It seems that lately all of my articles are on anniversaries of bad things happening, and I am afraid that today's entry is not going to change that. In truth though my life is not nearly as depressing as the last few entries suggest, and I actually have some exciting new projects and events planned for the coming months that I cannot wait to share with all of you! But back to the topic of today's article...

Ten years ago today my father died.

And to be brutally honest, it doesn't matter to me at all. I know many people will be troubled by that, as there is a feeling in society now that everyone should honour and respect their parents, but the simple fact is that he turned into a very nasty person in later years. And since his death I have been tasked with sorting through his papers and estate, and unfortunately it has only worsened my opinions of him. (I must also apologize here to those individuals who liked him. My father liked to make himself look good, and to a lot of people he was helpful and supportive. But I can tell you from personal experience that if he saw a chance to profit from hurting those same people he would gladly take it.)

In processing his estate I learned that many of the events attributed to bad luck and misfortune over the past decades was in fact deliberate and malicious machinations by my father. We found half a million dollars missing from my mother's pension fund, and receipts for withdrawals he had made with forged documents. Letters from family members and friends had been intercepted and hidden. An old injury that still bothers me today was not treated properly at the time because I was a minor and he ordered the doctor to stop treatment - and when the doctor reported it to social services he used his influence with one of their managers to make the case go away. Two great summer job offers that I received were rejected without my knowledge. So were half a dozen acceptance offers to some really great universities. So were offers to move him into a carehome or long term care so that I could have some semblance of a life when I was twenty-one. While I was working two jobs to keep my parent's bills paid when my father had first had his stroke, he received insurance money that he gave away to a mistress. When my truck broke down on my way to graduate school years ago, it was actually due to him cutting the fuel line and making other alterations to my engine. When my car got stolen, he had actually paid the thieves to do it. When I was offered a great research position, he tore up the letter. (In fact some of the documents we have found are so odd that the most plausible explanation is genuinely that he committed multiple murders and blackmailed two police officers and a doctor into covering it up. It sounds bizarre and I know it seems unbelievable, but at this point it is the hypothesis that fits the facts the best).

Some people would say that I should move on, and I agree up to a point. In fact I did move on, and I have had a relatively good life since he died. Without him in the way I did manage to complete my doctorate, and I have worked on some exciting projects since then. But at the same time, there are some damages that can never be repaired. I will never again get to experience the joy of being a young college student, and nothing will ever restore the friendships lost when my father was threatening people with his collection of illegal handguns. Even now, ten years after his death I am still having to be responsible for the care of my mother and brother, who would have gotten treatment and most likely learned to live independently twenty years ago if my father had not destroyed their lives as well. Even in death the fall out from his reign of terror continues.

So many dreams and opportunities were lost due to his selfishness and greed. So many abuses could have been avoided if even one member of the hospital staff had stood up for what was right instead of what was convenient. 

I am not sad that my father died - only that it did not happen twenty years earlier. I can only hope that my story will inspire others to stop this sort of abuse early, and not to just look the other way because it is easier. Remember that every time you do a favour for a friend or a coworker, you might be hurting someone else. If my story stops even one abuser from destroying his children's hopes and aspirations, then it will (almost) have been worth the pain. 

And here's hoping that the next ten years are better than the last!