It all started off with this text message.
My writing frequency has been down the last few years, mostly due to the finger from hell, but it’s healing the best that it can. I can sort of use it for A’s and sometimes the S key, but for the most part it’s about as useful as a vestigial tail. Back to text messages though.
So I started going through what little grapevine I had left to see what’s going on. I had seen a photo of him not long ago, hair falling out, nearly bald. His skin looked yellowed and jaundiced. I could tell he was sick, but not what he was sick from.
For comparison, here is me and my magnificent frock of hair, with my gorgeous little dog, standing in front of a scene that supposedly never happened (I will detail this in my next blog post I promise)
For what though, do I remain angry at my father for? Do we need a list?
I realized the other day that other members of my family are reading, so let’s recap.
- Abuse – From the time I was 5 till 10, I was hit with a belt on a fairly routine basis, with increasing frequency as I got older. I’d be held on the top of my scalp by the hair as he hit me, sometimes he’d kick me, sometimes slamming my face into the wall as he screamed an near never-ending stream of vulgarities.
- He had a drug issue. He self admitted to me he cooked meth, and he gave it to my Uncle Vinces daughter to “help her lose weight” as some sort of warped chivalrous act. Vince found out, beat his daughter, came after my dad, my great grandfather tried to swing at him as well, there was some story that my dad swung back at my great grandfather (something my father denied, but apparently there were witnesses) At some point my dad provided me with DMSO he stole from his job (Alza) to help the bruising go away sooner. He’d try it again with me when I was 15.
- He blames everyone around him for his entire life being shit. It’s my moms fault for “having a kid” or he didn’t get a degree “Because you were born” This had an adverse affect of family looking down on me.
- He continued doing this my entire life, well into adulthood. It didn’t stop. When torch lighters were new I thought, “Oh that’s a neat way to light my cigarette” but my father turned to the family saying, “That’s a crack lighter, Robert is smoking crack” It wasn’t until I met my wife and mother in law that I stopped believing I was as bad as he and the rest of the family painted me out to be.
- He refused to show up to my wedding. We had a small spat about 9 months prior to my wedding. I told him don’t come, but later apologized and asked him to come. He refused. I begged, my wife begged, my mother in law begged, my grandmother begged. Didn’t even phase him. At least my uncles (his brothers) were there.
- He aided my Uncle Karl in trying to take advantage of my grandmother when she got dementia. Things disappeared from the house. At one point he asked me if I took some pistol from her house, I didn’t. Apparently he gave it to her so she could “protect herself” The pistol would later show up when she pointed it at my uncle and told him to GTFO. Instead of taking responsibility for a pistol he gave to a woman with dementia, he instead started telling everyone I must have given it to her.
That’s a pretty decent list of things, not counting all the crap I’ve blocked out of my head over the years. All the behaviors I’ve had to stop myself from repeating on my own children. All the behaviors my wife has had to tell me, “Rob, you’re acting like your father”
It cut deep.. In me lives him, his rage, his methods for “Solving” problems. I get physically sick thinking about it.
One kudo I give my wife and her family is giving me the strength to cut the Cortese’s off. There’s been times I tried going back, but every time I realize that it’s the same old shit over and over. They all knew of the abuse I went through, they all had their own abuse from their own parents, but instead of learning from it, or standing up to it, they all fecklessly allowed it to happen over and over again.
Not me though..
His largest narrative has been how I don’t have my life together, yet here I sit in the prime of my career at 52, when he stopped working professional at 36. Which brings me to the first thing I found out about all this.
I give you the tax details for parcel 111-132-050-000 owned by none other than Rick Cortese.
Defaulted taxes of $27,576.73. That does not include the $5,101.32 due for this year.
Here’s the funny thing, before he moved to Shelter Cove my wife and I took a vacation there to check it out. This would have been 4th of July Weekend 2020. Here’s a few photos I took.
It’s not the kind of place you’re going to survive if you have cancer and you don’t have some sort of external source of income. Is it gorgeous? Yes. It’s also extremely isolated. Maybe one of the most isolated towns in the state.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to him at this point, he was a monster when I knew him. He was a monster as a parent. He’s shifted his life around so he’s as alone and as isolated as he can be. Like an animal, he’s gone off to the woods to die by himself in some misguided sense of nobility. I could never do that, but then again I’ve spent my kids lives loving them, being their dad, being their friend and being there for them. I haven’t spent it pushing them away to this point.
I even told my wife, “I should go up there and talk to him” when she reminded me, “Rob, he’ll probably shoot you” and I remembered… I remembered when I was 15 and he kicked me out. Mike Dutcher got his girlfriend to drive us up there so I could get some of my things. He stood on his porch, 30 feet above the road below and told us, “I’m gonna get my gun”
I guess I write this stuff so I can process it. So I can share with others why it’s affected me. My son’s walked by a few times tonight asking what I’m writing about, making typing motions with his hands because I type so fast, even with the goblin finger.
When that day comes where I am dying, I don’t want to be alone. I want to be surrounded by those that love me, not just for my benefit, but for theirs. Even though my father was a monster growing up, even though I am powerless to stop his life from swirling down the drain, I can’t exactly take joy in this moment, but I can’t take pity on him either.
I’m so sorry dad… but you brought this on yourself. Can’t blame a single person but yourself.