I found this place by accident and would like to get this off my chest. It may seem extreme in parts, but I wrote it while influenced by strong emotions.
I lost my dad when I was 18 months old. He was brutally murdered. My life and my mother’s was turned upside down. If he had lived, I would have been the son of a millionaire. Instead, we had to flee our country as the same men who killed my father were searching for his money and thought my mother knew where it was. They kidnapped my mother and threatened my life. We left with nothing and have lived in poor areas in the new country ever since.
Up until I was around 14, I was told that he died in a car accident. My mother later told me the truth and I later read newspapers from my old country which confirmed everything. I ended up repressing my emotions and acting out by misbehaving in school, fighting in and outside of school, hanging around with bad kids, and generally being a complete waste of space.
I had no father figure, other than my granddad who lived in another country, so I started looking up to men in my environment, who were not good role models to say the least. My mother later married a man in the new country, purely for the fact that we'd be allowed to stay in the country, as otherwise we would have been sent back. He had two sons already. The family dynamic was poisonous and fighting, both physical and mental, was commonplace. I never respected my step-father.
From the age of 17 to around 20, I went through a phase of drug use, partying, and general debauchery, which meant my studies were neglected.
I'm 23 now and I'm working on going back to school. Most days I think about my father, even though I have no living memories. All I know about him is what I've been told by others or have seen on photographs. I would give anything to just spend an hour with him to do typical father and son stuff. I would love to hear his voice and spend time talking and laughing, but alas it will never happen. I feel like my life has been stolen.
The men who killed him were his friends from childhood. He was shot from behind because his killer was too frightened to face him physically or to shoot him from the front. Perhaps he had some reluctance about murdering a childhood friend. Though my dad was a boxer and a weightlifter in the military and would have beat the man who shot him into a pulp. According to the newspapers, my dad tried to fight back after being shot, but was shot several times more and collapsed. His body was then dumped into a barrel of acid and then buried in a forest somewhere. I won't lie, I often think about revenge.
The men responsible were not imprisoned until 2009 as it required the police force from another city to reopen the case. The police from the city were all bought and paid for. I'm considering going to see the man who killed him in prison. I would like him to reveal where they hid his body, he was killed in 1993 and his body has still not been found. They refuse to reveal where they buried it. Maybe seeing the man who killed him in person will allow me to move on with my life. I would love to give him a proper burial, next to his father.
This is the first time I've revealed this to anyone and it definitely felt good getting it off my chest. I don't have anyone in real life to talk to about this, and as a man, I'm reluctant to display this side of me to others. Most people probably won't believe me, but here I am anonymous so it won't make a difference.
Two of my favorite pictures.
