I got black our drunk last Friday. That hasn't happened in a while! Poor M had to deal with basically a little baby. I tried to take my make up off about 5 times, kept telling him how my night was over and over again, and started crying for no reason. Good times.
My sister told me a couple of things. She remembered a few times when our dad would come into the dining room to eat and if he wasn't happy with the food, he'd make my mother get naked and would throw hot water on her. In front of all of us.
One time he pushed her out of a window. Another time he threatened to stick a fork in one of my sisters forehead.
It's all such a mess. Seven kids, six of them traumatized, one of them dead. What a great job they did huh? We never stood a chance. I hope they're okay deep down, because i know I'm not.
Gotta remember the good times, that's what t's all about.