Quandary

It's been awhile since I have written.  It's not been from lack of trying.  I wanted to write about the passing of my mother on Christmas but every time I sit down, the words come out wrong.  So maybe it's just not time yet.  I will say that my grandmother was speaking to me up until the point I paid for the funeral--now I believe I am dead to her.  She has her reasons but I'm sure she will never voice them to me.  The strange thing is that it almost feels like relief to me.  I made decisions I knew wouldn't go over well with my family as well as consequences for those decisions.  This long, sorted story is for another day.

Three days ago, my dad and I had a terrible argument and now I find myself in a quandary about what to do about it.  I love my dad immensely, but as of late I have just started to realize some things I have been blind to see most of my life.  I started picking up on a few comments here and there a few months ago.  Things like, "you can't do that" in response to closing a heavy door or "let me do that, you'll do it wrong" about putting aluminum foil in the bottom of a BBQ grill.   I guess my deflection wall had started to build itself back up, because instead of taking such comments and keeping my mouth shut--I spoke up for myself  throwing in a bit of sarcasm along the way.  "You're right, there is no way your adult daughter could do this!  It's like brain surgery!"

Anyways, the day of the argument, we had had plans to go by the bank.  I needed him to do a few things for me that would have taken no longer than 30 minutes of his time.  We had agreed the day before to do this and had set a time for early in the morning.  As soon as I arrived, I should have left.  From the very start, it was clear to me that he was trying to pick a fight.  He went on and on about how I was ruining his day.  How he would rather be out with one of his friends.  At one point, he compared me to our schizophrenic neighbor who is now in a resting home.  Basically, he said lots of things he should have never said and I thought--enough.  I picked up my things and explained he's made himself perfectly clear.  We will not be going to the bank today.  I walked out the door and while I was loading the car, he screams out the door, "if you leave right now, don't you ever come back".  In a split second, I felt fear, considered going back inside, realized there was no way I was going back inside, and responded with "whatever dad".  I got in the car and drove home.  I wasn't even mad.  I just was.

About 10 minutes after I got home, he called.  He was uncontrollably raging at this point and proceeded to say he was only "playing" with me and that he was sick and tired of my "temper tantrums".  Let's just say, I went off at that point, not letting him get a word in edgewise and ended the conversation with something to the effect of, "you can bitch all you want to, but I've got news for you, I don't have to listen to it.  Call me back when you can talk to me like a normal human being."  I hung up the phone.

He's called two times since then--very short conversations.  Basically, I listen to what he has to say then get off the phone.  There hasn't been an apology.  Normally, when we have disagreements, we pretend they didn't happen and just go on acting normally.  But I can't this time--his rage was scary this time.  I can't help but ask myself if he hates me that much--it's just seething out of him.  I keep asking myself if there really is something so wrong with me.  I don't have the answers and I'm clueless on how to make this better.  Is it me? or is it him?