Hey all, . Got my boy Robbie I know is a good dad. Probably glued to the Tele cause Brazil just scored. . Family equals recovery. It also gives insight into our fears and misgivings.
I was wanting to share a little about my dad.
First straight up MY DAD. He was not my biological dad. He fell in love with my mom when he was twelve. . My mom's biological dad who she never spoke two words to lived right around the corner from them. My gram married the guy at 15 when she had my mom.
Well, unfortunately he was a bit abusive.. So my mom's Pop was her father figure, hero, life, world. The only thing ever really, really came up about my mom's bio was his beauty. . I do never like to brag, but to this day my mom is gorgeous. Natural beauty. That dad thing meant as I was taught: "Doesn't mean a thing a man has the title dad. It's the person that raises you. Lays up all night when you have a fever, attends all your school activities, and for me chases a teenager all around like a Detective cecause he CARES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!".
So my dad saw her. My day was a man of very, very few words. He was a private person who never raised his voice. He saw her at the rec center as he told us. He said she was sitting on the lap of someone named "Pretty Boy" and together they played the piano. Looked at my mom, and for the rest of his life KNEW that was his one and only. He wished he could play a piano. Told us he was struck. Caught my mom's eye, and she tossed her head back and ignored him. LOL
My mom would not date my dad. One day he knocks at her door, and my greatgrandmom called to her"Come, and see one of the ------
boys is here for you". It was my dad, and he without a word pulled up his sleave, and proudly showed my mom her very beautiful French name inked on his arm for eternity with a heart, and such". To this my mom replied "That's just boujois (sp) you think a ratty tattoo would impress me? It's very low class"
Time passed, and my dad went to Korea. He was 17. Quit school and either lied or his mom signed something so he could go. Meanwhile my mom married the man to become my biological father. Life went on. Turned out my biological dad was an alcoholic, and my mom takes no crap from nobody. One night and I was still an infant he came in drunk, and picked me up. He said he was taking me for a car ride. As my Gram put it "You know your mom with her target practice"We left. Left everything behind. Everything, and lived with Gram's and Pop's.
About five months later my mom got a call. It was my dad he'd been home from Korea. She'd heard she said. Heard he was having a good old time with like ten different women. He replied of course I am, but ---- it's you, and I want to marry you" So. my mom said "I have Brynn, and need to be careful. It's not just me to worry for. I have my child to worry for". They agreed on a date. Had three, and divorce came through and my parents married.
My dad. My most very real dad raised me. I was no different than my brothers. In fact maybe more spoiled as the only girl. I mean this was my daddy. He was a highway cop, and then a detective.*My mom would only marry a family man**
I kid not. Us kids were my dad's world. Not a Saturday or Sunday went by when he'd got on shift work that we were not somewhere for a ride. Historic places. Seashore. Just even a drive. Never missed a sporting event we were in or academic stuff.
My dad went without so I could have the best prom dresses. Went without so my brother could go to Ivy League school. Went without when I swore I needed that fur coat. Took me to dentists, doctors, friends houses, He'd stay up at night with me if I was sick. Would hold me upside down when I got horrific nose bleeds, and make it clot. Took me to get it packed, and the poor man. I was no happy camper. When I was 17 and I got operated on and had my ovary out. My parents of course were there at 6:00AM with me to wait. When I finally opened my eyes it was dark, It was 8:00PM, and who was sitting next to me watching me sleep? MY DAD.
Better yet my dad was an excellent grandpop. Not ONCE did my parents say no they could not babysit.Even if they had a plan to go to Atlantic City and my brother he'd call he needed them to watch the baby.
Not a problem. Off they'd go to Wildwood for baby amusement rides or Dutch Wonderland or as the kids grew minature golf, trups up to NYC. You name it.
Then last but not least this is when Dad's Day gets me. My daughter. My dad took me to the hospital in labor because my husband was out with his mom. Two weeks late I was and having pains yet he decided to go to eat with his mom. I was in there over twenty-four hours. Who kept popping in? My dad. Not my mom as she was puking worrying about my pain.
. As my ex husband snoozed my dad would come in, and bring me National Enquirer, and wince at all the tubes, and wires. The worry covering his usually stoic face. Alllllllllll along my dad said "That's gonna be a girl", and everyone else in the world said "That's a boy. "
Nope it's a girl. I have three wonderful nephews, and he was so happy with them, and took them everywhere him, and my mom. Coaches, strollers, diapers, playpens. No problem. He was getting a bit older, and not retired yet, but he'd stop his own plans to take the kids.
A QUEEN IS BORN. Finally after 26 hours they did a C-Section, and sure as all heck there she was. The nurse was kind enough to tell my parents to hurry, get a gown, and head on in. That was IT. Over for everyone else including my mom. We were pushed aside, and his one, and only was born. They were inseperable, and I got divorced so I lived with my P's. There was nothing my dad would not do for this kid. We could have been laying on the floor needing an ambulance, and my dad still would go over to that playpen first, and talk to his girl. . ANY toy she wanted. It was hers. She sat on a swing the wrong way he'd yell at me, and stop what he was doing, and turn her around the proper way to swing. EVERY SINGLE DAY my dad drove her to school after he retired. Picked her up for lunch then brought her back and then picked her up at the end of the day, and my mom friends would rave and say "She runs to his arms, and he swings her around, and God how i wished my husband would be like that".
Moral of this very long thread. By genetics I was not my dad's biological child. I was very young when they married, and I knew no difference. Thus my daughter was not his blood grandchild, and when it came to her if it was a line up my nephews had to wait a bit. . Not that the boys were not loved, and spoiled but my daughter was like ya'd think she was a royalty came down from heaven.
NOW like Jack is the guilt. . My dad being a cop believed all junkies were crap. They might as well die. He was so ashamed of me when he found out. He also locked me in my room and threw me in a bucket so I could kick, and not get loose to run off. No bathroom needed. Bucket has to do. . Now looking back he knew his stuff. He was a cop. I saw the look of disgust on his face as he looked at me. The shame, and the words which still haunt me even in sleep"
YOU ARE A MOTHER!! YOU HAVE A CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW DARE YOU DO THAT S*I*?? SNAP OUT OF IT NOW!!
YOU ARE A POOR EXCUSE OF A MOM, AND THIS LITTLE GIRL IS NOT STUPID!! SHE KNOWS SOMETHING IS WRONG!!
So, like Jack I feel ashamed and angry at me. My dad died a few years ago on CHRISTMAS MORNING!!!!!!!!! Putting decals on the Barbie Plane. Had every gift ready for my daughter. Searched for books she wanted and were hard to get.
He died IN FRONT OF US!! The EMT's laid him on the floor and even they had tears. It was too much looking at all the toys as they paddled him. We heard the death rattle. I had took her upstairs, and my mom stayed with my dad. I was in a body cast thing as I had been in an accident two weeks prior. My dad would carry me to the bathroom. He took me to the appointments far into town. He hoisted me into wheelchairs, and sat and waited in orthopedic surgeons offices. Meanwhile his own sugar was 480 I guess from stress, and not eating, Insulin, and all his sugar was that high. Not ONCE did my dad complain.
So, that's my daddy homage, and I KNOW he died still angry in his own way that his daughter was a no good lousy piece of s*it junkie just like the prostitutes he arrested. The dope fiends who never, ever get well. Why are my brothers so good? I let everyone down but I feel most guilty letting my dad down. He had seen it enough on the streets and how it works. His daughter was a junkie. A filthy, thieving, liar of a junkie. I hope up there he knows I am trying.
***Oh, and the tattoo with my mom's name on my dad's arm. The one he got as a kid, and she rebuffed him. Got it covered in Japan with a skull, and cross bones. So as kids we'd ask about all his ink, and he'd point to that scarry ugly one, and say "Here's your mother, grandmother". LOL I miss my daddy. **** Another cool thing we found after he died. God forbid anyone touched his STUFF I guess cause a firearm was in the drawer. Well in that drawer we found medals from Korea as he was in the First Calvary, and they go in first, and my dad was wounded badly. Got sewn up, and two weeks in a military hospital and he went right back out there. Yep, medals for exceptional heroic efforts in the DMZ I think it's called.
Also found certificates, photograpsh, and awards from his job.. To him it was no big deal. It was his job.
Thanks for letting me write all that. Jack inspired it. Difference being my ancestors were german and they picked up English in a day. LOL Takes the Italians a little longer. JUST KIDDING, Jack. By the way do you know how to make calamari'galamade? How's about that Easter bread? Calzone?
Oh, and my very, very favorite the Wedding Soup. Escarole. This is all a hint.
Hahahaha. All my Italian neighbors feed me cause they know I love it. I am such a schmoozer. LOL Happy father's day guys.
Thanks for sharing Bryn
Sometimes on this board , I get things off my chest that otherwise would just go by my thought process without me giving it a second thought
It was good to talk about my dad and hear about yours. How they dealt with us ,how they fought thier own pasts and demons. Interesting.
Have a good day- I m off to the ratrace- starting off with about a 1/2hr of Monday morning northern nj traffic.
respect&love
jack
Sometimes on this board , I get things off my chest that otherwise would just go by my thought process without me giving it a second thought
It was good to talk about my dad and hear about yours. How they dealt with us ,how they fought thier own pasts and demons. Interesting.
Have a good day- I m off to the ratrace- starting off with about a 1/2hr of Monday morning northern nj traffic.
respect&love
jack
I'm sorry Bryn that's a sad story, seemed like your dad loved you very much and you love your parents very much. What a romantic story between your parents, man he loved your mom something fierce!
My dad is an a******, I hope he gets flesh eating virus... no no, he has a son beside my sister and I, a son i have onlt had the pleasure of meeting once when he was an infant... he probably doesn't even know that he has two adult sisters. My dad was my grandfather. He and my grandmother raised my sister and I because my parents were f***ing junkie losers. My mom is straight now, way pissed at me because of the vic thing. Ah well, I was a junkie loser once too. My grandfather was always wonderful to my sister and I... as I got older I tended to act more and more like my mother, he tended not to like me more and more like he didn't like my mother. When I Overdosed back in 04 things changed... in the hospital I was half dead and almost dies of double pnuemonia, it brought my family together somewhat, my relationship with my grandparents improved the longer I stayed clean... then to f*** up again, my relationship with them was great for a while, then they became afraid of losing me again, they almost did twice... now everyone in my fam sticks together, it's cool. My grandfather was always such a hardworking guy, always doing for other people and trying to make my grandmother happy. He is so sick now and I'm 3000 miles away from him, afraid I'm gonna lose him without being able to say goodbye. If it weren't for he and my grandmother my sister and I would have ended up in foster care. They are great people. Oh yeah did I mention my father is a worthless a****** not worthy of a maggot den?? If I were talking to Star Wars geeks I would call him "HuttSlime" wow that was dorky, don't tell anyone I said that.
My dad is an a******, I hope he gets flesh eating virus... no no, he has a son beside my sister and I, a son i have onlt had the pleasure of meeting once when he was an infant... he probably doesn't even know that he has two adult sisters. My dad was my grandfather. He and my grandmother raised my sister and I because my parents were f***ing junkie losers. My mom is straight now, way pissed at me because of the vic thing. Ah well, I was a junkie loser once too. My grandfather was always wonderful to my sister and I... as I got older I tended to act more and more like my mother, he tended not to like me more and more like he didn't like my mother. When I Overdosed back in 04 things changed... in the hospital I was half dead and almost dies of double pnuemonia, it brought my family together somewhat, my relationship with my grandparents improved the longer I stayed clean... then to f*** up again, my relationship with them was great for a while, then they became afraid of losing me again, they almost did twice... now everyone in my fam sticks together, it's cool. My grandfather was always such a hardworking guy, always doing for other people and trying to make my grandmother happy. He is so sick now and I'm 3000 miles away from him, afraid I'm gonna lose him without being able to say goodbye. If it weren't for he and my grandmother my sister and I would have ended up in foster care. They are great people. Oh yeah did I mention my father is a worthless a****** not worthy of a maggot den?? If I were talking to Star Wars geeks I would call him "HuttSlime" wow that was dorky, don't tell anyone I said that.
Bryn and tropper Thanks 4 sharing the stories about your fathers. I could not bring myself to speak of my Dad on Father's Day. My Dad was a terrible Father but, I dont blame him for being that way he never knew better. He came from a weird household himself. His Mother was in mental hospitals off and on, She died b4 I was born. He lived in several foster homes. His Father drown himself in the Licking River when my Dad was 8 or so. My Dad at 19 got my Mother pregnant with my older brother when she was 15! I came along when she was 19. They married my Dad joined the Marines during the Vietman War. He Drank heavily and smoked Pot, did pills. He was a sharp shooter and radio opperator. They divorced when I was 6, mom remarried and was pregnant with my baby brother when I was 7. My mother was a addict too. She did not stop drinking doing pills till I was 10 or so I remember her being in rehab and taking me to A.A meetings when she had no babysitter. She has been clean somewhere around 18 - 19 years. My Dad would see my brother and I off and on thru our lives. YEARS would pass as I grew up that I never heard from him at All. He is menatlly unstable and still a heavy drinker. When I was younger I thought he was wonderful. The times he did come around he would do fun stuff with my brother and I. We went rafting, fishing, skating, exc. Then he would be gone as quick as he came. He told me "as a adult" he blamed my Mother for my heroin addiction lol. Currently he calls me "i have not seen him in person in 4 years or so". He was not around when my Brothers 1st child was born: the day he became a grand dad. He did not see my kids till they were 4 and 2. His grandchildren DO NOT KNOW who he is. He seems to want to have contact I gave up on him when I 12 or so. He is homeless living in A Damn tent near downtown. My step Father was much more of a Father to me then my real Dad. He was there with me from age 7-18. My step Father was a poor provider thou we lived in slums and s*** parts of town. He cheated on my Mother with other women. He overdosed when I was 18 and my lil brother his son was 11. My family puts the FUNK in disfunctional. No wonder I turned out so perfect!
know were spot on jack about stuff written on here that would otherwise get lost in the jumble we have for brains.DADS dont wanna even mention mine nuff said,but thank god im 1,just a small thing gave my 7yr old&her wee mate some money 4 the icecream man&just the laughs&speed there little legs could get to the icecream was great 2 see [clean that is].there goes the neighbourhood they are back giggling &covered in the stuff.take care all davey
Hi all, when I read your stories, so sad, about your daddies, I know I'm blessed. My parents are still together, they got married when they were both 21, I think, and they are now 63, and one thing I never had any doubt about was that my family was 100% rock solid. I think it would be easier to believe that a cow had jumped over the moon than think for one second that my parents might split up. Of course they had rows, but even their rows were normally because my dad was working too hard, trying to provide for us lot. I remember him working three jobs when I was a kid. And he went to night school. And he did good.
He is a very talented engineer, and he dreamed of setting up his own company, but he held off, not prepared to run the risk, until he'd seen me through my education (I am his youngest child, and the only one of us 3 sisters who went off to university). Then he did it, and like almost everything else he did, he made a success of it. He too, like so many of your stories, came to this country (UK) aged 18, with absolutely nothing. He arrived from South Africa, where my Oupa (grandfather) was the leader of the only multi-racial trade union in South Africa, and the lives of him and his family were under threat by the constant attentions of the South African security forces, as the union was declared illegal under Apartheid. Much of this I only found out at Oupa's funeral, as he was a quiet and dignified man, who never saw fit to mention his equal rights work, or that he knew both Mahatma Gandhi, and Nelson Mandela personally, or anything else to blow his own trumpet.
And my dad, I was, and always will be, his little girl. He used to take me to work with him sometimes, if I was off school, and there was nobody else to look after me. Weekends, he would take me out on the boat. There is nothing he wouldn't do for me, if I needed it. He has bailed me out more times than I care to remember. He has never judged me. He stopped the bank from repossessing my house when I was in rehab. I can't count the nimber of times he has rescued me. He drove 400 miles round trip to come and get me when my house was robbed. Just dropped everything and got in the car, because I was crying down the phone.
Now my folks are back in South Africa, and I am so happy for them. I'm clean now, and I'm happy. I've found that life does reward you, good things do start happening to you, when you stop fighting the universe. I was such a stubborn bi-atch, and guess I still am in some ways, and I found every way I could of abusing myself. I lived a self-fulfilling prophecy, and would cut off my own nose to spite my face, just to tell the world to F-off. I don't know how healed I really am, but I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was a few years ago, and I feel like I've delved into the unknown, and now I have knowledge. Been to Hell and back, if you like, just coz I had to keep pushing those boundaries. That's why I'm grateful for my addiction, coz one thing heroin taught me loud and clear, was exactly where my limits are. I now know myself inside out. I don't have any illusions about who I am, how low I will sink, and I found the place where I drew the line. It's like looking down a well so deep you don't know where it ends, so I had to crawl down it, just to find out. And now I know.
I'd love to make my old man proud of me. He knows that I've got a wild side (LOL), and I had to play the hand I was dealt. But I think I'll find my own ways of making him proud. And it will be individual, just like everything else. A good job, a flash car and a big house don't mean F all to me. But I feel like I've still got a lifetime to play in, and I'll find my niche, and I'll come good in the end.
OK, that's enough babbling for one day.
love
Diff xxx
He is a very talented engineer, and he dreamed of setting up his own company, but he held off, not prepared to run the risk, until he'd seen me through my education (I am his youngest child, and the only one of us 3 sisters who went off to university). Then he did it, and like almost everything else he did, he made a success of it. He too, like so many of your stories, came to this country (UK) aged 18, with absolutely nothing. He arrived from South Africa, where my Oupa (grandfather) was the leader of the only multi-racial trade union in South Africa, and the lives of him and his family were under threat by the constant attentions of the South African security forces, as the union was declared illegal under Apartheid. Much of this I only found out at Oupa's funeral, as he was a quiet and dignified man, who never saw fit to mention his equal rights work, or that he knew both Mahatma Gandhi, and Nelson Mandela personally, or anything else to blow his own trumpet.
And my dad, I was, and always will be, his little girl. He used to take me to work with him sometimes, if I was off school, and there was nobody else to look after me. Weekends, he would take me out on the boat. There is nothing he wouldn't do for me, if I needed it. He has bailed me out more times than I care to remember. He has never judged me. He stopped the bank from repossessing my house when I was in rehab. I can't count the nimber of times he has rescued me. He drove 400 miles round trip to come and get me when my house was robbed. Just dropped everything and got in the car, because I was crying down the phone.
Now my folks are back in South Africa, and I am so happy for them. I'm clean now, and I'm happy. I've found that life does reward you, good things do start happening to you, when you stop fighting the universe. I was such a stubborn bi-atch, and guess I still am in some ways, and I found every way I could of abusing myself. I lived a self-fulfilling prophecy, and would cut off my own nose to spite my face, just to tell the world to F-off. I don't know how healed I really am, but I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was a few years ago, and I feel like I've delved into the unknown, and now I have knowledge. Been to Hell and back, if you like, just coz I had to keep pushing those boundaries. That's why I'm grateful for my addiction, coz one thing heroin taught me loud and clear, was exactly where my limits are. I now know myself inside out. I don't have any illusions about who I am, how low I will sink, and I found the place where I drew the line. It's like looking down a well so deep you don't know where it ends, so I had to crawl down it, just to find out. And now I know.
I'd love to make my old man proud of me. He knows that I've got a wild side (LOL), and I had to play the hand I was dealt. But I think I'll find my own ways of making him proud. And it will be individual, just like everything else. A good job, a flash car and a big house don't mean F all to me. But I feel like I've still got a lifetime to play in, and I'll find my niche, and I'll come good in the end.
OK, that's enough babbling for one day.
love
Diff xxx
Dearest Bryn:
Wow what a fantastic dad you had,you know sweetheart anyone can be a breeder of babies,but it takes something special to be a father to a child.You don't have to be the real dad,all you need is love in your heart for a child and everything will follow.He was an amazing person,your post made me cry,cause my mom was the same way,except she was my real mom,Christos(the man who gave his sperm,so-called dad)I don't call him dad cause he feels more like a passerby,was never there,use to beat my mom,never bought us anything,neverless groceries.We brought my mom to a lawyer when I was about 9yrs old and my bro 13yrs old,and they divorced soon after.As the yrs went by and I became a junkie,one day my mom called him up to go pick her up so she could come looking for me,since I was gone for 2wks and I was only 14yrs old.So she bribed some junkies with 20$ and found out where I was,well she asked my dad since he was the "MAN" to go in the shooting/selling gallery,well he said are you crazy I can get killed in there.Well my mom didn't even think twice,off she went,into the building,knocked on the door,when the door opened two guns went to her head,she pushed them away and said don't bother me(in her little english way since she only spoke greek)and said I'm here for my daughter and I ain't leaving without her.Well she said it and she did it,I was so far gone that day that when I finally de-nodded after almost 2 days I couldn't figure out where I was.So you see my mom had more balls than my so called dad.
When I hear stories of wonderful dads like yours it brings a gush of tears to my eyes cause I missed that and still do in my life.Well he has only seen my two girls once since their born,when my oldest girl Loula was 1and a half yrs old and my second girl Vasiliki was a couple of monthes old,he hasen't seen my third boy Dimitri yet.To him once a junkie always a junkie meaning that I will always use drugs no matter what I or the doctors say.Meanwhile he's a hipocrit (spelling?) cause he's a compulsive gambler to this day.I guess some people will never change.
Thanks everyone for letting me let it out,it's been bugging me for a while,and it feels great to talk to you guy's and gals about it.Thanks a million.
To everyone here please if a friend is what you need,please consider me as one......Always a friend.....
TEENA
Wow what a fantastic dad you had,you know sweetheart anyone can be a breeder of babies,but it takes something special to be a father to a child.You don't have to be the real dad,all you need is love in your heart for a child and everything will follow.He was an amazing person,your post made me cry,cause my mom was the same way,except she was my real mom,Christos(the man who gave his sperm,so-called dad)I don't call him dad cause he feels more like a passerby,was never there,use to beat my mom,never bought us anything,neverless groceries.We brought my mom to a lawyer when I was about 9yrs old and my bro 13yrs old,and they divorced soon after.As the yrs went by and I became a junkie,one day my mom called him up to go pick her up so she could come looking for me,since I was gone for 2wks and I was only 14yrs old.So she bribed some junkies with 20$ and found out where I was,well she asked my dad since he was the "MAN" to go in the shooting/selling gallery,well he said are you crazy I can get killed in there.Well my mom didn't even think twice,off she went,into the building,knocked on the door,when the door opened two guns went to her head,she pushed them away and said don't bother me(in her little english way since she only spoke greek)and said I'm here for my daughter and I ain't leaving without her.Well she said it and she did it,I was so far gone that day that when I finally de-nodded after almost 2 days I couldn't figure out where I was.So you see my mom had more balls than my so called dad.
When I hear stories of wonderful dads like yours it brings a gush of tears to my eyes cause I missed that and still do in my life.Well he has only seen my two girls once since their born,when my oldest girl Loula was 1and a half yrs old and my second girl Vasiliki was a couple of monthes old,he hasen't seen my third boy Dimitri yet.To him once a junkie always a junkie meaning that I will always use drugs no matter what I or the doctors say.Meanwhile he's a hipocrit (spelling?) cause he's a compulsive gambler to this day.I guess some people will never change.
Thanks everyone for letting me let it out,it's been bugging me for a while,and it feels great to talk to you guy's and gals about it.Thanks a million.
To everyone here please if a friend is what you need,please consider me as one......Always a friend.....
TEENA
