Accomplishments & Mourning

This month, I had my graduate school interviews. Luckily, I was able to do interview coaching through my university and finished the semester with a 4.0 GPA (the closest I've come is a 3.975).

I won't lie; It was a bit of a culture shock. Most of the people were from up North.

I've had to train my Jewish, AuDHD brain not to interrupt others. Here I am, meekly raising my hand and not wanting to step on toes. I thought I did a terrible job!

-Saturday, I had interviews.

-Monday, I was offered a place in my dream program.

-Friday...my dad died.

Saturday, I received a group text announcing the news: my dad is dead.

After 31 years, my abuser and stalker is dead.

"Don't you feel happy?"

No. No, I don't. There's no happiness. No relief. No sudden weight lifted.

I'm angry and sad and mad and hurt and want closure. I have all of these complex emotions swirling around inside me, making me cry and feel numb.

I hate the decisions he made, who he became, and the trauma he inflicted on everyone. I hate that he gave in to his vices.

I hate that he was able to have even a second of happiness while others suffered from his choices.

I deserve to grieve for the person he 'should' have been. I have every right to be angry that he tainted and robbed me of the only experience I'll ever have with a father.

I'm hurting because my inner child will always have to protect my adult self. Little me had to black out memories and develop dissociative amnesia.

I'm so so so frustrated because there will never be proper closure. The people in charge of his remains decided against any public services. As much as I'd like to, I can't scream at his urn.

My wife made an excellent point, "He'll pass down from one person to the next, and then what? He'll become their burden."

She's right. He'll become random ashes in a jar, the remains of "Who was he again?" No one will remember the person, only the burden.

I've dreamt of closure for many, many years. It feels like he's always going to be out there, watching me.

To him, I'll say this:

You didn't beat the ambition and hope out of me. Your version of "Christian love" only made me run away from the values you pushed so hard for me to adhere to.

I'm queer. I'm trans. I'm Jewish. I'm sober. I'm a liberal who believes in social justice, equality, and promoting diversity.

I'm married to a woman who loves and supports me. Her family loves and supports me. My found (chosen) family loves and supports me. Unconditionally.

You may have left me with a fear of raised voices and raised hands, loud noises and shouting, people lurking or looking over my shoulder.

But you also left me with the knowledge that I'll never harm anyone. I'll always be the best spouse I can be and the best animal mum I can be. I'll never let my mental or physical state limit what I can do. I am going to help others. I will do this.

I am strong enough to fulfill my dreams because you were so. damn. weak.

I reclaim my name not for you, but for me. It's pronounced Vur-nur.