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#1
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Apparently my father has died
I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father,
Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. The skiptracers had been helping me out every few months, checking to see if he had come back to the states at any point. Apparently it is required in cases of dual citizenship (USA & Poland in this case) that a person return to the US every so many months or years to continue to receive certain benefits such as Social Security. "Mike" hadn't made his visit. People in my old hometown had heard rumors of his falling off a roof of a Polish villa but that was 4 years ago or more. He hadn't come to my wedding, almost 6 years ago. Mike had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have a stepmother, Wieslawa; I had heard of how she tried to effectively wipe all evidence of any American taint from the face of Mike, forbidding him to see old friends on his visits and destroying any vestige of my mother, Frances. All that remains of my mother is a set of Magi figurines, handmade in Poland, that a neighbor had saved during one of her crazyass rants. That neighbor had saved it for nearly a decade until I got the nerve to retuen to my hometown. (It was a small place, and there were some ugly family rumors.) I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. May God damn me to hell. Blessed be, Baha -- Message posted via CatKB.com http://www.catkb.com/Uwe/Forums.aspx...dotes/200809/1 |
#2
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Apparently my father has died
On Sep 2, 8:28 pm, "Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote:
I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. The skiptracers had been helping me out every few months, checking to see if he had come back to the states at any point. Apparently it is required in cases of dual citizenship (USA & Poland in this case) that a person return to the US every so many months or years to continue to receive certain benefits such as Social Security. "Mike" hadn't made his visit. People in my old hometown had heard rumors of his falling off a roof of a Polish villa but that was 4 years ago or more. He hadn't come to my wedding, almost 6 years ago. Mike had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have a stepmother, Wieslawa; I had heard of how she tried to effectively wipe all evidence of any American taint from the face of Mike, forbidding him to see old friends on his visits and destroying any vestige of my mother, Frances. All that remains of my mother is a set of Magi figurines, handmade in Poland, that a neighbor had saved during one of her crazyass rants. That neighbor had saved it for nearly a decade until I got the nerve to retuen to my hometown. (It was a small place, and there were some ugly family rumors.) I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. May God damn me to hell. There's nothing you can do about those feelings except _forgive yourself_ They are the natural result of the way he behaved. I never had that much emotion toward my dad, because he died when I was six and had been out of the house for a few years before that. But I used to dread his visits. I remember some redeeming things. Hw was awfully nice to my mother's mother who was in a wheelchair with arthiritis. But he was a hateful bum, for the most part. None of that was my fault. That sort of thing is not the child's fault and the adult the child becomes cannot change it. My sig file is automatic unless I choose one deliberately. The one that is in place is random but wow. -- Will in New Haven "Frankly, I think the chances of having a happy childhood while you're still a kid going through it are pretty slim." Edith Ann |
#3
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Apparently my father has died
"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in message news:899d640415b47@uwe... I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. {{{{{{{{{{Baha}}}}}}}}}} I'm so sorry. Yes, feeling distant is a normal part of grief, as is anger and numbness. I went through them all when my father died 35 years ago. I still have a hard time relating to my emotions after he died and still hope that he rots in a hot place and I don't believe in Hell. Pam S. |
#4
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Apparently my father has died
I am very sorry Baha
"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in message news:899d640415b47@uwe... I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. The skiptracers had been helping me out every few months, checking to see if he had come back to the states at any point. Apparently it is required in cases of dual citizenship (USA & Poland in this case) that a person return to the US every so many months or years to continue to receive certain benefits such as Social Security. "Mike" hadn't made his visit. People in my old hometown had heard rumors of his falling off a roof of a Polish villa but that was 4 years ago or more. He hadn't come to my wedding, almost 6 years ago. Mike had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have a stepmother, Wieslawa; I had heard of how she tried to effectively wipe all evidence of any American taint from the face of Mike, forbidding him to see old friends on his visits and destroying any vestige of my mother, Frances. All that remains of my mother is a set of Magi figurines, handmade in Poland, that a neighbor had saved during one of her crazyass rants. That neighbor had saved it for nearly a decade until I got the nerve to retuen to my hometown. (It was a small place, and there were some ugly family rumors.) I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. May God damn me to hell. Blessed be, Baha -- Message posted via CatKB.com http://www.catkb.com/Uwe/Forums.aspx...dotes/200809/1 |
#5
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Apparently my father has died
On Sep 2, 7:28�pm, "Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote:
I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. The skiptracers had been helping me out every few months, checking to see if he had come back to the states at any point. Apparently it is required in cases of dual citizenship (USA & Poland in this case) that a person return to the US every so many months or years to continue to receive certain benefits such as Social Security. "Mike" hadn't made his visit. People in my old hometown had heard rumors of his falling off a roof of a Polish villa but that was 4 years ago or more. He hadn't come to my wedding, almost 6 years ago. Mike had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have a stepmother, Wieslawa; I had heard of how she tried to effectively wipe all evidence of any American taint from the face of Mike, forbidding him to see old friends on his visits and destroying any vestige of my mother, Frances. All that remains of my mother is a set of Magi figurines, handmade in Poland, that a neighbor had saved during one of her crazyass rants. That neighbor had saved it for nearly a decade until I got the nerve to retuen to my hometown. (It was a small place, and there were some ugly family rumors.) I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. May God damn me to hell. Blessed be, Baha -- Message posted via CatKB.comhttp://www.catkb.com/Uwe/Forums.aspx/cat-anecdotes/200809/1 I'm so sorry, Baha. Grieve for the relationship that never was, or the father that you wished you had, if you need to. Wish I had some wisdom for you. I hope that you can work things out within yourself, and that's pretty much what you have to do, for your own sake. (((((((((huges))))))))))))))))) Sherry |
#6
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Apparently my father has died
It sounds to me that you mourned the person who was your father many,
many years ago. The person who has just passed away was someone who unfortunately replaced everything your father should have been with violence, pain and illness. Your father died when the mental illness sparked by WWII took over that man's life. Your responses, to me, sound sane. Of course you mourned your Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly more; they loved you and returned every kindness you showed them a thousand-fold. Your best revenge, I'm sure you've heard before, is a life well lived. It sounds to me that in your choice of husband (who sounds like an absolute sweetheart) and the cats that are in your life, you are getting revenge on a daily basis. You are showing that man how happy he COULD have been had he been one iota more like you are. Live your life in blessed peace. Love those around you and learn to accept their love in return. Hugs, Tish |
#7
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Apparently my father has died
Baha via CatKB.com u18616@uwe wrote:
I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. Baha, I'm sorry you're going through this. It's certainly a weird situation, so I'm not surprised that you're having a strange reaction, or non-reaction. Not to mention that he was extremely abusive to you. And no matter what nice things an abuser might also do, the abuse will still wound you. No wonder you feel numb. I would, too, I'll bet. And your guilt sounds like part of the victim pattern, too. You know, everything's your fault, right? It's hard not to feel that way when you've been victimized by someone else. You have a right to grieve in any way that suits you - or not to grieve at all, if that's how it is. It's not a performance for others, and it's not an obligation to anyone else, either. Nobody's judging you for how much you do or don't cry for the man (and if someone does, they're way out of line). Your feelings are your own business. I know how you feel, because I often go numb around death. I've been dry-eyed at so many funerals, I used to wonder if I were just a heartless b*tch. So I've had many opportunities to think about this stuff, and the above is what I've come up with. This is *your* experience. You get to have it however you have it. You don't have to live up to anyone's expectations, not even the ones who live in your head. Oh, and I've cried much harder for cats than for people. Aside from the fact that your cats have been far greater sources of love than your step- dad ever was, I think it's often just easier to feel the grief for a pet. The feelings are just more simple and straightforward, which is *not* to say they are any less. Just less complicated. We don't have love/hate relationships with cats, causing confusion and mixed feelings. Cats are easy to love, and they're easy to grieve when they're gone (IME). Hugs & purrs, -- Joyce ^..^ (To email me, remove the X's from my user name.) |
#8
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Apparently my father has died
"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in message news:899d640415b47@uwe... I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. The skiptracers had been helping me out every few months, checking to see if he had come back to the states at any point. Apparently it is required in cases of dual citizenship (USA & Poland in this case) that a person return to the US every so many months or years to continue to receive certain benefits such as Social Security. "Mike" hadn't made his visit. People in my old hometown had heard rumors of his falling off a roof of a Polish villa but that was 4 years ago or more. He hadn't come to my wedding, almost 6 years ago. Mike had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have a stepmother, Wieslawa; I had heard of how she tried to effectively wipe all evidence of any American taint from the face of Mike, forbidding him to see old friends on his visits and destroying any vestige of my mother, Frances. All that remains of my mother is a set of Magi figurines, handmade in Poland, that a neighbor had saved during one of her crazyass rants. That neighbor had saved it for nearly a decade until I got the nerve to retuen to my hometown. (It was a small place, and there were some ugly family rumors.) I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. May God damn me to hell. Blessed be, Baha All I can do is send you my wishes for peace. And the kitties' purrs, of course. -- Theresa, Stinky and Dante drtmuirATearthlink.net Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh |
#9
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Apparently my father has died
Baha via CatKB.com wrote:
I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. snip And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. This is called shock, and is a mix of different emotions. There's relief, grief, guilt, confusion, but also the 'I don't care' and then guilt again for thinking "I don't care" etc etc. its OK, Baha, you are allowed to feel how you feel about it. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. And they are supposed to love you, support you, and to help you grow. Not the opposite. May God damn me to hell. Not a chance. Any loving God would know the truth of the situation, gather you into his/her/its/their arms and hold you until you without a doubt knew - from the tip of your hair to the soles of your feet - that you are loved. And you are. {{{Baha}}} Yowie -- "because its more fun to be evil" - Jarppi, _The Dudesons_ |
#10
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Apparently my father has died
People are what they are. Parents, especially years ago when no one wanted
to "admit" anything, could get away with horrible things.. Just be blessed that you are who you are and important to someone, even if it is our kitty friends. Be kind to yourself. "Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in message news:899d640415b47@uwe... I learned from one of the skiptracers at work that my adoptive father, Miroslaw, has died. According to the Social Security Death Index, he passed May 20, just a few weeks ago. The SSA office across the street confirmed they had received notification, but do not keep death records. The skiptracers had been helping me out every few months, checking to see if he had come back to the states at any point. Apparently it is required in cases of dual citizenship (USA & Poland in this case) that a person return to the US every so many months or years to continue to receive certain benefits such as Social Security. "Mike" hadn't made his visit. People in my old hometown had heard rumors of his falling off a roof of a Polish villa but that was 4 years ago or more. He hadn't come to my wedding, almost 6 years ago. Mike had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have a stepmother, Wieslawa; I had heard of how she tried to effectively wipe all evidence of any American taint from the face of Mike, forbidding him to see old friends on his visits and destroying any vestige of my mother, Frances. All that remains of my mother is a set of Magi figurines, handmade in Poland, that a neighbor had saved during one of her crazyass rants. That neighbor had saved it for nearly a decade until I got the nerve to retuen to my hometown. (It was a small place, and there were some ugly family rumors.) I wish I could remember the Mike who loved my dear Fritzie, and snuck him food when Mike thought no one was watching. Instead I remember the SOB who tore my clothing off and beat me with a studded belt because I did catch him, and it threw him into a flashback like you hear about with Vietnam vets. Mike had been in the Nazi camps. I wish I could remember a father. I remember some guy who had me in his house and bitched about how much I cost. I wish I could remember a dad. There is a billion degree difference, as anyone who loves his father can tell you. And I wish I weren't such an a$$hole for feeling so damnably distant. My father died last May. I learned last Thursday at work, from a skiptracer. Is this the denial part everyone talks about? Or is there a part of the grief process they never covered, like the Blank Stage? I feel more horribly for Fritzie and Odessa-Dolly. I hope he's in the kind of place where the powers that are can play him the movie of my life, and he can hide in the clouds and call himself Alan Smithee, director and writer of my mental illness. You're supposed to honor your parents. May God damn me to hell. Blessed be, Baha -- Message posted via CatKB.com http://www.catkb.com/Uwe/Forums.aspx...dotes/200809/1 |
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