Early memories

It was like looking up at a giant, dad was over 6'3, the largest hands you have ever seen and as a child if you didn't know he loved you so much you be very intimidated. Dark hair, dark skin, Elvis good looks.And of course a beautiful smile, and when he laughed, you had to laugh, you couldn't help it. Let's be honest, of course he wasn't perfect.  He drank everyday that I can remember as a child. He spent all the grocery money on alcohol or other women he may have been trying to impress.  He was married to my mom, his childhood sweetheart and probably the only women he ever truly loved, but he was young and unsettled, their union was a disaster, two children trying to play house and raise a family does not combine well with alcohol, multiple sex partners, and domestic violence. Now let's get something straight from the start. Dad NEVER put his hands on me or my sister in anger. I have only one memory of ever being spanked by my dad and I was about 12yrs. old and had stood up in the back of the pick-up, while driving down the highway. Myself as well as my sister, step-sister at the time and my adopted sister by my dads now new marriage were the targets. We got a firm look, a harsh word and a soft spat on the butt and you would have thought the world stopped spinning. Dad was not a spanker, he never yelled or judged or criticized you. He only offered his opinion if you asked for it. to me he was damn near perfect. Now granted, I know he wasn't, but as his daughter I looked at him different. I didn't care that he drank, or that he never paid his child support on time, or that my mom had to work two jobs just to feed my sister and I. I overlooked the fact that he was co-dependent and landed in bad relationships not wanting to be alone.Dad went from one bad situation to a horrible situation of deceit and betrayal, ending up with someone who used him until he had nothing left to give, until it killed him, while those of us who loved him can barely take our next breathe and the OTHERS who HE took care of for over 20+ years could barely force out a tear and were beating down the door of the life insurance company 2 days before his death. Am I bitter? You bet. Have I got some unresolved issues? Bet your ass. Am I hoping that writing this blog is the most therapeutic process in history? Yes, I am. But, the most important, is to pass on my own regrets, in hopes that someone else may not make the same mistakes. To share were I have failed, and to try to teach someone what to watch for when you are trying to trust someone to take care of the ones you love.