Photo of Daddy-Monster

I see an old photograph, 
daddy-Monster when he was about 25, 
standing with two of his brothers-in-law, 
dressed sharply, with confidence and self-assurance. 

I see a dad who’s not a dad. 
I see an explosive volcano. 
I see a raging Monster. 
I see a domestic abuser. 

I see a man hellbent on self-destruction. 
I see a man confidently paddling his canoe – 
straight towards a waterfall.
And he’s taking his family with him. 

I see a violent man 
who will terrify his wife and children. 
I see generational violence, 
which he will continue. 

I see a man who once terrified me, 
who I now see as weak and cowardly. 
I see a man who never apologized for anything, 
who consistently blamed somebody else. 

I see a man who’s more concerned 
with appearance, than substance. 
I see a man with a great public image – 
and a terrified family. 

I see agonizing pain, well hidden. 
I see a thick wall of invulnerability 
which collapses with every tantrum. 
I see unconditional contempt. 

I see a bully, physically strong, 
trained as a boxer, fierce in the ring. 
I see a man who’s too weak 
to exercise impulse control. 

I see countless beatings, 
countless explosions. 
I see a very religious man 
who observes all the catholic holy days. 

I see a man who beats his wife 
and even his own mother. 
I see a man who beats his own children – 
even in utero. 

I see a felon, never convicted, 
never indicted, yet still guilty. 
I see a man who can destroy 
with his fists – or his words. 

I see a victim 
who never grew up, 
who revictimized himself, 
and victimized his family. 

I see his future. 
In a decade, he will achieve sobriety – 
explosive sobriety. 
I see a man who will drive his wife to drink. 

He will have heart disease before he’s forty. 
He’s past the halfway point of his half-life. 
I see a man, socially gregarious, 
at ease with others. 

I see a clever and intelligent man, 
but not intelligent enough 
to save himself – 
or his family from himself. 

I see one of his sons dying in a car wreck, 
who was otherwise headed to prison. 
I see another son left hopeless, 
in constant emotional pain, dying by suicide. 

I see his oldest son, 
myself, newly born, 
left with countless invisible scars, 
who will someday write about the violence.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: To my fellow travelers: This piece was quite painful for me to write and read and edit and reread, etc. It was also painful for me to submit this to the ComLine. I have found that this kind of pain leads to long-term healing and wholeness. I wish for healing and wholeness and peace for all fellow travelers. 

– Healing Heart Warrior (Tom M.)