Part IV: Revenge: not with Wrath, but through Love

 So my Dad is homeless. He contacted my mom last month. It's the first time they really talked in 30 years. I'm not sure why he would bother to come to her unless he was desperate. He has to know that she hates him. She'll be cordial but she'll mock his downfall

I finally contact him after a few weeks since I wanted to wait this out, since I need diplomatic channels to stay open. My dad ghosts me a lot. I'm finally fed up and send him an uncharacteristically short text: "Dad, tell me what's going on?"

And he responds the next day. He won't take my money. Why? I don't know. I do admonish him that Pride is a cardinal sin.

All the while, I have to hear my mother mock him. Yes, my dad suffered from the cardinal sin of Lust. I do point out to her that she suffers from Wrath. She mocks me. I tell her to see a priest. "My church is in my own home." I derisively respond "That's called Protestantism!!!"

My husband and I are scrambling. Here's the plan: pay $1,500 for a PI so we know where he's working and where he's sleeping, fly to his area, track him down, I get on my knees pleading, find his son to reason, get vet organizations involved. He's going to have to break down eventually. We have to reason with him. He's getting edema in his leg from sleeping in his truck. Do you need an SUV? Do we need to pay the rent 6 months in advance for your home? I even post locally for tips. Besides a few Punisher cosplayers (Conservative Inc., losers with a tendency to accuse everyone of scamming even though I never asked for money), most there are really helpful. "Southerners really are friendly. My area was trash," I thought to myself. 

And I'm thinking Medieval too. My mother is driven by wrath. To bail out my Dad would be like me driving a dagger into her larynx, seeing blood pour out of her throat. It's what she deserves in the end. I never did take revenge. I'm too nice to do that...

My dad contacts me on the 13th. He tells me that he lied, which is ok. He does indeed have a PayPal. He needs the money that night. He only has $5 until Friday. And I love my dad because he's the only one in my family who never treated me like I'm crazy... Husband and I sketch up plans. Western Union. We wire him $500. I tell him to get a gin and to eat better.

He's telling me that he'll pay me back when he gets his Social Security. I tell him that my husband owes him dowries. We wanted to pay this to my mother, except she's the only one in the world who makes me viscerally angry, and she did pimp me out to a pedophile out of spite and nothing more... For the two weeks annually that I would see my dad, it was normalcy and he taught me how not to slam doors. He taught me how to drive whereas my mom just screamed at me for driving 5 mph in an empty park parking lot. She never let me have a career. She spent years undermining my relationship. She spent years attacking my holy project that is my translation. Even when I found a black kitten one night, carried her to my place in my arms for a mile, and I went out the next day to unsuccessfully find her owner, she attacked me viciously, laughing, calling me stupid, that I don't realize that someone will claim this black kitten so they can do a Satanic sacrifice. If I wasn't raised like such trash, I would have become a nun!

But I tell my dad, who, like me, according to my husband, writes eerily like me, overexplaining everything, I tell him that I won't help him unless he accepts my money for free: the first decade of my rosary is MERCY in tribute to Saint Martin of Tours. I'll be dropping off a few thousand until March when he gets his affairs settled.

I haven't told my mom yet. I might not do so. I probably will because I tell everyone everything. And when I do, it's going to burn her. She sees my dad's fall as cosmic retribution. I see her as further fueling her wrath. I see what I'm doing as killing this demon with love, despite my dad's neurotic guilt for never having been there much for me.  In the last 20 years, we've only met up for 15 minutes. That was his choice in the end

Despite that, I never forgot the great things he did do for me. It was enough to give me an idea about the life I could have!!!!

And that was all 5 days. Maybe that is why I've been so hesitant about updating my blog. I guess the Rosary that I designed goes right back to my Dad in the end: Mercy ❤