My Haunted Years: Final Chapter

NO GRUDGES

Written by Gurpreet Dhariwal

My mother was questioned by one of my cousins about why she stayed and she didn’t have an answer. I believe my mother wasn’t ready to speak her mind and share her insecurities with the world. That cousin told her if she was in her place, she would have committed suicide. She wouldn’t have taken that abuse for her whole life.

I was hurt when my mother shared this with me. People don’t understand the intensity of suicide unless one commits it.

At present when I ask my mother about why she stayed, she says she was never taught to leave the abode this way. She comes from the generation where they were taught to be with the family until the end. I don’t clap listening to this bullshit. Rather I tell her that I wish I was her mother because her husband would’ve been dead long ago.

Maybe there are reasons which she is not willing to share with us. She knows I understand a lot but I still don’t force her. Whatever my mother has faced and tolerated, I cannot ruin the rest of her life by continually making her question her identity.

I am fine with her decision. And she is not the only one who stayed. I know many who are still going through domestic abuse but don’t dare walk away.

In July 2019 while moving back to my parental house, my biggest fear was coming across regular fights at home. And I wasn’t wrong. My father didn’t like my stuff at his home. He started forcing his decisions on me about where the fridge should have been placed or why I helped the workers while moving the automatic washing machine. I helped them because my stuff was heavy and I didn’t want workers to damage them.

We had a huge fight the day I was moving in. I felt like leaving because I wasn’t ready for more drama and abuse in any form. Healing wasn’t happening the way I wanted it to happen, it was happening the way God intended it to happen. I was frustrated, depressed, and anxious and wanted to leave everything and disappear forever, but that wasn’t possible.

My father’s misbehavior affected me a lot. I wasn’t ready for his cycle of repeated abuse. The abuse and end of my own marriage had changed me and I wasn’t mentally prepared for my father to damage me any further. 

Read chapter 1 of My Haunted Years

In August I started getting freelancing work but that didn’t last beyond four months. I was happy because it saved me from my father’s taunts that I was sitting idle at home after completing two masters. To be honest, I tried my hands everywhere, and it felt like sheer bad luck that nobody hired me. 

Till now I am not fully employed. I get freelancing work every three to four months and sometimes I become lucky if someone buys my paintings. 

Despite all this, and even though I moved back to my home because I had no money, it doesn’t feel like a bad decision at all. I am more comfortable in this house than anywhere else. My relationship with my father has improved a lot. He talks nicely and treats me like a mature person. He doesn’t fight illogically with my mother all the time the way he used to. Maybe because he turned 70 in June so his bones don’t have enough strength to raise hands or indulge in fights.

Whatever the reason, I am happy I face little or no commotion at home. 

Sometimes I pity my father because his family cut off ties with him when he stopped entertaining their extra expenses and tantrums. His elder sister is dead, one brother left home many years ago and his elder brother doesn’t speak to him. It’s been almost 25 years. 

Both of his parents are also dead so who does he really have as family other than the one he created in this home? 

While working as a Process Assistant, I used to take care of the household expenses and supported my father financially because I knew all his money was gone. The money I put towards the home was sent to my siblings abroad, though they never returned the favor when I was in need. Instead of being bitter, though,  I’m proud of myself for helping my father back to life financially.

Whenever he asks my siblings for money, they get irritated and insult him. I feel like punching their bloody faces. They should remember how many times they’ve  messaged him for more money for their education or while living abroad. 

One afternoon last December while sharing drinks with my father, he started crying. I told him that I would never leave him no matter what and that I will take him with me wherever I go. He felt super happy and told me I have a big heart and that I should never change myself for anyone. I felt good that day. My mother was sitting next to me and said, “You fight with us and we fight with you.” 

I told her in return, “Yes, I love you both.” 

Living with my parents is one of the best decisions I have made in my life. My mother is so authentic that I don’t feel like making friends because I have her. I cannot say the same thing about my father, but I do know that as long as he is alive, I am going to take care of him. I cannot punish him for things he did twenty years ago. He has become older, and I have grown up too.

I have seen him helping people financially, standing with them, having their back. I cannot ever forget the times my father went out of his way to help my friends. Like the time one of my friends wasn’t getting admission into college, but he got her admitted by using his contacts. He did that knowing my friend’s father wouldn’t have done the same for me. 

I feel bad for my father at times. He was rejected by his family members and friends when he left his government job. That truly broke him. It doesn’t take much to understand his pain when you look into his eyes.

He once told me last year that I don't need a man. That I am an educated woman who can do everything in this world all alone. He said all men are assholes,  including himself, and that he is proud of me for not going back to my husband. Those words made me so confident that I wish I recorded them.

I observe him, and I know he has been hurt many times in his life. Once I told my mother we have no clue about what kind of childhood he had. What sorts of friends used to degrade him or any problems he had with his parents. My mother objected that he was raised well. For some reason, I didn’t believe her. 

I don’t resent my father. I hold no grudges against him or anyone. I’ve forgiven my estranged husband long ago and I pray from my heart that these men heal because at the end of the day, we all need healing and positive vibes. I hope my father dies a happy man instead of someone who regretted being my father or a part of this family.