I write what I write

CHPercolator scribbling - 21 july 2001

Said and Done

by Anita Dapperens

 

Even after all these years, a hush fell over us when he spoke.

My ears automatically shielded themselves against the intrusion of his words.  But I didn’t need to hear them to know what he was saying.  As always he would first thank my grandparents for being such good parents, for supporting him in all he did, for allowing him to grow into the man he was today.

Oh, yeah, like I’m really thankful for that.

Next was his "how to let the world know what great guy I am" phase.  Of course by this time I was already playing a medley of various songs in my head, so I won’t bore you with the details.

I looked around and could clearly see that none of the others were really listening either.  I almost had to laugh when I saw that my mother was secretly feeding the dog, between nods, and pretending to sip her wine.  She didn’t even like wine, but he, of course, insisted on it, and it was without a doubt a very high class one to impress the guests.  The "guests" in this case being my youngest brother’s new girlfriend.  But she must have had instructions from Cal, because it was clear to everyone, but my father, that she was only faking her interest.

Judging by the looks the others were changing, my father had already started his last and final round, also known as: " How to make the children squirm".  He was always so damn subtle, he knew just which buttons to push and what not to say.  But no matter how he dressed it up, every comment was another blow beneath the belt, and every word stung.

There has been a time when I felt trapped by the tyranny of my father.  When I felt so small, so powerless, and so worthless.  I could never live up to his expectations, or rather, he just never expected anything of me, he never had any faith in my abilities.  At least, that is what it felt like.  Of course I never really dared to tell him what I really thought of him, my fear of how he would react was a wall I couldn’t break through.

But a couple of years ago, after a little professional help, I finally managed to reach some sort of peace of mind, managed to not let him get to me as much, and managed to just get on with my life, MY life.

Every once in a while, on visits like this, seeing him in all his "glory", would bring back memories and pain of long ago.  But I was stronger now, and after all was said and done I could only feel pity for him.

 

The End

© 2001 Anita Dapperens - all rights reserved