In honor of @surpassinggoogle and his honest support of new steemit users and brightening up @snook's life, really with his loving attention to her contest, Ulog, and @snook's request to turn my 'dark' and true (from my perspective) life story into an Ulog, I will do so. It will be very hard to fully describe my daily activities and situation in life without some backstory. This story is me. It's a long-winded and unbelievable story to even those that who were closely involved. Please say something if this story is too negative or not in spirit of Ulog, please!
I can remember sitting in a car waiting in front of a Subway menu sign. My Father was impatient and was telling me to hurry up and order. I could tell he knew I was tired of the fast food. I can remember ordering a meatball sub sandwich with much disgust. The sandwich was nothing but a greasy mess. Fast Food never was the same once my mother died. I suppose too much of anything single thing should make any normal person tire of it.
The months between 2/14/96 and 9/11/96 were a huge blur. The only things that I can really remember very well were how crazy my dad had become at night, the way people treated me like a glass object, the picture I wanted to draw and of course the fast food.
It seemed like every other night my Father was piss drunk. He would scream and yell at the top of his lungs while crying he would ask the empty room as if his wife was there and alive, 'Why did you do it?' Somehow it was her fault the coroner determined. Somehow she had 'accidentally' slipped and fell into a bathtub and managed to completely rearrange her all of her moveable body parts in the opposite way they should be in. Truly a once in a million fall if it were accidental. If she slipped and fell why was the bathroom floor perfect layered with hand towels on the floor as if someone had fallen?
My Mother's father and my dad's relationship went downhill faster than I could imagine. Once the autopsy report came out that she died of suspicious causes my grandfather was not happy. Its funny the only reason I knew this because of my Father's grandmother who had to tell me as my story started to have some weight to it.
A 6-month custody battle quickly ensued. My brother Nathan, Jaclyn and I were now pieces of property. Arguably, my father had viewed us as such since he used us as bargaining chips for a haunted gun (remember George? George and our haunted gun journey is next after this part!). Our Grandparents on our mother's side had become sworn enemies. One of the last times, if not the last time they had seen their only daughter, she was temporarily paralyzed on the couch begging her parents to not say anything which only lead to a suspicious autopsy report that seemed to only further enrage my grandparents. The catalyst for my grandparents to bring my father to court, was my Father getting multiple driving under the influence charges while driving with my 2-year-old brother in at least 2 cases. Let's not forget the time he went to jail for a few hours for leaving him in a hot car at a strip club. My brother, sister and I were now halfway to become orphans and already being fought over like treasure. All that they wanted to do was what they felt was right and all my Father was trying to do was save face and keep his possessions his.
I can remember each time my dad had an incident involving the law I would think this was it, this would mean I would lose him. I wanted to keep my one last parent despite the new jaded perspective I had of him. He was all I had and there was a reason my mother was not close to her Father and I knew why. He was an asshole. Even as a child I saw the grass wasn't greener with either person. Much like a kidnap victim in captivity too long I wanted my Father. I could feel his love enough even though it was nothing compared to my mother's authentic love.
With each incident, my dad had with the Law, it seemed to create a positive experience that uplifted his court situation and further caused issues with my grandparent's valiant efforts to acquire their grandkids. It almost 'powered' him up each time.
One evening, my Dad was not at home at his usual time. My sister and I were used to walking home and waiting for our Father to get home. His schedule at work had changed to normal 9-5ish hours from night shifts to better facilitate our school schedules and my 2-year-old brother's daycare hours. This night I had a weird inclination to draw a picture of us kids with colors and a rainbow with a note saying simply 'We love you, dad!' I wanted to post this on his closet door. I grabbed a piece of paper and coloring pencils. But the gravity was too much for me. It was like I was given a choice, I was to choose at that moment, how much I really did love my Father. This was the clear question in my mind. This moment came around 7 pm in the evening right before the cops came. I had just chosen not to draw the picture.
Source
:Knock: :knock:
"Police!"
My heart sank I knew this couldn't be good, I instantly regretted not drawing the picture I had just envisioned. This picture is just as ingrained as the image of how I found mother was, in my memory to this day. "You and your sister must come with us," the police officer told us in a cold tone but avoided giving eye contact as if we were naked and exposed for the world to see. There was nothing he could do but drive us off.
Part 1
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story
Part 2
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-pt-2
Part 3
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-pt-3
Part 4
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-part-4
Part 5
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-part-5
Part 6
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-part-6
Part 7
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-part-7
Part 8
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-part-8
Part 9
https://steemit.com/autobiography/@dynamicgreentk/my-life-story-part-9
