embodied within me.

Happy Birthday to Aaron Joseph Brewer.