Surviving Father's Day

My father died when I was 18 during my first semester of college. Like anyone who has ever lost a parent, I wonder what my Dad would think of me now. I wonder especially because I was not a self-proclaimed feminist, nor was my concentration on violence against women and children. My father always encouraged me to be a strong woman. He always told me that he knew I would go to college and graduate. He never worried about me succeeding. So with that aspect of my life I know he would be proud. But it became clear to me in Graduate school that if my father were still alive I would have a lot of hard-hitting questions for him. The biggest being, he not have accepted any man abusing his daughters, so why did he abuse other people's daughters? 

My Dad had a long history of domestic violence and with a combination of PTSD from two voluntary tours of Vietnam, alcoholism, and growing up with violence in the household my Dad was a prime candidate to repeat the cycle. My Dad gave up drinking before I was born; he just stopped one day. No rehab. No nothing. Cigarettes were something he was never able to give up no matter how many times he tried and it ultimately contributed to his death. But the violence seemed to have stopped when he stopped drinking, with the exception of my mother. Now my parents were divorced by the time I was 2.5 years old so I don't remember any violence consciously. Although I do exhibit signs, quieter ones, of someone who saw abuse or was abused. Fun fact: When someone is abused their brain chemistry is altered. You want to know if someone has been abused? Do a brain scan, it'll all be right there. Children who witness abuse but who are never physically abused themselves have the same brain chemistry of a child who is physically abused. My parents divorced because my father was beating my mother and cheating on her. Somewhere there is a file lurking around that also has toddler Sabrina with hand marks on her little arms; the man had a firm grip. My mother said that when my father was abusing her, he wasn't mentally there. He simply snapped. He didn't recall anything and nothing she did to inflict pain on him worked. But once my parents divorced the violence stopped. 

As a feminist, I HATE abusers. I cannot stand to look at them. However, I love my father. The memories I have of him are not of a man of who beat me and my mother. My parents had a dysfunctional friendship when I was growing up. Far more functional than most people after a divorce. My dad was generally very nice to his ex-wives, most likely for his children's sake and because he didn't have custody of most of us. So I have always had a difficult dealing with my Dad, the man I love, and the abuser that I don't know. I have so many questions I wish I would have had the chance to ask him and believe me I would have asked. Once I get a question into my head it does not leave until I blurt it out. So I am stuck with this. 

Dad why was it okay for you to abuse women? Didn't you think about your own daughters and the kind of relationships you were setting us up for? How did you feel when your daughters were in abusive relationships? Do you feel you shoulder at least some of that blame? How do you feel about men that abuse women and children? Are you sorry? And how do you feel about where I stand on these issues?

 I will never have my answers. And I doubt I am the only person out there who is in this position. The only thing that I do know is, it's not my fault, my siblings’, nor any of the women who were abused; we did not make my Dad the way he was. To my brother's credit, he broke the cycle. He did not become an abuser. Being abused does not mean that you yourself will grow up to be a victim or an abuser. But it does mean we can grow up to be survivors.