The choas ended when I father left. And that sucks.

I have done okay as dad this month. While my son did tell me that "I sucked", it was only after he lost control of his temper trying to fit a couple of Lego pieces together, and needed to be separated from them. I take that as a win. When he runs home from the bus, he will give me a great big hug, I will tell him that I love him, and he will go on playing. Thus far, these are our shared experiences, and his childhood memories.. the future "good ole days."

I don't remember my father in my childhood much. And that sucks. I remember Christmas days, the train, and the Nintendo. I remember eating at Primo Pizza in Alexandria, VA. But what I don't remember is my father as a fixture in our lives.

Well, that's not entirely true. What I remember is a sense of dis-ease, chaos, and fear in our household. There had to have been wonderful moments, peaceful days, and great memories. Unfortunately they have been smothered to death by the spankings and the belt, the punishments, lost toys, terrifying yelling, fights with my mother. Until he left us. Then silence.

There was the time he broke my cassettes, because they were devil's music. This was the satanic panic of the 80s after all.

I am grateful to see all of his humanity through the eyes of a parent. Parenting is difficult. Full stop. Marriage is difficult. He did his best and left us out of self-preservation. In his shoe's, I could have done the same exact thing.

What sucks is that his time with us is a generational dark cloud over our heads. My fear is that I could just as easily be that dark cloud over my children's head.