“He just seemed so nice and normal when we were young. He had a...

“He just seemed so nice and normal when we were young.  He had a high profile job.  We were super spoiled. He always hugged me.  Always told me he loved me.  Always taught me things and encouraged me.  But I guess the whole time he had a drug problem.  He started yelling at my mom when I was five or six.  It would happen all the time.  Then when I was eight years old, I walked in on him beating her for the first time.  She was all bruised up and crying.  He looked like he wanted to kill her.  We left a few years later.  Mom woke us up in the middle of the night, packed our bags, and took us outside.  I remember she flagged down a random car.  My father ran after us in the street, begging me to stay,  just me.  We got a restraining order the next day.  And after that, I barely spoke to him anymore.  I hated him for what he did to my mom.  But a few months ago he had a bad stroke, and now he’s living in a rehab center in a ghetto part of Toronto.  He just sits around all day.  He wears raggedy clothes.  He doesn’t remember anything.  Whenever I visit him, he says he wishes we could go back to when we were kids.  He asks why my mom left him.  Then he asks again.  And again.  He just seems heartbroken.  It’s all very pathetic.  I feel bad for him.  It’s hard to stay mad at somebody who’s not really there anymore.”
(Toronto, Canada)