Answer to Warrior Jaun who helped me during a difficult time.
Dear Juan,
Thank you for your suggestion to try to visualize all the good things my dad did for me. Sometimes it is very difficult to do so, especially when I have fits of depression.
My dad actually did not become my hero until later in life. It wasn’t until I came to have a relationship with Jesus when I was thirty that I was able to forgive him for all the horrible things he said to me.
As a child, all the way up to the age of thirty, he was emotionally abusive. For many years I hated him because all he said was negative.
He would get so mad at me, he would scream and yell at the top of his lungs. Often, I had to leave the house just to escape, slamming the door in anger as I fled.
He criticized my every thought, crushed the value of every achievement, was furious that I was not like the other kids. It seemed that for as long as I could remember, nothing I could do was good enough.
I am sure, working at a job he hated and living far from his genetic mom, dad, and brothers and sisters, he was very unhappy and lonely. Alcohol definitely compounded the problem.
I thought it was totally unfair that my two sisters escaped his wrath. It seems my unforgiveness was the catalyst that forced him to attack and belittle me. Deep in his heart he know I hated him and responded accordingly.
After I forgave him, I was able to love him for being my dad unconditionally…and him me. Our relationship totally changed for the good.
I began to understand just how unhappy he was. I had no clue about the incredible personal sacrifices he had to make to feed, clothe and educate me.
Until we talked heart to heart, I had no idea on how hard it was for him to raise a son that was so frighteningly out of the ordinary. I know he had a very hard time dealing with me during my early days.
You could say I was even odder than “Odd Thomas” in the Dean Koontz “Odd Thomas” series of fictional stories. I was quite different than any of the other kids…assaulted on every side by demons and angels.
The big closet doors in my bedroom and the drawers in my dresser opened and closed by themselves with powerful bangs. It was like the poltergeist fought a battle with the angels for my very soul.
I felt trapped by the forces of good and evil. Monsters truly lurked in my closet and under my bed. My vivid dreams and sleep-walking at night scared the living daylights out of my dad. What could he do, “Call for an exorcist?” They didn’t exactly have a listing in the Yellow Pages.
Dad definitely did not want to hear about the coming cataclysms I envisioned, the horrors I experienced in my dreams. The apocalyptic visions were too much for him.
He probably thought my mom had given birth to “son of Satan”. He could not understand that I was trapped in two dimensions, the real and spiritual world, while I was sleeping…a time traveler to the past and future as I wandered though the beginning of the earth and visualized a terrifying end of days.
It was not until we were able to talk as adults that I understood just how much I scared him, just how different I was from anyone he had ever known or imagined.
I am sure being born three months premature, when most 3 pound eight ounce babies died at birth, was a traumatic experience for him and my mom. With so much sensory stimulus…sights, sounds, smells, tastes and sensations, my brain was bombarded with too much information. I guess that because of my early arrival and accelerated mental development, my brain experienced a warped reality beyond what he or my mom had ever seen.
After 30 years of seeking answers to the bizarre behavior while growing, Dr. Michael Borkin, one of my health heroes, explained that I was in third stage adrenal exhaustion as a baby. Extreme, consistent levels of cortisol, the “fight-flight hormone” probably caused all my paranormal visions and experiences. My dad lived in unfamiliar territory for most of the early part of my life.
One day, dad admitted that I reminded him of himself (and I do look just like him.) He loved me and did not want me to screw up my life.
My choices while attending UCSD Revelle College outraged and frustrated him. Out of rebellion I experimented with drugs, smoke pot and had sex outside of marriage. This offended him at the very core of his Catholic being.
I was the antagonist as well as the protagonist. It seems we constantly switched roles in a never ending loop of hard feelings.
Dad wanted me to desperately do what he thought was right…get a steady job, get married to a nice Catholic girl, have three kids, raise them in the Catholic Church and buy a house in the suburbs. That was his generations’ dream of happiness…not mine.
Juan, I try to see him with me, now that he is gone, especially the good times we had for 29 years. I do try to keep those images inside my head and heart. I am grateful that God’s plan is that my Greatest Hero did rest and had a peaceful sleep until the moment God took him to his Heavenly Home FOREVER.
I thank you for your prayers. All the hospice nurses, counselors and helpers said they had never witnessed someone so much at peace. He never struggled or writhed during his final 6 days without food or water.
I thank God for the last 29 years that we had as a loving father and son. He never really understood why I took the untraveled path but as things turned out, I was just 10-20 years ahead of my time in searching for solutions to the mental and physical problems I battled with because of my premature birth.
I am a believer. My dad’s life with me has been a huge blessing, a gift of God. Now that his suffering is ended I am jubilant. I know in my heart and soul that he will rest until the day i join him and my mom and my other loved ones in the new home God is preparing for us.
take care,
ralph