What A Woman REALLY Loses When She Loses Her Daddy (Updated June 11, 2011)

June 11, 2011 at 6:24 AM

With Father's Day just around the corner, I figured it was time to sit down and re-read through this special piece and update it a bit. Please note that you are reading from 2009. Updated information is indicated.

The original can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=120168433408.

Warning: some material contained is GRAPHIC, shocking and NOT for the faint of heart. But, it is the truth as I know it. It's not in full, this merely touches the surface. Other Notes I have written on FB intertwine with this one to fill in a lot of, but not all, of the history.

Original composition date: Thursday, July 23, 2009 at 6:06 PM:

On June 21, 2009, I logged onto FB like any other Sunday. And then I logged off. So why did I, a total Facebook-A-Holic (just like the rest of you), abandon FB that day? It was FATHER'S DAY.

At no time in my whole 40 years on Earth do I ever recall having an internal, emotional reaction on Father's Day like I did this year. I'm still not even sure why, maybe it was the glut of Father's Day posts, I really don't know. But I did do a hell of a lot of thinking over the course of that day.

Your story is never going to be exactly the same as mine if you've lost your dad. It will never be the same as mine because those of us who have lost our dads lost them to different situations and at different ages. But, that day I wondered how much I may have missed because he wasn't here. Ever wonder what you really missed after he was gone?My father was viciously murdered, shot to death, by his step-brother on February 21, 1973. He would have been 27 years old less than a month from that date. That was also the day before my 4th birthday. I've been told the step-brother was an overly sensitive, milquetoast type of guy. And I've been told that my father had kind of a wise ass sense of humor. I suppose, on that particular evening, those two things just didn't mix well. Left behind were a wife and two young children.

The stories I heard when I was younger was that my father was just out of the Army after serving his country during the Vietnam-Era. I have his military records that confirm it. I don't know how they met but my parents got married right around early 1967. In February of 1969, I came along and 13 months later, my brother was born. I'm told that my dad was a commercial painter and worked all over the city.

So this past Father's Day 2009, I replayed my life and inserted what I thought life would be like if he wasn't taken away, in some cases by identifying what was lost after he was gone.

My biological mother went completely insane. Her grief sent her into a downward spiral that to this day has never stopped spinning. Drugs like booze and cigarettes and even pot were common back then. But she spiraled out of control and drank, smoked pot, popped pills, snorted cocaine and shot up heroin. She became a drunk and a junkie. She's never recovered.

I don't believe for a second that my father would have allowed anything more than what was socially acceptable at the time and I highly doubt he would have allowed things like "works" and needles into his home where his young children were present. Had he lived, my biological mother may have never crossed that line.

And then came the violence. My biological mother became a heinous abuser of her children. Inflicting violence on the very offspring that came from the man you loved and grieved for never made any sense to me. Still doesn't. We were both smacked, kicked, punched, stabbed, slapped, burned and beaten mercilessly without warning. I even got shot. The bullet grazed my belly so I was lucky I guess. The "pop" of the gun that wasn't meant for me was more noisy than painful. Had my father lived, discipline would have been no more than maybe a spanking.

I lost a mother.

With my father gone and my biological mother out of control, the strange bed fellows were frequent. My brother and I spent a lot of nights at my grandmom's house. But, it didn't matter where we were. At home, after passing out from her drunken stupor, those strange men entered my bed in the dark of night and did things no child should ever know about at that young age.

While at my grandmom's house, my grandfather and one of my uncles living in the house also sexually assaulted me over and over. Had my father lived, none of these strange men would have come around and if my grandfather and uncle had still done what they did and my father found out? My grandfather would not have lived until the early 1990's and my uncle would not be alive today.

I lost my innocence.

I got good grades in school. I was supposedly smart. Smart enough to be sent to Masterman from 5th grade to 9th grade. At the end of 5th grade, we came home from school to a padlocked door. The rent was not paid.....again. My brother and I walked to our grandmom's house. Great. Now what? My stay there was short and I was old enough to stay away from my grandfather and uncle but I was removed from all of that and went to live with my aunt mother (my biological aunt and legal mother via adoption).

She did a fine job raising me after detoxing me from the drugs I was given often and my singing talent was already known. She took me to church on a regular basis. My hair grew back. I got my ears pierced. I got clean clothing, I got fed breakfast, lunch and dinner (my brother and I used to go for days with no food). I got presents for Christmas and my birthday. I was taken to the dentist and the doctor for check-ups. And while I was extremely active and my confidence was a little better, I was extremely shy around boys. My hormones suddenly activated and all of the sudden, there were boys I liked being around. The teasing I endured at Masterman was hell on Earth already and now I had to talk to boys?

I lost the man who would have been the best advisor and I probably would not have been teased (or perhaps not to the same degree) were it not for starting out at Masterman dressed like a dirt bag. Oh, my body was always clean but my biological mother would not buy us new clothing. She'd just pick out junk from a local thrift store. I wouldn't see new clothing until moving in with my aunt mother. And my hair didn't grow back until I was already there for a year.

I lost my dad's lap to sit on to ask about boys and my protection from bullies.

In 9th grade, I was selected to audition for this special high school. A place where I could learn to become a singer I was told. In 10th grade, I entered the High School for the Creative and Performing Arts (CAPA). During the summer in between Masterman and CAPA, I grew taller, my body grew around my chest and I'd developed a few curves. My hair was long and styled, my clothing was in style for the times. Not all the fancy labels but up to date. And I learned how to wear make up.

I was terrified on the first day at CAPA. I sat in the auditorium next to two girls I would come to know as Susan Donnelly and Janice Barclay. They just talked to me. Because of how we were seated they knew I was a singer just like them. And they were as friendly as friendly could be. It was a new building for them too and having seen where the school was housed before, we basically chattered about what the building we were in was like.

I spent the rest of the day finding my locker, finding my classrooms and bopping around with my best friend Lorna who also came to CAPA from Masterman. It was wildly different. Punk hair, blue hair, spiked hair, leather jackets, chains, ripped jeans, dance tights, guys who wore makeup, and every other possible type of dress under the sun was all under one roof. I got to sing that day. In three periods of classes too.

My father never heard me sing, not once, not ever.

I had crushes on boys. One boy in particular too. For years, right up until today, I would be his friend. Update: we are still friends today. Senior year came. I'd made a name for myself and had a decent rep. I'd experience performing in places I would have never imagined. My confidence was off the charts. I was never teased and I had no enemies (none that I know of anyway). And then what should have been one of the biggest rites of passage for me came along: my Senior PROM.

I knew exactly who I wanted to go with. I think EVERYBODY knew who I wanted to go with. Well, he never asked me and even with all of the confidence in the world I still couldn't bring myself to ask HIM. I never went to my prom, the one I wanted to go with asked another girl...same name, different spelling...and I spent the night of my prom with my best friend Lorna. Surely if my father had lived, I would have had the prettiest purple dress, probably a limo to take me there, my hair all done up pretty and ready to dance the night away with my chosen date.

But, I'd lost my dating advisor. There was no dress, no pretty hair, no limo and no date. So, I also lost my rite of passage.

My father would not see me graduate from high school ranked 10th in my class, the winner of two scholarships and the Outstanding Vocalist of the Year Award with full acceptance to study Opera at UCLA. I never even got to UCLA because we couldn't afford to send me there.

I went on to college at Penn State. I did well there. I was engaged to be married, we split up, I dated, I partied (never touched an illegal drug), I sang, I studied, I worked. I was the FIRST person in my family to graduate from college. My father would not see me graduate college either. Had he lived, instead of a degree in Administration of Justice from Penn State, I'd probably have one in Music Performance, Voice concentration, from UCLA. 

Update: as far as I know, I am STILL the first person in my family to graduate from college. None of my cousins on my father's side of the family graduated earlier than 1992 and I don't know if my aunts and/or uncle attended or graduated from college.

The rest is harder to guess. I'd become an independent young woman with a brain and a mind of her own. Would I have met the idiot who would become my first husband? I don't even enjoy giving him the title of "husband" even though it's preceded by "EX-."

Had my father lived, I probably would have known what the red flags were sooner than later.

I do still believe I would have met Kevin. My father would be 5 years older than him. But I do believe my father would have approved of him with a huge gold star and a big, red bow! I believe he would have walked me down the aisle, my biological mother, sober and proud, already seated in the pew to my left. My father would have loved Kevin's parents (R.I.P.), especially Kevin's father.

Update: I still believe that my biological mother would have been a sober woman had my father lived. Today, she is still a drunk and a junkie. She did 5 years in Muncy for Manslaughter, was paroled, served 5 years of clean and sober probation and the day after it was up, she was right back in it.

Had my father lived, I might be famous. He might have had grandchildren. With no insane widow to kick the shit out of me, my reproductive system might have developed correctly and Kevin and I might not have had any problems with conceiving and I probably wouldn't have had any problems carrying those babies to term.

My father was a Catholic-Christian man who served his country, lived a clean life, worked hard, got married, had children and was only getting started on the rest of his life and it was flushed out in a fraction of a fraction of a second over what amounted to nothing but a silly joke spoken in front of the wrong, young and stupid idiot who probably never thought of anybody but himself. Update: as far as I know, this is still correct information. I'm still working to learn the full story. I could get a copy of the police report and read it. But, that man is named and I do NOT want to know his name.

I have never visited my father's grave. I want to but there is no head stone there and I can't find the only living relative I know he has: his sister (and my aunt) Christine. She had to bury him and I cannot find her to negotiate placing a proper marker on the site where he was laid to rest. I am still searching for her.

Update: Aunt Tina (Christine) has been found and is wonderful. She has two beautiful children (my cousins), Jason and Lucille. 

There is also my father's only brother, Vincent. He has three beautiful daughters, Brittany, Michelle and Nicole. 

I have an Aunt Roxane (Brittany's mom) who has been a God appointed angel. 

My Aunt Vicky passed away a while ago and there is an Aunt Patsy as well.

My paternal grandmother for who I am named, Theresa (Gorski) Casper, passed away in a fire before I was ever born. I've also learned I'm 1/4th Polish.

My paternal grandfather, John Casper, passed away from a heart attack at 57 years old. And, I'm 1/4th Lithuanian.

I'm looking forward to meeting ALL of them real soon.

If YOUR father is still alive, even with all of his faults or problems and issues, honor him. Cherish him. Find something positive about him to embrace.

So, what does a woman REALLY lose when she loses her Daddy? She loses her best admirer, her biggest crush that becomes second only to the man she marries. She loses her protector, her provider and her biggest fan.

And, she loses a piece of her own soul. That piece of her soul will only be replaced when she goes to meet him someday and he's there to place it back in the hole left in her heart.