Growing Up (9), a true kind of short love story

(continued from part 8)

Epilogue

The next few months, many things happened that changed our family and, of course, my own life - forever.

My second youngest sister moved out, and shortly after, my 17-year-old baby sister also left for a small flat. My mother frequently mentioned that she would leave once her responsibilities of raising her children were complete, and with the assistance of one of her daughters, she did just that and moved out. She had years to prepare and felt it was justified to leave, taking all the money and financial resources, emptying the bank accounts as compensation for the time she dedicated to her children. After she left, she filed for divorce within a few days.

When my father came back from a tour that day, he found an empty apartment and asked me, as the last child remaining, about my mother. I told him she had moved out and taken as much as she could with her. He didn't even ask for reasons or details; he knew that his alcoholism was a key factor in this tragic story of a broken family and ruined lives. Despite being dirty and exhausted, he just went to the bank to 'borrow some money to survive,' as he put it. My father knew the branch manager through my mother and had a stable income, so money was the least of his worries.

It was the first time in my 21 years that we had the opportunity for some private time together, but he showed no interest in making up for lost time or in me at all. He carried on with his daily routines as if nothing had changed, although I could tell he was hiding a lot inside. Despite his strong physique from working as a truck loader, his words and actions had become very slow and too careful. As I remember, he always struggled to speak - but now he fought to find the right words, too afraid of inflicting even more harm.

A few weeks later, I told my father that I had found a place and would move out within the next few days. When his reaction was, 'You want to leave me too?', I could finally notice some emotions in his eyes, but too much damage had been done.

Our relationship was never easy, as he was rarely home and, throughout my life, he never showed even a grain of genuine interest in me or my activities. Forgotten birthdays were just one simple example. We lived under the same roof but led separate lives and had nothing in common; from his side, he was never open to sharing, and except for his secret girlfriends and alcohol, he actually had no obvious interests or hobbies. Most fathers would try to connect to their sons by talking about football, history, politics, or life in general, but he never tried. His political view was that "we need a new Hitler to destroy Germany, which we have worked to build up," and I could never relate to extremism solving daily hurdles.

Already in my 60s, I enrolled in the 'Basics of Psychology' course online at Yale University (USA). There it became clear that 'boys look to their fathers for guidance and as a behavioral model in the world and in relationships.' Fortunately, as a young boy, I realized early that my father wasn't someone to emulate, which was not only very sad but a very hard pill to swallow. But, looking back, it saved me a lot of time hunting for an invisible and wrong rock to lean on and from even more disappointments later on. As I grew older, I chose other role models without very close or personal connections, without letting them know, and mostly learned through experiences; I kept what made sense to me and discarded what contradicted my own Christian values and everything that seemed unreal or just plain stupid. Even though it seemed a daunting task for a very young boy to find a way in life on his own, I try to keep true to myself on the foundation of the Bible, the promises of God:

"24 The Lord bless you and keep you, 25 the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; 26 the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.'"

Parting ways with my father was a change I was expecting since I could think. Despite the pain, I felt a profound relief in being able to breathe freely without the fear of intimidation and mental and physical abuse - the first time in my life!

I have a dream, a song to sing

To help me cope, with anything

If you see the wonder, of a fairy tale,

You can see the future, even if you fail

I believe in angels,

Something good in everything I see

I believe in angels,

When I know the time is right for me

I cross the stream, I have a dream

I have a dream, of fantasy

to help me through reality

And my destination, makes it worth the while

Pushing through the darkness, still another mile

I believe in angels

Something good in everything I see

I believe in angels

When I know the time is right for me

I cross the stream, I have a dream

I cross the stream, I have a dream

ABBA, I have a dream

After I moved out of the apartment, my father received a letter from the government stating he was no longer eligible to live in the social housing. He was instructed to renovate the apartment for the next family, which meant he had to move out. One of his girlfriends had just inherited a house from her father, offering my father a chance for a fresh start. Initially enthusiastic about being an active part of the household, he soon reverted to his old habits of alcoholism, laziness, and poor hygiene, deteriorating visibly before my eyes. His black hair turned gray overnight, and his skin took on a dark yellow hue. His third wife passed away a few weeks before him, and he died at the relatively young age of 68, alone after having destroyed three marriages and fathered six children that I know of!

It was hard to forgive the one who destroyed my childhood and my youth, someone who made me feel like I was an orphan without a father, feeling ashamed to be his son. I had to face and climb the huge mountains of life by myself with a bag full of mental and physical abuse holding me back in whatever I did. I tried to work on it and finally found the strength to forgive him.

After his death, I encouraged my three sisters to do the same as me, but too much damage was done. All of them refused to pay their share of the gravestone as a final chance of reconciliation not only for themselves but for their own families. But they chose not to have anything to do with him. I faced anger and insults for even calling, which destroyed the last straw of the relationship between us children. By paying for this gravestone, I found inner peace and a lot of strength to move forward without anger and hate. In my prayers, I thanked God that He let me see or realize and that He was with me the whole time.

A new chapter in my life

The new apartment I relocated to was actually not far away from my home with my parents. It was in the basement of a single-family house, my rent contributed to covering a portion of their mortgage. Since it was furnished, I managed to save some money.

Living alone, I realized how much I had to learn. I bought a simple bucket with an engine as a washing machine and washed the first time my clothes. Germans eat a lot of bread and fridge was a part of the equipment of the apartment. It took me three attempts to cook the potatoes correctly and only two tries for the noodles.

After living there for six months, I received my draft notice from the German Army for military service starting in January 1995. Wanting to travel one month before, I quit my job at the Volkswagen/Audi/Porsche dealer and enjoyed some sunshine in Thailand.

Over the next 15 months, I not only learned to maintain my equipment, manage my firearm, and defend my country as a German soldier, but I also met some other remarkable young men. I would say that I gained a lot of knowledge and experienced significant personal growth during this time in my life.

Following my 15 months service, I worked in different jobs to save money for traveling. However, things didn't unfold as expected, leading me back to Germany where I relocated to Mannheim to live with my older sister. I found employment as a typist for the US Army and traveled once more to the Far East. After spending time in Thailand, Burma, and Hong Kong, my funds dwindled, and I visited my final destination, Taiwan. On Orchid Island, I met a very kind and intriguing young woman.

Upon returning to Germany, I landed a position at a photo wholesaler. One day, my sister phoned to let me know that someone from England was attempting to reach me. It turned out to be the girl from Taiwan, who was visiting her sister in England. We met again and discovered that, despite our different upbringings, we shared many similarities like her mother died when she was very young and my father did not care about me.

In the summer of 1989, just before the Berlin Wall came down, I chose to leave Germany and move to Taiwan. Although it might seem straightforward, it was actually a significant risk. I was unfamiliar with the history and culture and didn't speak Chinese. Yet, I felt confident enough to begin a new chapter in my life with only 500 Euros in cash, a backpack with a few essentials and clothes, and, of course my childhood teddy bear.

With the help of my wife's sister, I found a job at a trading company, got married in 1990, and became a father two years later. After being deceived by the company to which I had contributed significantly, I established my own business in 1993. Except for a break from 1998 to 2001, Taiwan has been my home ever since. Despite experiencing many painful and negative events during my childhood, I can say that I built a loving and functional family, became a good husband, and a responsible father. I accomplished this without compromising my personal interests such as cycling, photography, writing, and even serving as a pastor for the homeless for 2 1/2 years. In my 50s, I earned a diploma from a Christian seminary and completed my first short-distance triathlon. At the start of my 60s, I studied 'Basics of Psychology' online at Yale.

I credit the success of my personal life story to various factors, primarily steering clear of my father's alcoholism and my mother's Nazism, along with all the unhealthy and selfish aspects associated with them. From a very young age, my parent's negative examples helped me recognize harmful habits and blind beliefs developed out of ignorance and frustration.

(to be continued)