Putting Dad in a Care Home: Elizabeth’s Struggle Between Guilt and Self-Preservation in the Face of a Lifetime of Cruelty

What nonsense is this? A care home? Over my dead body! Im not leaving my house! Elizabeths father hurled his mug at her, aiming for her head. She dodged with the reflexes only years of habit could teach.

Clearly, things couldnt go on like this. Sooner or later, hed find a way to hurt her, and shed never see it coming. Still, as Elizabeth filled out the forms to move her father into elder care, guilt gnawed at her. Yet, what she did for him now was more than hed ever done for her.

Her father, William Addison, had not gone quietly. He shouted, struggled, raged at everyone who played a part in his move as he was bundled into the car.

Elizabeth stood at the window, watching the car disappear down the old lane. It reminded her of another time long ago, when she was just a girl, too young to know what would become of her.

She was an only child. Her mother, frightened by her husbands violent temper, never dared have another. William married not for love, nor to carry on his family name, but for ambition. Hed been past forty when she was born, a civil servant with eyes on promotion. Marriage was a tool, a way to appear the upstanding family man. He chose a suitable matcha young college girl, Mary, daughter of modest factory workers. It was a feather in the cap for Marys family, who never thought to ask her opinion. The wedding was grand, although her parents were noticeably absent, never making it past the church threshold.

Mary moved into her husbands house, and William set about molding her into the perfect bureaucrats wife. He put someone in charge of teaching her table manners, discretion in conversation, and the art of seeing nothing unless invited.

Well, then? How did the day go? William would bark, sinking into his armchair.

All is well. Im learning the proper way to lay the table, and Ive started my English lessons. Mary quickly learned never to give him grounds for complaint.

And the house? Who looked after that?

I did. I planned the weeks meals with Mrs. Brown, did the shopping, and tidied up.

Hmph. Thatll do for today. But remember: make sure your hands are spotless, and dont look slovenly. Behave well, and perhaps Ill hire you a chauffeur and a maid. Not yet, thoughyouve not earned it.

Yet days of tranquility were few. Most evenings William came home late, foul-tempered and tired, and took it out on Mary, for the servants could at least quit or gossip if roused to anger. Mary had no escape, no one to complain to.

It took only a month of marriage for William to raise his hand to his wifenot because shed erred, but to show who ruled the house. The blows grew more frequent. He struck her craftily, leaving no bruises, never marring her walk or appearance. Mary hid her wounds under her dress and smiled dutifully at colleagues and friends who visited.

A year passed. Friends and associates started making off-colour jokes about the lack of an heir.

William, you seem fit as a fiddle, but your lovely young wife still isnt expecting? Shouldnt you have her see a doctor?

Hed reply curtly, Shes still finishing college.

Nonsense! No need for a woman to study. She should be seeing doctors. And theres no point to marriage without children!

Soon Mary was dragged from one physician to the next; William even eased off his beatings in case the doctors noticed. All the tests showed Mary healthy, the problem clearly Williamsnot that he took it well. One doctor hinted as much, suggesting that William himself seek a check-up.

Me? Are you mad? One word from me and the best youd manage is caring for cows in Yorkshire!

That wont solve your problem, the physician replied calmly.

With reluctance, William was testedand the verdict was grim: his chances of fathering a child were slim and shrinking.

The whispers at work, the sight of his young wife in her primeit all made William bitter. Mary, who once flinched and wept, now simply froze in his presence, silent and distant.

He found consolation in another woman for a while. Eventually, after two and a half years, Marys long-awaited pregnancy came. Elizabeth was born, her fathers image. But for William, there was no pride, no delight. Mary and the nanny saw to the girl; weeks would pass without his seeing her, nor did he care.

As Elizabeth grew, she began to irritate her father, and it became harder for him to hold his temper. The first time he struck her, she was five. She had demanded something, stomping her feet just after William returned from a disastrous meeting. He flung her halfway across the parlour; she crashed into the wall and stood silent with fear, not even daring to cry. William simply lay down on the sofa and switched on the television.

That lesson stayed with Elizabeth. She learned never to provoke him, but that wasnt enough for William. Hed now slap, insult and humiliate her freely, even with guests presenthis position now secure, appearances no longer necessary. He delighted in mocking her, watching her fight tears.

Mr Addison, I hear your Elizabeth is a talented violinist! Would you have her play for us?

A violinist? She can barely hold the thing straight! If you want to suffer, be my guest! Lizzie! Did you hear me? Fetch your fiddle and play for our guests!

Red-faced and mortified, Elizabeth would fetch her violin, dreading to play in public but fearing her fathers wrath even more.

That childhood terror followed her all her life. Though shed had promise, she never played again after school.

Reading stories of happy families, Elizabeth wondered why her own fate had been so cruel.

Her mother never showed her warmth either. Unable to love a child born of a loathed marriage, Mary kept her distance. When Elizabeth was thirteen, her mother diedthe official story was a car accident. What truly happened, the girl never learned.

After that, Elizabeth withdrew even further. She finished school and went off to university to study what her father had chosenone of his last decrees, as his own troubles mounted at work. By her graduation, hed lost his influence and most of his wealth, spending almost everything to keep out of prison. Eventually, William managed to escape disgrace and retired quietly to a country cottage. Elizabeth never visited; she had nothing to say to him and no desire to endure his insults.

Living alone, William could no longer unleash his temper on anyone. His mind suffered for it. Neighbours began to reach out to Elizabethher father was behaving oddly, they said. She steeled herself and made the hard choice to bring him home.

Able once more to torment his daughter, William seemed almost revitalised. Every day was a new scene: shouting, insults, the odd plate or vase dashed to the floor. Elizabeth confined him to a single room with a lock, but that didnt help; soon, the signs of dementia grew. At last, with much anguish, Elizabeth made another painful decision: he would go to a care home.

She never married. Shy, wounded, she shunned relationships. At work she kept to herself, never forming close friendships. Still, as she arranged for her fathers placement, shame haunted her.

Keeping him at home endangered her, and the doctors confirmed he was losing his grip on reality. But his old anger and hatred remained, even when William stopped recognising Elizabeth altogether.

She visited every home in the city, searching for a decent place. The best was costly; most of her wages went to pay the fees, leaving her to take extra work to make ends meet.

The days after he left were a blur. She remembered the only time she and her mother had left togetherMarys single effort to escape. William had found and dragged them home. Soon, her mother was dead.

Even now, when Elizabeth visited her father, she cried from pity and guiltthe only emotions her parents had ever taught her.

Besides the heavy burden of guilt, her own health had begun to falter as well.