When I was about 9 or so, my then step father began having an affair with my mothers’ younger cousin. Our family has been divided ever since. Around that time, he had also begun to use and sell drugs out of our home and was directly involved in my childhood best friends’ father being murdered, as a result. The bullet that pierced a close family friends’ skull and killed him, was actually meant for *Richard (for this post I’ll call him Richard) who had asked said friend to make a run for him, fearing that “a deal” wasn’t right and that there might be danger. He’s done his fair share of dirt, to say the least. I remember riding to school with him one morning after he’d had an argument with my mother over God knows what, and him driving so recklessly that he caused an accident. For a long time after that I was afraid to ride in a car. Literally shaking and holding on for dear life on my way to elementary school. Well, he found some lawyers for us who insisted that we go to their doctor. So every day after school I went with him to a chiropractors’ office and laid on a “massage” table for about 30 minutes. That was therapy. When the case was finally settled years later in our favor because of my testimony, I was issued a check for $500. He was issued one for much more. That’s about the time when he opened his first business.
Anyway, he ended up marrying my mothers’ cousin and cheating on her for years with other women, until early this month when he suddenly had a stroke. My divided family is split between shock and fate. Some of them cannot believe this has happened to him. Others are of the opinion that it makes perfect sense that it happened to him, given his past and his present lifestyle. He’s in his early 50s, in a wheel chair, and helpless. His sister says that he’s crying every day, that one of the caregivers at the rehab facility accidently dropped him and he fell flat on his face causing him to have a black eye and busted lip. I pity him. I wouldn’t wish what he’s going through on my worst enemy. This reminds me of the movie “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” which was a fantastic portrayal of someone essentially living in their head, unable to talk, to scream, or even to feed themselves. What I feel for Richard’s situation isn’t joy; it’s what I’d imagine watching the devil get dragged to Hell feels like. To me, it’s fitting.
2 comments:
*shakes head* these things seem surprising to me and then again not so much so when looking at the bigger picture. What you do to someone always comes back to you triple fold. My mother used to tell me this all of the time. I hope he has the support to get through his demise though...
unfortunately, his support is very scarce. His wife is timid and not very bright and no one else in his fam has any clue how to best help him. if they're even interested in helping him. he's burned many bridges.
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