An Answer to My Letter [1995]

I didn't know that [my family] had already received a letter from Dad in response to what I had written him. It began with a preamble:

I'm pleased that Edna did write her letter to me because it opened my eyes to what has really been going on in the minds of my children. It has also provided me with the opportunity to review my past and to respond to her in a sincere and forthright manner. And to this end, let me stress that there will be no further discussion or correspondence with any of you in respect to these matters. Edna has stated her concerns and I have responded. That's the end of it as far as I'm concerned.

Uh-oh, it didn't take much to realize that he had no intention of speaking from his heart in an honest way. Or maybe, this was his honest way. Deception and denial are very powerful when one needs to survive. His entire letter ran to forty-five pages. Addressed to me, with copies distributed to my siblings, it in part said:

I have read your letter several times—not in anger, but to reflect and determine if I really was the mean, cruel, heartless, lying, stealing, inconsiderate, mentally and sexually abusive father you suggest I was.

You wrote that I attempted to get into bed with you. Do you honestly believe that's a true statement...

You also wrote that I was telling everyone that you were my mistress. I believe I did make that statement to a young man—jokingly—on the aircraft, as he seemed to like you.

Now, I have a question for you:

Have you ever had or shown in any way a greater affection for me than you should have? (You don't have to answer this—it's just food for thought.)

Certainly, my behaviour in Montreal was bizarre—my whole life was bizarre at that time. It was a midlife crisis. It's too bad I didn't think of this when I was confronted by you and your sisters.

You dated a man who worked for me—and you slept with him. And then you would come to church with your mother and me, and take communion, even though you'd had sex with him. I commented that this was sinful, and you rationalized it by saying you loved him. God doesn't accept reasons for sinning!

Picking myself up off the floor, I wondered if I could get through the rest of his letter. There just aren't words to explain what it's like to have your father spew venom and gasoline all over you and then light a match, only to continue spewing lies while you are frantically burning to death right before him. His descriptions of what didn't happen creeped me out—he was almost describing what did happen.

The next part of his letter was highlighted:

Most important of all—if you were so concerned about me, why in the name of anything logical or sane would you ever want to go to Montreal with me? And I might add that you were extremely elated about the trip. I also remember that you and your Mother had a bit of an argument at the time. She was not happy about the situation. But you still went. Why? Makes one think doesn't it?

You've always been treated like a little innocent child, needing to be taken care of. When we went to Montreal, you were no child. You were a woman who was already a mother and certainly knew her way around the gay bars, the straight bars, knew where the dope was, and much, much more. You were very mature, like nineteen going on thirty-two.

And you say your mother didn't love you—what a stupid, ignorant, and ungrateful statement. If she turned against you because of Montreal, it's because she was of the opinion that you provoked me on occasion. You say she rejected you. She rejected your lesbian lifestyle, and so did I, and so did other family members.

After your question regarding my raping and beating your mother, it took me several days to get my reasoning back... and then I confronted your mother...