Note from the Author
It is recommended this section be read after reading the book, as it contains
spoilers.
- • •
My earliest memory in life was from the age of two and a half years
old. My bedroom didn’t have a door and was covered by a sheet
nailed to the top of the door frame. I remember hearing my father
yelling, so I peeked out from the other side of the sheet just as my
father picked up our television and threw it at my mother, knocking
her down.
She divorced him before I turned three. Every memory beyond
that of my father was a good one. He never once lost his temper with
me or my sisters, despite having done so on numerous occasions with
my mother.
I knew their marriage was an abusive one, but my mother never
talked about it. To discuss it would have meant she was talking ill of
my father and that’s something she never once did. She wanted the
relationship I had with him to be free of any strain that stood between
the two of them. Because of this, I have the utmost respect for parents
who don’t involve their children in the dissolution of their
relationships.
I asked my father about the abuse once. He was very candid about
their relationship. He was an alcoholic during the years he was
married to my mother and he was the first to admit he didn’t treat her
well. In fact, he told me he had two knuckles replaced in his hand
because he had hit her so hard, they broke against her skull.
My father regretted the way he treated my mother his entire life.
Mistreating her was the worst mistake he had ever made and he said
he would grow old and die still madly in love with her.