Posted: May 29, 2013 in Art, journal, Women
Tags: , , , , ,

No darkness is so dark to win over the light, no hindrance has the worth to face a soul so bright.” Senora Roy —


Dark Vision-©2003- graphite on paper, 25x30 cm (10x12)

Dark Vision-©2003- graphite on paper, 25×30 cm (10×12)

The Story Begins.

My mother use to tell me “If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all.”    So, as a compromise to that idiom, I will start with his best qualities.

He was incredibly charismatic, brilliant in many aspects of the art of making deals, innovative, highly creative, and intuitive. Afraid of nothing and no one. Men respected him, feared him, women adored him. He had the classic features of his generation, that David Niven/Earnest Hemingway look. He had dash, flair and style, cultivated and perfected without equal. The fact it was all an illusion meant nothing, the core him would never be seen by anyone save a select unfortunate few.

As a child my grandmother said he had “the sickness”.  Nothing viral, something more insidious…he had faulty genes, a glitch in his matrix.  He had no empathy.  The strong fists of his older brothers, and even stronger dominion of his eldest sister tempered his inbred anger, violence and radical mood swings.  He hated but respected his father. A gentle, quiet, intellectual of a man who always looked the other way and left family matters and the raising of their 9 children to his wife, a loveable and gregarious woman, who’s love for anything and everyone knew no bounds.

As he grew older his faults became re-defined into a lack of conscious between right and wrong, he was a-moral, clothed in a narcissist personality clouded by his brilliance and charisma. He bordered on genius. People only saw the shine when he entered a room, hung on his every word, believed anything he said, did anything he asked.  He was a con, a pirate, ferociously loved and hated simultaneously by all who knew him.  His immediate family complained about his actions, but always forgave him, giving him silent permission to carry on without any need of correction. He never suffered the consequences of his actions; there was always a rescue.  No one could deny him.

He went from rags to overwhelming wealth so many times it almost became legend. He provided for himself first. When he married and had children the same principle applied, whatever was left went to his family. He was an alcoholic who beat his wife into submission verbally and occasionally physically. He had a gift of words and he used them as a weapon to coerce, demean, and diminish anyone blocking his path; public humiliation was his forte.   Rarely he used words for praise, and when he did, you could not shine brighter as you bathed in the light of his vibration, but that too was a dual edged sword. He was the royal king of all he surveyed; his wife and his children were his property, their purpose to serve without question.  Three of my four siblings escaped his physical, sexual and mental abuse. The first because she was his favorite, his princess. The other because she was the princesses’ servant and protected by her shadow and the third because she was a female clone of him, a sociopath, and could do not wrong.

Everyone who knew him knew him for his cunning, his talent, his unlimited abilities, his twisted form of love.  They also knew his cruelty, his problems, his abusive nature.  No one dared to stand up to him, no one ever dared question him least they suffer the consequences of his retribution.

He was never called father, papa or daddy.  He was always Capitán.




  1. Howard says:

    Hi! Would you mind if I share your blog with my myspace group?
    There’s a lot of people that I think would really enjoy your content. Please let me know. Thank you


  2. Anonymous says:

    Very moving Cassie, very moving. If I was there I would give you a giant hug!


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