May 6, 1999

Last night I didn't come home until 10:30. I was talking to my pottery instructor about religion and Christianity and before I knew it it was 10 o'clock. The whole conversation started when she asked me if she thought my dad(actually step-dad) would ever remarry. I told her over my dead body. The memories from the past gushed into my head and I found myself spilling my soul to this woman, telling of his emotional and psychological abuse. On several occasions he wished my mother to die, telling her how sickly and frail she was, calling her pitiful. More time than I can count he talked about how he would never remarry if they got divorced or she died because he would never be a three time loser. After Tim died he was better about what came out of his mouth, but he still said mean and cruel things to her. She probably would have left him if it had not been for insurance and the fact she had a terminal illness. After my mother died my sister and I found journals dating back to 1984 detailing the abuse he inflicted upon us as a family and on her. It was sickening, after reading through it I wanted to vomit. If he ever went to remarry, I told my instructor, I would hand the foolish woman my mother's journals.

I'm not saying my step-dad is this evil man, he is just sick. He sometimes got physically abusive with us kids, but he never did anything to my mother. God help him if he had. I feel sorry for him in away, he is lonely, unemotional, and quite ignorant. He is missing a part of his brain from where someone hit him with a lead pipe while he was in the military and from what I understand, he had some screw loose before then. I in no way excuse him from his behavior because he made the choices, and sometimes I am glad that he is sitting in that house alone, with all the memories, good and bad, feeling guilty about how he treated his children and his wife. He is the perfect grandpa though. Very good, sweet and kind plus generous when it comes to the grandchildren. Of course my sister and I or my sister-n-law would ever leave our children alone with him.

The conversation just developed more and more and before I knew it we were discussing different philosophies and theology. It is people like her who renew my faith in what it means to call someone Christian. She is a very earth based, spiritual woman who trusts and relies on God and the teachings of Jesus and tries to live a peaceful life. She reminds me a lot of my mother, except older and not a worrier. I really needed the "motherly" talk and it was nice to actually discuss with her my decision to leave the Christian religion. She never once condemned me or try to convinced me I was wrong, but told me to seek my own path, and listen to what the Spirit has to tell me.

On the way home, I had to pee. I was going to stop on the road and just do it but it was late and I was afraid some redneck would stop and catch me. Half-way home I stopped at a gas station and went to the bathroom. As I came out, the owner of the gas station was firing an employee for stealing. The woman was quite trashy looking and her big bubba boyfriend was just a cussing. I was going to get a peace offering to take to Jeff but thought I'd leave before the bubba got his shotgun, which I was convinced was hanging in the back mirror of his ford pickup.


Currently I am:

Listening to Billy McLaughlin's Fingerdance

Eating: Nothing Drinking: Bottled Water

Reading: Holy Blood, Holy Grail & The Women Around Jesus

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