As several of you guys already know, I've had some up's and down's with my father, who is an alcoholic. When we were kids, he ruled the home through the use of fear. But he worked extremely hard (construction) in order to keep the bills paid and food on our table and for that, I always respected him and was willing to overlook his alcoholism.
When I was in Iraq during my first tour in 2005, him and my mom finally seperated. My sister and brother cut off ties with Dad out of anger and I maintained a relationship because he has literally no one else in his life, as he drives people away from him all the time with his alcoholism. He is 67 years old now.
My brother, who serves in the Navy has not been home in about two years. I finally found a window where he can come visit me out here. He had recently (on my recommendation) re-built a friendly relationship with Dad. I bought Dad a plane ticket to come here to DC on the same day. Being that this was a rare occurrence to have us together like this, I purchased tickets for the Nats-Mets afternoon game. I got Diamond Club seats for $125 a piece and also brought my 3-year old son with us. The game was great- we had a good time. At around the 7th inning, my Dad's joy quickly turned to misery. The beer was starting to affect him (as I have seen a million times) and everything was such a big deal. Despite having three or four full cups of beer at his feet, he kept ordering more everytime the beer guy walked by. When they stopped serving because it was the 7th inning or whatever, he made a scene about it. Being that I was driving, I did not drink and I told him to relax and enjoy the game. With 1 out in the 9th inning, I stood up and told everyone "lets head out." There had been a 2 hour rain delay and my son had been telling me for about an inning that he was ready to go home. My brother got up and we started walking out. My dad refuses to get up. I ask him "what is wrong" and he finally follows us out with his old, miserable puss on his face. We are in the parking lot when he tells me "I cant believe we are leaving a fuckin baseball game early." I said "Dad, its the 9th inning, this game is over, it's not even close." He turns to me, as I am carrying my son and says "you dont leave fuckin baseball games early!" I stayed quiet during our walk to the car, but inside I was livid. I put my son in his car-seat and we get in the car. I turn to look at my Dad and he is absolutely wasted drunk. I said to him "gee Dad, it's a shame that this entire day was ruined all because we left in the 9th inning." He replies with "yeah thanks for ruining the day."
30 years of built-up aggression came flying out of me. I screamed like never before. Keep in mind that I was driving and Dad was sitting in the back seat next to my son. My brother was sitting in the front passenger seat next to me. Over the course of the next 30 minutes, my Dad and I traded insults that included him telling me the following:
- I'm a shit son and a shit father.
- My military accolades are a farce and I've never done shit for my country (3x combat deployments, Purple Heart and a Silver Star).
- I don't know what real pain is.
- I used get checked out for "PSDD or whatever the fuck it is that you pussies call it nowadays."....he meant PTSD.
- I should "watch my back." I asked him if he was threatening me and he just smirked with that drunken mans look I had seen a million times before. I then told him if he ever got in the way of me or my family, I would "end his life."
At some points, I was screaming so hard at him that I noticed my vehicle was swerving from one lane into another as we drove on the highway. My father dodged the Vietnam War by pretending he was mentally ill. He screamed in the car that he did that for his family, despite the fact he was not even married at the time, nor did he have any kids. I responded to all of his personal attacks by telling him he is a drunk, a loser, always has been a miserable father, etc. I then told him when we got home, I was getting online to change his return flight to tonight (he was originally suppossed to stay till Wednesday). He responded by pulling his cell phone out, and throwing it out the window on to the DC Beltway. When we finally got home, he stormed out of the car, and went straight downstairs in our townhome. I waited a few minutes for him while my wife stood there silent, knowing full-well that something very bad had just happened at the game. When I went downstairs to get Dad, I saw that he was gone. He had gone out the back door, and out through the fence in the backyard. I do not know where he went.
My brother stayed silent in the car for the first 10 minutes of our fight. After my Dad told me that I'm just a box who does not what real pain in, my brother also began screaming at him. My dad then claimed that I flew him to my house so that I and my brother could gang up on him.
My Dad is old, drunk, and does not know where in the world he is. He left my house at about 8pm last night and walked off in the darkness without a phone. I guess he could have flagged down a cab and gone to the airport but I am not certain that is what he did. I drove around for an hour looking for him, but no luck. This morning, I do feel terrible that his happened but at the same time, I am still furious about the thing she said to me. Not sure what to do or if he found a way to make it back to Boston. Just an awful weekend. The worst part of entire thing was that my son witnessed this entire thing. As I took him out of his car-seat, he looked at me and said "how come you were yelling at Grandpa daddy?" I immediately choked back tears. That is my vent- thanks for reading.
Hot Forum Topics
