This of course was the saddest day of my life. Thinking back on the kind of person he was. He was strict. He was an X-Golden Gloves Boxing Champion turn Drug addict and had the potential to become something in life. Something more than what he was. My father was a bright, intelligent, and gifted man. All that changed when he turned to the dark side of the family. When I mentioned that we were dirt poor. This was around the time my father sold everything so he can purchase his drugs. I never understood why my mother stayed with him even after all the beatings he gave her.
Why is it that a man hits a woman and the woman stays there with that guy like an idiot? How many beatings does a woman need to get in order to get the point that she IS NOT a punching bag. I guess that's why we received so many beatings from him and her. I only saw my father hit my mom once. I hit my father. I can't remember my age but I do remember we were at my Grandmothers house. He hit her and I hit him and thus he chased me. He didn't catch me but I remember being so afraid of this man. Afraid of what he will do to me. I was fast. He wasn't about to catch me and he didn't. He left when he heard the police cars coming. Remember my father was in and out of jail in and out of prison.
I knew he hit her though. I can tell by the sunglasses and the marks on her face. Still I loved that man so much that I would have stepped in front of a bullet for him. I would have killed on command if he asked me to. I remember one time I was walking down mission street with my brother. My father was homeless on the street of course, I ran into him. He was yelling at this guy. I wasn't sure why but he told my brother to hit him. My brother who is retarded if you recall didn't, only questioned the guy. My father turned to me and told me to hit him. I did. I punched the guy in the face and watched him fall and then started to kick him in his face. Blood was everywhere. I didn't stop till my father told me to stop. Then I told my dad I have to go. Both my brother and I went on our way.
When my father said something, I listened. If he told me to get a gun and shoot someone I would have just because he told me to. That's the kind of power this man had over me. Was he a father to me? No. Because no father would raise his child with that kind of violence in his heart. I found out from my Grandfather on his side of the family that my dad killed someone when he was younger. My father never mentioned that to me. I mentioned Dark side of the family because there was a side to my family who was into gangs. My father got into it and the rest is history. His Drug usage I'm sure started from there but unlike the others who grew up, he couldn't quit.
What a stupid way to go but I guess he went the way he wanted to go. I loved my father very much but I know he loved his drugs much more than he loved his family. I remember the day my Grandmother woke me up to tell me he died. I was sleeping on the couch. I think it was 7 or 8am in the morning. My mother called my Grandmother to tell her the news. My Grandmother woke up my sister, my sister started crying. My Grandmother came to me and woke me up. I heard my sister and I asked, what happened. She held my hand and said " DYCE " of course she didn't say DYCE but anyway she held my hand and then said " Your father died this morning " My eyes started to fill with tears. I just spoke to him three days before this happened.
I didn't want to believe her. I started to hit the pillows yelling NOOOOO. DADDY.....NOOOOO. I only had shorts on and a shirt. I ran out the house and kept running till I ended up at my mothers house. I didn't even ask my Grandmother how he died. I guess I knew deep down how it happened but I was told this is what happened. My father was shooting his drugs in my mother's aunt's bathroom. He was staying over her house at the time. After spending several hours in the bathroom he came out bumping into walls before falling into the bed. There is a difference of getting into bed and falling into bed. My Aunt covered him. She didn't know it but he was dying. He never woke up. My aunt did mention that he was making weird noises during the night. She checked on him in the morning and he was gone.
My Mother blamed my Aunt. She said that if my father remained with her, he would have called the hospital. I remember thinking how stupid that answer was. Your answer should have been, I would have done everything in my power to get him off of drugs. There I was crying my eyes out in my mothers arms. I couldn't take it. Remember this was a guy who said when I was born that I wasn't his kid yet, I was the very close to him compared to his other kids. I say other because he had more children outside the relationship with my mom. I knew what was next. I knew that paying your respects was coming up and I did not want to go.
The day was finally here and it was only one week after he passed away. I walked in and sat way in the back. I didn't want to approach the coffin. I was crying, my head was down. So called family was coming in and hugging me. Whatever
My mom finally came in and came up to me. She said to me " did you pay your respects to your father" I told her mom I can't go up there. I sat way in the back. I couldn't see his face from where I was. She told me that I needed to go up there. My brother, my sister, his other kids paid their respects. I couldn't go up there. After sometime my mom convinced me that I should go up there. As I got closer to the coffin, I noticed his face. Again my face was filled with tears. Then we were up at the coffin. I fell to his chest and cried so hard. I yelled out DADDY!!! NOOOOOO. Please wake up!!!!!!!!!!!!!Please. I reached out and grabbed him out of the coffin.
As stiff as he was he was still in my arms and I did not want to let him go no matter how much my family was trying to convince me to let him go. All I wanted was for him to wake up. As I'm typing this, I had to walk away because I almost cried again thinking about it. I finally let him go. I turned around and walked away. I never came back. I told my mother I could not see him in there. I would go crazy. That event changed my life, I wish I could say for the better
I soon started my journey on attempted suicide.................I post this later on....
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Welcome to my First every Blog
Hello World. Yes this is the DYCEMAN in the flesh with random thoughts that pop in my head. Those that know me may worry and those that know me have seen first hand that at times my posts can be long and to the point.
Before I go any further I must say a few things about myself to start off this blog. I was a premature baby. Born in 6 months. Yes I was very small. Could have died. Reason I was born that young was because my father had kicked my mother in stomach. The reason I'm guessing is because someone told him that I wasn't his son. It didn't help that when I was born, my completion was light compared to him who was dark. My mother was light. Our family is Puerto Rican and some PR's can be dark is chocolate. My Dad was not to dark, not to light but I was the same as my mother. My father always said that I wasn't his child because I did not look like him. I looked more like my mother. I have an older brother, and older sister and then my younger brother who is my half brother. Same mother different father.
Oh well, what is a child to do. Funny thing is I was closer to my dad than all the other kids that he had. He refused a DNA test to determine if I was his child. I guess over time it didn't matter because he was the only father I knew. While I was young, my father was always in to Drugs. Every waking moment, I saw him taking drugs. I didn't understand what drugs were. I just thought my dad was funny all the time or acting funny. I didn't know that while my mother and father were together, my mother called the Operator to rush him to the hospital. They didn't have 911 back then. My father would shoot drugs through his needles. My mother left him when I was young. I'm guessing when I was 4 or 5 I can't really remember. Thinking back, I don't think my mother could have changed any outcome that was to become my father's destiny.
Growing up. We were dirt poor. I mean we had to steal clothes from the Thrift shop. Of course I'm not going to say which one. Our shoes had holes in them. Our socks had holes in them. We ate when ever, whatever. For our shoes we would put cardboard on the inside. It didn't help when it rained. Socks, well we tied our socks so there wouldn't be a hole. We were dirt poor. There was even a time where we had to place to live. We slept in a park. Things started to look up late 70's. Meaning that we had a place to live. We had food. We didn't have to steal clothes anymore. Everything we had was second hand but still we had a roof over our head and food to eat. The food though was rice and beans. This is the part where you laugh because it's not like you never heard a Latin family eating rice and beans. Steak OMG when we had steak it was like heaven. My mother although she could be a pain in the rear was a great cool. I should say is a great cook because I don't know if she will see this.
After my Mother and Father split, my Mother met this guy who was to become the father of my little brother. This was a time in my life that I call pain and the reason I say pain is because of all the crap this guy put us through. I think I was about 8 years old now. My Sister who is about 4 years older started to complain to my mother that she was being touched by my little brother's father. My mother of course took action!!! She kicked my sister out because she didn't believe her. Looking back on that, I realized how evil my mother was but leaning how many other mothers do the same thing. If you are one of them, you need to slap yourself in the face because your child should come before any man. This guy was my sister's step father. My mother kicked her out for telling the truth. She went to live with my Grandmother. Her life would never be the same. So it was my mother, step father, older brother, and younger brother. Soon after my sister left. I noticed that my step father would go into my brother's side of the room and begin touching him. My brother could not defend himself since he was retarded and didn't know what was going. I didn't know what to do other than keep quiet because I knew that if I said anything that my mother would kick us out. I stayed quiet till he wanted to touch me!! Candy didn't work, money didn't work, I would scream and yell when he came to my side of the room. I learned that this also protected my brother so since then I screamed each time he opened the door.
Being Honest, the most he ever did to me was touch my privates once. My mother finally left him but he would always come around to see my little brother. I don't know if my little brother was ever touched. I never asked and have yet to ask. I figure it's a dead issue because he hated his father so I'm guessing his father touched him as well. During this time my father was in prison. I never said anything at all ever to him. My father would kill him. When my father was released, he tried to get back with my mom because my mom was now single but my father loved his drugs even more. I wished they got back together. My mother was no Angel. If you saw the movie mommy dearest, my mother made that woman look like a saint!! I have scars on my body from the beatings I received. My mother once turned out her smoke right on my right wrist. I have the scar from that to prove it. Even after all the beatings, I love my mother very much but things changed after this next event in my life.
I am now 11 years old when I developed a headache that wouldn't go away. After about a week my mom took me (finally) to the doctors. It wasn't my regular doctor. He gave the pills and that was it. Two days later I was worse. I mean, every time I stood up, I would vomit. I could not hold any food down. I stood up, I vomit. My mom would call the doctors, same doctor said it's a side effect from the medicine. Two days later, I was worse. My regular doctor was back. He was pissed at my mother because of the fact that she should have taken me to the emergency room. She told my mother we need to admit him to the hospital. I remember receiving shot after shot after shot in my arms that both my arms were purple. I still could not stand. Three days after arriving to the hospital my condition was worse. My father during this time was back in prison. He didn't know anything that was going on.
My so called Family didn't come to visit. It was just my mother. I remember her telling me this entire story because I could not remember any of it. The Doctors came to my mother early morning telling her that I have about 20 minutes to live. My mother started going crazy. She looked through the glass window to see white foam coming from my mouth. My stomach started to go in and out or doing a wave like a snake or something. 20-minutes. This was the second time in my life that death was knocking at my door. I guess the doctors were right on because it came down to the last minute when I flat lined. They all rushed in all of them and used those things to shock me. Sorry I don't know what that's called but they did it three times and nothing. They said I was dead. It was 15 seconds later that they received a pulse. They almost put the bed sheet over my face. I was ALIVE. They received a pulse. Cheated death again but this time it came with a price. After that the Doctors came to my mother and told her I won the fight but that I'm not out of the woods. I fell into a coma and stayed that way for three weeks.
I can only imagine what any parent might feel thinking of the very thought of loosing their child. Nobody came to visit me. Nobody gave comfort to my mother. Here was a woman who beat me so bad at times to being right there by my side and not leaving for one second. I'm almost in tears telling this part of my life. When I came out the coma I lost all my memory. I did not know who anyone was. I did not know my mother, father, brothers, or sister. My uncle finally showed up while my mother was down stairs getting some coffee. When she saw him there, she screamed at the top of her lungs Demanding that he leave. She instructed that hospital that no one is to visit me but her and my grandmother. They were not there to support her when she needed it. My mother later told me that my uncle told her that he asked me if I knew who he was, I stated " I don't know you " is what my uncle said. After my mother yelled, my uncle left and my mom stayed in the room with me showing me pictures. Even my classmates came to visit, my best friend at the time came to visit. I didn't know any of them. My best friend later told me that I had an empty look in my eyes as if I wasn't me.
Maybe a few days later I remember opening my eyes. The person I saw was my brother. I said his name. He was shocked that I said his name. He said my name. I remembered who he was. The first thing I said to him was " I'm thirsty, Where am I" he ran to my mother who came in and I asked my mom where am I. She was crying that I remembered her. Doctor's came in and explained to my mother not to excite me. She couldn't help it. She hugged me and cried. I cried with her simply because of the thought of seeing her cry hurt. I was shown all kinds of pictures of different people but I did not remember anyone outside my mom, dad, brother, sister, former stepfather. I was still clueless. I lost most of my memory. I could not recall things and till this very day I get bits and pieces of what was and I wonder if it's just a dream. I did remember lots of things but could not remember things I did or places I've gone. I did remember some of the bad things that happened and lost many things that happened. I guess it was a new start.
I'm now about 14. My memory is still off but I'm good. Now that I'm older but still remember some of the bad things, this one event crossed my mind just now. One night while my mother was out, I saw my former step father walking up the hill from a distance. My sister was living with us again after what happened in the hospital. Anyway, I saw him coming up the hill. I filled a bucket with ICE COLD water. As soon as he knocked on the door, I got him with the water and told him to get the hell out of here. Small revenge but it worked. I never seen him again. I heard he moved to mexico only to die years later from Alcohol.
Now I'm 15 folks and I know it all. Yeah right. This was the year that my father died.
I'll continue this story later on........
Before I go any further I must say a few things about myself to start off this blog. I was a premature baby. Born in 6 months. Yes I was very small. Could have died. Reason I was born that young was because my father had kicked my mother in stomach. The reason I'm guessing is because someone told him that I wasn't his son. It didn't help that when I was born, my completion was light compared to him who was dark. My mother was light. Our family is Puerto Rican and some PR's can be dark is chocolate. My Dad was not to dark, not to light but I was the same as my mother. My father always said that I wasn't his child because I did not look like him. I looked more like my mother. I have an older brother, and older sister and then my younger brother who is my half brother. Same mother different father.
Oh well, what is a child to do. Funny thing is I was closer to my dad than all the other kids that he had. He refused a DNA test to determine if I was his child. I guess over time it didn't matter because he was the only father I knew. While I was young, my father was always in to Drugs. Every waking moment, I saw him taking drugs. I didn't understand what drugs were. I just thought my dad was funny all the time or acting funny. I didn't know that while my mother and father were together, my mother called the Operator to rush him to the hospital. They didn't have 911 back then. My father would shoot drugs through his needles. My mother left him when I was young. I'm guessing when I was 4 or 5 I can't really remember. Thinking back, I don't think my mother could have changed any outcome that was to become my father's destiny.
Growing up. We were dirt poor. I mean we had to steal clothes from the Thrift shop. Of course I'm not going to say which one. Our shoes had holes in them. Our socks had holes in them. We ate when ever, whatever. For our shoes we would put cardboard on the inside. It didn't help when it rained. Socks, well we tied our socks so there wouldn't be a hole. We were dirt poor. There was even a time where we had to place to live. We slept in a park. Things started to look up late 70's. Meaning that we had a place to live. We had food. We didn't have to steal clothes anymore. Everything we had was second hand but still we had a roof over our head and food to eat. The food though was rice and beans. This is the part where you laugh because it's not like you never heard a Latin family eating rice and beans. Steak OMG when we had steak it was like heaven. My mother although she could be a pain in the rear was a great cool. I should say is a great cook because I don't know if she will see this.
After my Mother and Father split, my Mother met this guy who was to become the father of my little brother. This was a time in my life that I call pain and the reason I say pain is because of all the crap this guy put us through. I think I was about 8 years old now. My Sister who is about 4 years older started to complain to my mother that she was being touched by my little brother's father. My mother of course took action!!! She kicked my sister out because she didn't believe her. Looking back on that, I realized how evil my mother was but leaning how many other mothers do the same thing. If you are one of them, you need to slap yourself in the face because your child should come before any man. This guy was my sister's step father. My mother kicked her out for telling the truth. She went to live with my Grandmother. Her life would never be the same. So it was my mother, step father, older brother, and younger brother. Soon after my sister left. I noticed that my step father would go into my brother's side of the room and begin touching him. My brother could not defend himself since he was retarded and didn't know what was going. I didn't know what to do other than keep quiet because I knew that if I said anything that my mother would kick us out. I stayed quiet till he wanted to touch me!! Candy didn't work, money didn't work, I would scream and yell when he came to my side of the room. I learned that this also protected my brother so since then I screamed each time he opened the door.
Being Honest, the most he ever did to me was touch my privates once. My mother finally left him but he would always come around to see my little brother. I don't know if my little brother was ever touched. I never asked and have yet to ask. I figure it's a dead issue because he hated his father so I'm guessing his father touched him as well. During this time my father was in prison. I never said anything at all ever to him. My father would kill him. When my father was released, he tried to get back with my mom because my mom was now single but my father loved his drugs even more. I wished they got back together. My mother was no Angel. If you saw the movie mommy dearest, my mother made that woman look like a saint!! I have scars on my body from the beatings I received. My mother once turned out her smoke right on my right wrist. I have the scar from that to prove it. Even after all the beatings, I love my mother very much but things changed after this next event in my life.
I am now 11 years old when I developed a headache that wouldn't go away. After about a week my mom took me (finally) to the doctors. It wasn't my regular doctor. He gave the pills and that was it. Two days later I was worse. I mean, every time I stood up, I would vomit. I could not hold any food down. I stood up, I vomit. My mom would call the doctors, same doctor said it's a side effect from the medicine. Two days later, I was worse. My regular doctor was back. He was pissed at my mother because of the fact that she should have taken me to the emergency room. She told my mother we need to admit him to the hospital. I remember receiving shot after shot after shot in my arms that both my arms were purple. I still could not stand. Three days after arriving to the hospital my condition was worse. My father during this time was back in prison. He didn't know anything that was going on.
My so called Family didn't come to visit. It was just my mother. I remember her telling me this entire story because I could not remember any of it. The Doctors came to my mother early morning telling her that I have about 20 minutes to live. My mother started going crazy. She looked through the glass window to see white foam coming from my mouth. My stomach started to go in and out or doing a wave like a snake or something. 20-minutes. This was the second time in my life that death was knocking at my door. I guess the doctors were right on because it came down to the last minute when I flat lined. They all rushed in all of them and used those things to shock me. Sorry I don't know what that's called but they did it three times and nothing. They said I was dead. It was 15 seconds later that they received a pulse. They almost put the bed sheet over my face. I was ALIVE. They received a pulse. Cheated death again but this time it came with a price. After that the Doctors came to my mother and told her I won the fight but that I'm not out of the woods. I fell into a coma and stayed that way for three weeks.
I can only imagine what any parent might feel thinking of the very thought of loosing their child. Nobody came to visit me. Nobody gave comfort to my mother. Here was a woman who beat me so bad at times to being right there by my side and not leaving for one second. I'm almost in tears telling this part of my life. When I came out the coma I lost all my memory. I did not know who anyone was. I did not know my mother, father, brothers, or sister. My uncle finally showed up while my mother was down stairs getting some coffee. When she saw him there, she screamed at the top of her lungs Demanding that he leave. She instructed that hospital that no one is to visit me but her and my grandmother. They were not there to support her when she needed it. My mother later told me that my uncle told her that he asked me if I knew who he was, I stated " I don't know you " is what my uncle said. After my mother yelled, my uncle left and my mom stayed in the room with me showing me pictures. Even my classmates came to visit, my best friend at the time came to visit. I didn't know any of them. My best friend later told me that I had an empty look in my eyes as if I wasn't me.
Maybe a few days later I remember opening my eyes. The person I saw was my brother. I said his name. He was shocked that I said his name. He said my name. I remembered who he was. The first thing I said to him was " I'm thirsty, Where am I" he ran to my mother who came in and I asked my mom where am I. She was crying that I remembered her. Doctor's came in and explained to my mother not to excite me. She couldn't help it. She hugged me and cried. I cried with her simply because of the thought of seeing her cry hurt. I was shown all kinds of pictures of different people but I did not remember anyone outside my mom, dad, brother, sister, former stepfather. I was still clueless. I lost most of my memory. I could not recall things and till this very day I get bits and pieces of what was and I wonder if it's just a dream. I did remember lots of things but could not remember things I did or places I've gone. I did remember some of the bad things that happened and lost many things that happened. I guess it was a new start.
I'm now about 14. My memory is still off but I'm good. Now that I'm older but still remember some of the bad things, this one event crossed my mind just now. One night while my mother was out, I saw my former step father walking up the hill from a distance. My sister was living with us again after what happened in the hospital. Anyway, I saw him coming up the hill. I filled a bucket with ICE COLD water. As soon as he knocked on the door, I got him with the water and told him to get the hell out of here. Small revenge but it worked. I never seen him again. I heard he moved to mexico only to die years later from Alcohol.
Now I'm 15 folks and I know it all. Yeah right. This was the year that my father died.
I'll continue this story later on........
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