Struggle(d) chapter 1 part 2

So, my father was a big time partier once upon a time. Well, he had lots of inspiration and I’ve heard stories that grandpa himself was quite the alcoholic. He was in a family with nine children. He was taught to be tough and tense. That and the fact that in his birth chart alone there was six virgo alignments. I know, I shouldn’t have even done his chart but it beckoned me. Quite an intense mix no matter how you sliced it. He was a force. He could light up entire rooms or shatter peoples dreams depending on his FEELINGS. One minute he would be totally at ease and wonderful and the next catastrophic moment would have him screaming and being a complete jerk. In between these times we would recover as a family. Or rather, the rest of us who faced his latest verbal or physical onslaught would recover. He would be silently plotting his next thing to be super pissed about.

He did have something so uncommon about him though. Some magnetic personality. He could almost summon the world to bow to his foolish wishes on occasion. He would draw people the same way a headlining concert tour act does. He just had that charisma. He had that zest around others. We, were kind of like Steve Jobs kids who had this awesome dude in the world, changing everything around him but his children and family took a backseat to that. He had common sense, and drive. Well, he did HAVE drive at least until a fateful day involving him and a motorcycle.

Some say he was drinking at the bar before hopping on his motorcycle for home or the next party. Some say he was stone cold sober. Some make up wildly imaginative stories that make no sense. Then some just get to witness him in the hospital and the disasterous consequences thereafter. But good things do come of this story. It just takes awhile to dig them out. So road construction plus a motorcycle and plus a possible slight inebriation equals one crazy wreck. It also equals a big probability of some part being paralyzed. In his case, he wound up losing the use of his legs.

Now, some people would have listened to the doctor and properly cared for the freshly damaged limbs, but my father would have none of that crap. Oddly enough, this was probably where his rebellion against doctors and nurses came from. But after being released from the hospital, after they did what they could to patch things up, fix his face and heal him up, he decided to say a big screw you to the doctor. He had friends take him out on the river where he would be gone way past his allowable limit. Some say intentionally. Some say out of some mental shift, and some say he was coping. No matter what way you slice this pie though, he really did some damage out of the hospital. It was more of a screw you to himself. Had he thought perhaps more like a person mourning, and less like a total nutbag, he may have recovered some use of his legs. Maybe not.

This is where God’s grace came in. I’m not sure that my mother, sister or I would have remained alive had it not been him being injured. Im not mad anymore about it just coming to grips with it. He probably would have killed us. I don’t even think he wanted to intentionally. Just something dark always resided in him as in all of us. His was visible periodically on the surface while ours stays covertly hidden. We are all flawed but some make the decision to go forward and correct some of them. Some make their flaws a momentous mountain out of a molehill and make others suffer for them. Again, my dad was a good man trying to do the right things in a world that so desperately wants to punish that periodically. So, looking back, I gleam a lot of good this man did. Especially outside the home. Inside the home? Not so much.

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