He grew up with an abusive father, taking the brunt of it, believing it was bc he was the oldest of 7. He wasn’t a good father to FIL or husband, leaving the family decades ago. His mother later remarried, to a wonderful man that was also a childhood friend of my FIL (only a 2-4 year gap). Everyone absolutely loved him, a fully involved Grandpa Terry (step dad to FIL), for decades (passed 2015, in his 60s). He was grandpa before my husband (38) was even born, and he and my FIL remained close. His death was sudden & unexpected, from a brain aneurysm. It hit everyone hard, especially FIL.
While I was on my surgery rotation in medical school the chief resident sent me down to the library to get a medical test book prior to making rounds. As I got back I heard the chief of surgery ask”Where’s Sonja?” and the other medical student who knew the chief had sent me for the book said “Oh she’s probably goofing off, you know how girls are.” I dropped the book and he turned around and all 123 lbs of me went into rage mode and with one hand on his neck and the other on his chest I threw him up against the wall and pinned him and said “You knew damn well I was sent down to the library to get that book.
If you want to look good, look good by being good, not by trying to make someone else look bad.” Chief resident rescued him and chief of surgery clapped his hands in appreciation and picked up the book and then pretended nothing had happened. It went all through the hospital that the skinny girl pinned the much bigger guy and he was the laughing stock for quite a while. Extreme rage can make you very strong. One night I was looking out my bathroom window and I saw my neighbor in her bathroom, holding her hairbrush, singing and dancing in front of the mirror. I couldn’t stop looking when she started to primp and pose. I finally quit looking, scared that she might catch me watching. It was really entertaining, though.
He started accusing me being this James Smith and ignoring his calls. I tried to convince him for a few minutes but after realizing I am getting nowhere, I told him I can not spend any more time with him on the phone and hung up. Phone rang immediately and I did not answer. A couple or may be 3 days later, he was on the phone and we went through the same rigmarole, “James Smith is not here” “I don’t know who he is”. “Nobody around me knows neither”. This time he started threatening me with contacting my employer and getting me fired etc. I said, “Go ahead and do whatever you can as I have no idea who you are and you have no idea who I am”. The next day it went into me being an asshole for not paying my debt and a lot of other invectives.
At this point I recorded his phone number, his name, his company name and everything I possibly can and went to my HR department and filed a complaint and asked my desk number to be changed. They immediately contacted legal and company attorneys got involved and the phone calls stopped without having to change my desk phone number. This happened at my first workplace in the US. I did not even know you could buy small stuff like computers on credit. I thought credit was for things like home mortgages or cars.
The newfound time on his hands gave him ample time to have more flashbacks of war and his “father,” never really understanding why he was treated so cruelly his whole childhood. He despised his “father.” It also gave time and opportunity to dive into alcoholism and depression. A few months after he passed, his sister (husband’s aunt) surprised us with a thick book of his ancestry to have. It was a wonderful gif, especially during the grieving process. Rarely ever reaching out to my MIL, my husband’s sister (half) called her to arrange a family get together to share some news. A date and time was arranged and my inlaws, including all of the aunts on the FIL side, met up a few days later.