Epitaph for My Father

     The last time I talked to my mother, I asked her, out of the blue, if she had any idea if my father was still alive.

      “He emailed me and said that he was moving back to (his home state).  He asked me if I wanted any of his furniture.” 

       My father is going back to his home state to die.  There is no other explanation.  As shitty as my home town is, nobody in his right mind would leave it to go back to the place my father was born.  I can’t be too specific, but: think of the most backwards, knuckle-dragging state in the Union, that is also naturally ugly to boot. 

       “What did you tell him?”

       “I wrote him back one word: NO.”

       When she said that, I felt a distinct sense of pride.  I have had an eventful life, for good or bad, but liberating myself and my mother from him and his influence is one of my greatest achievements.  He was a strange and talented man, in some respects, and he gave me a high IQ and an appreciation of culture.  Ultimately, however, I can also say this about him: he contributed nothing but terror, misery, and financial distress to anyone who had a personal or even professional relationship with him.  I do not exaggerate. With the exception of the military and Peace Corps, he was fired from every job, abandoned by every friend, and disowned by every family member…including myself, who at one time loved him beyond morality.

      That is my epitaph for my father, Franz Adler. 

      I wonder who he is going to be staying with when he moves back to his home state.  He has to be doing this with help; he can’t afford to relocate on his own.  It has to be a distant relative, although we have almost none here in the US.  That, or a VA hospital. 

       Whoever they are, I would warn them if I could.  They are in for a very ugly surprise.  He can be nice for short periods of time, but he does not need human company, and, in the end, every relationship to him is a matter of exploitation or worse.  I’m sure that by this point he looks like a sad, broken-down old man, but he remains, at heart, a killer. 

       His newest victim(s) will discover this at their own expense. 

4 thoughts on “Epitaph for My Father”

    1. Where Vater is concerned, one thing is certain: SOMEONE is going to get ripped off or fucked up. He is a black hole of exploitation. And he’s a sadist. If he wasn’t a junkie and could have held it together emotionally, he would have been an excellent lawyer of some type, as his love of manipulation and lack of boundaries knows no bounds.

      But, he has no self-control. He’s a big ball of Id.

      For the life of me, I can’t figure out where the hell he’s getting help from (for the move back to his home). Can’t be a woman. It has to be a distant relative…but there are so few. Or a childhood friend. Or an institution that doesn’t know better, like VA.

      When I say that he’s burned every bridge, I mean it.

      I think that you are right, Craven: he’s going back to die, and to finish a job on someone from the past. After he bleeds em dry.

      Thank God he’s too pathetic and poor now to afford a gun.

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