I had a one horrible grandfather, and two others that were wonderful, thankfully.
My mother's father was a monster. Left people, children, a wife in his wake of drinking and neglect. Unfortunately, he lived on and off with us starting when I was a teenager until I was in my 30s. He was a nasty piece of work, who never had a nice word for anyone and just got more abusive the more he drank. HE took my stepfather's SIDE during my mom and his divorce, against HIS OWN DAUGHTER. The last time my mom moved in him, I told her outright, it is him or me. I will not live any more years with that nasty man. She always felt obligated to help him and off I went. For the life of me, I still can't understand her loyalty to such a monster. He was so abusive to my wonderful grandmother who withered under him. He would just take off and leave his 4 kids and my grandmother for years while they struggled to survive. She lived with us most of my youth and they never got a divorce. He left all the women in his life broken.
An example of daily rantings: my friend and I were laying on the bed reading poetry, he walked in and said "you're bitches and whores, both of you". We just looked at each other and laughed. I was in college, my parents lived in Scotland and left him in a house they had in Breckenridge, TX. So on holidays, etc. I would have to go there and stay in that house with him.
I do have one thing to thank him for ... he taught me was how to verbally defend myself against a bully. When I was around 16 or 17 he was giving me grief and calling me a whore, etc. I had a cast-iron skillet in my hand, I turned and stated if he ever spoke to me again, I would bash his head in and kill him. And from that moment on, he gave me a wide berth, exaggeratingly side-stepping to get out of my way and calling me "Miss Kim" ... and he kept this up until his death. I never sugar-coated my feelings about him.
I just read this obit, I thought, gosh, I would have loved to have written something like this for Woodrow Moreland. I hate to admit, but I do have a nasty, unforgiving side.
Obituary
Lawrence H Pfaff Sr. was born in Belmont, NY, on April 16, 1941. He passed away on June 27, 2022, living a long life, much longer than he deserved. He is survived by his three children, no four. Oops, five children. Well as of 2022 we believe there is one more that we know about, but there could be more. His love was abundant when it came to himself, but for his children it was limited. From a young age, he was a ladies' man and an abusive alcoholic, solidifying his commitment to both with the path of destruction he left behind, damaging his adult children, and leaving them broken.
Lawrence, Sr's hobbies included abusing his first wife and children. He loved to start projects but never followed through on any of them. He enjoyed the life of a bar fly for many years and had a quaint little living space, studio, above his favorite hole in the wall, the club Nashville.
Lawrence, Sr. did spend over 20 years in the NYPD, but even his time in service was negligent at best. Because of his alcohol addiction, his Commanding Officer took away his gun and badge, replacing them with a broom until he could get his act together.
Lawrence, Sr. did claim to be clean and sober for over thirty years, but never worked any of the twelve steps, including the eighth and ninth steps with his children, making amends. He possesses no redeeming qualities for his children, including the ones he knew, and the "ones he knew about.”
It will be challenging to miss Lawrence, Sr. because he was narcissistic. He was incapable of love. Lawrence, Sr.'s passing proves that evil does eventually die, and it marks a time of healing, which will allow his children to get the closure they deserve. Lawrence, Sr. can be remembered for being a father to many, and a dad to none.
Speaking of being nasty, did you hear this bit of good news: Trophy hunter who killed lions, elephants is shot dead. Riaan Naude, the 55-year-old head of Pro Hunt Africa, was found dead next to his vehicle in Marken Road, Limpopo. Cops said they have no motive yet.
2 comments:
At one point in his Life, I could have written this obit for my dad...minus unknown other children (he didn't even want the four he had)-- including the service in a Police Department. My Dad kept his gun and badge and was a sharpshooter. He drank. there were other women. And in his 60's he stopped. . I tried not to have much to do with him. But when he got sick, I took him in one time, and then went to live with him the second time. He left me everything he owned including a house and a brand new car in the garage with leather seats.. I still drive it.
I assumed he was making amends.... AA.
I remember at one point in my life, thinking I had the weirdest childhood ever. Sometimes feeling sorry for myself. Then I went to college and met all of these people with even more bizarre and tragic childhoods and thought ... mine sounded pretty tame in comparison! I wonder just how many people (kids) really get off unscathed from childhood?
Don't you think your experiences give you a certain sense of humor for survival? And that we learn some pretty basic stuff from these people? I can think about that now but it took me years to appreciate those lessons learned.
My paternal dad, who basically dumped me for his new family said to me a few years back, while we were driving around in his very old, albeit fancy car ... "Kimberly" (he always like to start out his statements to me like this), I am going to leave you this car so I know you will have something rely on. I was thinking ... no thanks, that can not make up for years of ignored. My husband laughed when I told him, having the same reaction, NO THANKS
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