Today would have been 55 years my parents would have been married, had my father not died in 2000.  But it's nothing to celebrate or to look back fondly on.  My parents were horrible to one another.  She was cruel.  He was physically abusive.  They were awful human beings to each other.  And both were horrible to me.  

So today, I got to think about how much I am grateful for, that my parents did not last 55 years.  And I realized something: 

Everything good in my life has come from my father's death.  Sure, I owe the actual things to me and my hubby and other things in my life, but none of it would be possible without my father giving us the gift of his death.  I mean, I may even still be married to my ex.  Yuck.  Because with my two kids, I would never have moved back home to live with those two crazy people.  So I may have never left him.  Or, if I did, it could have been under different circumstances and my husband and I may have never met.  It's crazy, how one little thing in your life influences everything else.  And my father's existence could have ruined the rest of my life.  No, it would have.  100%.  Because there was ZERO way he would have ever stopped drinking.  Or stopped being abusive.  

How I ache for that alternative reality where my father had stopped drinking and became my best friend.  And together we could have battled the forces of my crazy mother.  But that's not reality.  My father could have never been that person.  He was abusive without the beer, too.  I just didn't know it at the time.  

You know, he never said he was sorry to me.  He never made amends.  He never said "You know, I shouldn't have called you a whore or a bitch or leach or all those other names I called you."  Not once.  He had 5 weeks on his deathbed.  Five.  And we were alone a few times.  He could have.  He should have.  But he didn't.  

And I had to live with that.  For twelve years.  And now?  Twenty-two years later?  I am back to being angry at him again.  For the first twelve years, I hated him, and then I healed for twelve years and loved him again.  And now I am angry again.  Strange.  But hey, grief is fucking weird.  

Maybe living with my mother is what reminds me of my anger?  I do know I am angry at her all the time.  So maybe it's just reminding me of all the abuse I endured as a child, from both of them, which in turn reminds me of my anger towards him?  Makes total sense to me.  Especially because she will bring things up about him sometimes.  

But I did the math and I thought "Wow, 55 years...that would have been....really fucking awful."  So today, I am thinking about all the ways my life turned out for the better because he died.  I got to leave my abusive ex husband.  I got to meet Mr. Brooks and make a wonderful life with him.  I got to raise my kids without the horrific abuse my father would have shown them (or even perpetrated on them and I'd have ended up in jail for beating my dad's ass).  And my mother's dementia, he wouldn't have been able to stop her from driving or stopped her from spending all their money each month, or other crazy shit she does (did).  He was not equipped to deal with all of that.  He would have been ZERO help.  Just, so much is better off without him here.  I feel like I should feel bad saying that, but I don't.  I just don't.  I know what my life is worth without him.  And I could not fathom it ever being any different.  My life would have been worse shit show had he had lived.  In ways I could not even fathom.  

It's so strange how one single person could have such a HUGE effect on your life, just by existing.  In ways you may never even realize until they're gone.  I cannot say I wish death on anyone, ever.  Because that idea sickens me.  But now that's it's over and been done with for so long, I can honestly say I am grateful, every single day.  But especially today.  Because the idea of 55 years of my mother and him together?  Goodness.  That's a terrifying thought.  It's like that Rhianna song "Love the Way You Lie", (which is literally my parent's anthem) there's a verse that says "when a tornado meet a volcano", and that's who my parents were.  Mrs. Tornado and Mr. Volcano, ready to fuck shit up at a moment's notice.  

I am just so glad that aspect of my life is over.  You can find something to be grateful for in a bad situation, even if that same situation hurts others.  There is no shame in that.  Sometimes horrible things benefit us, and it's important to recognize that all events, both good and bad, are dual-sided.  Always.  They can be great for one person, and yet, completely destroy another.  And you don't have to feel guilt for what's great in your life, even though for someone else that same event hurt them.  Take the pandemic, for example.  I have no idea how we'd have gotten through 2020 without it.  Sounds horrible, because so many people died.  But I do honor that part.  I have empathy for those who were and are still hurting because of it.  But at the same time, I also can find my own personal gratefulness in it, since it worked out quite well for my family (by chance--it could have ended up just as easily horrible for us). 

They say things like "be grateful" or do things like "30 days of gratefulness", but nobody ever writes about how the bad stuff worked out well for them.  But we need to be grateful for the bad things, too.  Not just the good.  Because true gratefulness encompasses it all.  All situations both benefit and hurt people.  Sometimes equally, sometimes one more than the other.  But that's what's called "finding the silver lining" in life.  

I have many silver linings in life, but none more so than my father's death.  His death gave me my life back.  It led me to truly wonderful things in life.  Things I do not believe for one second I'd have ever found with him still being alive.  His death was turmoil for us, but now that I look back, was it worse than the life he led?  Was the turmoil and pain of his death actually worse than his abuse?  I don't know.  I feel bad that the biggest gift he ever gave me in life was dying.  And that makes me feel sad and horrible.  Not for feeling that way.  But for him.  To know his life was so awful and horrible and sick that his death was worth more than his life to those around him.  To know he must have been freaking miserable to be such a horrible person.  Because only hurt people hurt people.  

I am glad he's most likely happier now.  Even if he's nowhere.   Today my husband said "He'd probably agree with you on that one."  Because you have to be pretty miserable to inflict the amount of pain he did on those he supposedly loved.  

So thank you Daddy.  I am sill angry with you, and still hate you at times, but I do have the ability to understand you more now.  And to feel empathy for what you went through in life.  I am just glad, on this day which would have been your 55th anniversary with mother, that you aren't here to see it.  I feel bad saying that.  But I do know you always had to fuck up everything you touched in life.  And that makes me sad.  I wish you would have had a better life and been better.  But you weren't.  So I am grateful you're gone.  I hope you have peace now.  I am working on my own peace in life.  Because unlike you, I refuse to wait until I'm dead to get it (or to give it to others).