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.)