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....
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