Grandpa became quite engrossed in his special interests. He would engineer and build things. Throughout his life, there was always that one close friend from Poland, who marginally spoke English, whom he palled around with. Gramps was friendly with his neighbors but spent most of his time out fishing or inside inventing. He adored his grand kids and oft one or two of them would spend weekends at their house.
My father, had one close friend for awhile. Then something nefarious and secretive transpired and he was alone....with his wife and all them damn kids. I don't recall him ever having a close friend again. Every year, I watched him grow quiet, sullen, distant and more intolerable of the outside world. He rarely speaks these days.
I sometimes wish all the incest, sexual and physical abuse never happened. We could sit and compare notes about our autism, how crazy the nts are and how we cope. But it will never happen. I see him and am flooded with painful remembrances and hurt feelings. I have little tolerance of being in the same room with him anymore.
I don't hate him. I hate no one. I have forgiven and moved on. But I wish not for the memories...so I don't go there.
Having Aspergers so rich in my biological family...gives me insight and pictures into possibilities for me. It is what it is.
