Torn Apart

Our perfect little family had a lot of problems.  When my father found out he was sterile he felt this was his ticket to freedom.  Working with teens at the church he spent a lot of time talking and "counseling" young girls.  He spent many hours with them and although there was never any proof of wrong doing it was highly inappropriate.  He also began to have several affairs with a variety of women.

Now I don't want to give the wrong idea that my father was the only problem.  As with most couples it takes two to make a dysfunctional relationship.  My parents were both fighters.  My aunts would tell me that they both wore long sleeves a lot because they both had scratches and bruises on their arms and legs from the fights they would get into.  I remember that my mom had a lump on her head that she got from being thrown into the fireplace.  Their relationship from the beginning was volatile, they were constantly fighting and physically fighting.

When my mom found a hotel key in my dad's pocket that was the final straw.  They had a big fight and my dad left the house.  The biggest problem....my adoption was not final.  They had their final court appearance in just three days, and my mother feared that he would not show, and I would be returned to the adoption agency.  She woke up the morning of the court hearing, and ironed everyone's clothes in preparation for the hearing.  She pressed his pants and prayed that he would come home in time for the hearing.

My father came through the door in plenty of time for the hearing.  He kissed my mom and acted like nothing had happened.  Of course at the sound of his voice I went crazy until he came to pick me up and hold me.  I truly loved my daddy.  Our little family made our way to the court house to finalize my adoption.  We met my social worker on the steps to the courthouse.  She gave a resounding recommendation that I be placed with the loving family.  After the proceedings we took a picture of our family that was now complete along with my social worker.

The celebration was one of joy.  My maternal grandmother, and paternal grandparents were both there to celebrate the permanent addition to the family which was now complete.  It was a wonderful day in 1966 and the last day our family was whole.

The next morning my mother asked my father to leave.  He accused her of keeping him around just to get me, and she agreed.  The day after my adoption was final my family broke apart.  The turmoil that occurred within our home, became an event for the world to see.  For the next two years the household battle became a full-fledged war and the biggest casualties were my brother and I.  The two focused on their issues with each other and had no concern of what their actions would do to their children that they worked so hard to adopt and care for.