Looking back on my childhood

As most of you know, I was never really close to my real father until the end of his life. Growing up, I was never physically abused by him. However, my older brother and my mother were. Many a nights as a child, I would have to make the mad dash to our neighbors house. Screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to help my mother. It only took a couple of minutes for me to make that run, but, for a child in trouble, it seemed like an eternity! And each time before I took that run, my father would yell for me to stay put. Thankfully, for my mother, I was brave enough go for help. And looking back on it now, what seemed like an eternity for me, must have been pure hell for my mother, as she was the one being beaten and choked.

In those days, the police did not get involved with domestic problems. And when looking back, I think that for the most part, many believed that the woman must have deserved the beating. Thank God for our neighbor, he would come running and could talk my dad into stopping. What did my mom really do to deserve those beatings?? She worked (when he told her not to) while he was off truck driving. If he came home early and found her working he would make her pay. She did what she had to do to put food on our table and clothes on our backs. Back then, we had an angel, by the name of Kitty, helping our family. Kitty was the manager of the truck stop and she would allow my mother to work in the restaurant when my father was driving and be off when he was home.

To make a long story short, my mother, who had every right to hate my father told me to take care of him because he had lived a life of hatred and had already paid for what he did. As she lay dying, I knew that if she could forgive him, then I too could be that kind of person. You see, she knew that cancer was taking over him and that he would need someone to care for him.