Sunday, August 13, 2006
Before shabbos I noticed a yahrzeit candle atop our kitchen ledge. "Who's that for?" I asked. "Your stepfather," Yaakov answered. "Why would I light a candle for him?" I retorted.
I was surprised at how vehement my response was. I didn't realize I still carried around so much anger.
There are so many times I've tried to have peace and closure - times I've screwed up as a parent and said; "Ok, I can relate to you, we're both human and have both made mistakes." I've been to the cemetary and tried to talk things over with you. I even bought a book to help me. It's been 17 years, and I still feel disgust over you. Disgust and contempt.
I hate the vile immodesty you brought into our lives. I hate how you would give everybody in the house the "silent treatment" for days. How you would lord your anger over all of us. I hate how you would yell and be sarcastic. I hate the fact that you were mean to me when I didn't understand things. I hate that you thought it was okay to tell a 6 year old basically everything. I hate the parts of you that have become parts of me. I was relieved when you died, I finally felt free of your tyranny.
But I see now I'm not really free at all.