I look desperately into your eyes, looking for the brown of your iris, looking for you, but you’re not there.  Your eyes have gone black, soulless, and I know that the man that I have called Bubbi since I could talk is gone.  I know that I have to watch my step, speak as little as possible, and stay out of range.  I know that if I come near you, you will break, and I will be at the end of your drunken fury yet again.  And I also know no matter what I do, it is going to happen.  There is no stopping you when you are not there.  The kind, loving person that you once were is drowning, swimming in a pool of beer, cigarettes and hatred.  Once upon a time, I ran into your arms for a hug.  I would wait until 4 in the morning for you to come home from work, just so that I could feel safe in your strong arms.  Those times are gone now.  You are a shell of a person; the poisons that you consume day in and day out have leached the very life from your body.  You are no longer the able bodied army sergeant that you once were.  You barely eat, locking yourself in the basement with your demons.  But you are strong, strong enough to strangle, to hit, your fists go through walls and flesh.  Your words are venom.  You feel smart when you call us stupid, bitch, good for nothing, idiot.  These words issue from your lips as though saying them makes you a man.  Your jealousy show through that I can read and you cannot.  Anything I do right is expected, but anything I do wrong does not go unpunished.
I remember the good times, climbing mountains, camping, fishing, laughing.  The time you tried to teach me to drive when I was six and couldn’t reach the pedals.  I remember the time you woke me up super early so that we could sit on top of a mountain and watch the sun rise over the city.  I remember the night you woke me up at midnight on my birthday while we were camping so that I could see the three glowing waterfalls cascading down against the pitch black cliff.  I still see the full moon reflecting and sparkling in the noisy roar of water.  You tried to teach me to fish, but I got bored, and just played in the dirt while you fished.  I did love to help you clean them once we got them home.  I remember going to the video store and picking out anything we wanted to watch, then getting it home and sitting back while watching it.
But I also remember your dark moods.  The screaming at me to be quiet so you could sleep, for christ’s sake you work at night to put food in my fat mouth.  The blaming me for not being able to get my mother a Mother’s Day present and telling her it was my fault, my fault and that I made her cry.  I couldn’t tell her it was because you had promised to take me shopping the day before and had smacked me when I tried to wake you up, even though you had told me to.  I remember the hand print that you left on my thigh when I told you to please stop tickling me.  You stopped tickling, you started hitting.
I am left with the bittersweet memory of you.  The night you picked me up by the throat and threw me across the room because I had embarrassed you in front of your friends.  You were sorry afterwards, as usual.  We went out for a midnight run, finding an old soccer ball which we kicked to the basketball court and used to play hoops.  
And I remember that dreadful night when, at the age of thirteen, I had to become an adult.  I risked my life to save my mother’s because you had finally lost your mind.  You strangled her, and held a loaded 9mm to her head.  I had to get you away from her, and I had to get her to the hospital, even though you wouldn’t let us take the cars.  I couldn’t drive anyway.  It was a long 2 mile walk there though, she was so sure you were going to come after us.  The last time I saw you, you were being led away in handcuffs by two police officers while my mother sat crying as they took pictures of her already bruising neck, of the scratches you left on her.  The last time I heard your voice, it was on the answering machine begging my mother to pick up the phone on a collect call from jail.
You still call every once in a while.  Maybe on a birthday, though you never even sent a card.  Usually your call was to beg for the child support that you owe us not to be taken from you and your new wife and children.  Nothing more.  You have a new life and I hope you are happy.  Because I also have a new life.  And I am very happy.