Daddy's Struggle

May 27, 2011
I remember. I remember the thunderstorm. My father was that storm. Storming through the house. Upset, frightened was he. My father -my new father- began to remember day by day. The war swarming around in his head like nasty bees that just want to sting you.

This had been happening for a while, after we had moved in with him while Mom and him were dating for sometime. Nobody really thought he would become a thunderstorm -no- we thought he would just be rain. Two tours in Iraq had crushed him, but not his heart.

Father, he would hide in the closet, screaming that they were coming to get him. Who were “they”? “Get down!” he would yell every Fourth of July as the fireworks went off. To him, they rang in his ears like gunshots, awaiting to hit a poor soul. In restaurants, he had to sit facing everyone, for fear someone would attack him from behind. But, I think- wouldn’t you rather not see death coming your way? Wouldn’t you get hit anyway, but having to see it? I don’t understand. These were only a few things he would do. Too many odd things he would do that I didn’t understand. And maybe deep inside I didn’t want to understand.

My father would do these things, not often at all, but the bees in his mind kept swarming, stinging him more often. He began try to drink the pain away, but it didn’t seem to help. The bees were still there. The memories stung. My father began to isolate himself; he didn’t want us to see him suffering. I knew his heart was still there at that moment.

His spirit was fighting, but his body was giving up. We should’ve gotten him help sooner, or maybe the others who knew him before could have. We had known him only two to three years after the war, not right after. But how could no one notice?

Daddy snapped, screaming, pushing, torn apart inside. Scared, he raved and ranted. The bees’ stings had become way to painful. Father need help.



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Father is now okay, but still broken. The bees still swarm, but they are quieter, calmer. Then so is daddy. The daddy we love came back. But, the broken father is still there, trying to heal.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

catiecrosman16 said...
Jul. 2, 2011 at 12:00 am
Thanks.. it means a lot
 
changerswriter said...
Jun. 27, 2011 at 3:32 pm

I'm so sorry about this. But this is a great piece. Keep writing. Your metaphors are amazing.

 

 
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