family crisis violence

I went to see my dad's family this weekend.   i was almost in redding when i got the call from my little brother that my dad had pushed my brother, and about the fight, when my dad came home drunk.  and all the crap he said.  we stayed at a motel that night.  Me and my stepmom sat up in the motel talking about what to do next.  we made plans.  this was all so sobering to me.  i felt like this was so long time coming.   like i was seeing the Elephant in the room.  Everything in the corners come to the light.  and the weekend went on and the sadness and the pain.  and the garment of violence.  (and behold this garment that i've been attracting in guys) and then going back to normal the next day,  but my brothers staying in their rooms.  the acquardness, the eggshells.  

my stepmom making dinner and giving us ice cream.  no where else to go.  

and trying to talk to my dad the next day at the bar.  and him ignoring me, watching TV, and not talking to me, talking to the bartender girl.  Then my dad bringing up my college Graduation 4 years later again and how pissed he was that the speakers were anti-war, and me trying to tell him about the violent look in his face that day, and how he gets that way when he's drunk.  he didn't walk to talk about Friday.  but the way he kept talking to the bartender, blowing me off.  and realizing this is what always happens.  and how i attract this in guys, like you-know-who.  the discarding and disregard. ignoring me.  being in a fog, in another place.   i went in the bathroom and started sobbing.   he worked on my teeth again that day, trying to even out my teeth, and was drilling the top, and it hurt i didn't have  a shot, he got all hectic it felt like he was mad.  "You need a shot?" and grabbing the needle.  it was rough and all over the place.   when we were done he rushed out to go watch olympics with my brother and i left behind him.  and I started weeping, just weeping could barely drive to his house.  i cut it off and grabbed my stuff from the house and left, i just wanted to get out.  

Going down the 5 I started to cry again. i pulled over, it was a very breaking down cry.  it was not hysterical.  I was just sobbing.  

And then I relized later, that this was the first time I had wept over my dad.  and how important that that was, to weep over my father.  to feel it,  to have it all come up and mess with me and to be there with the same way it goes down, and to see the really ugly stuff, and to know it.

And I wept.  It was the first time I had ever

I wept over my dad.