I don’t even remember how I heard about it. I will however not discuss it in my age 16 to 17 year because I feel I will be too short on my personal views.
I was with Noelle, the last time I saw him. He showed up at our house with his brother my uncle jer. I don’t know if he was scheduled or what. I don’t even know how he got off the house arrest. Maybe at that point he just didn’t care. I was with Noelle, we were hanging out in my room. I went to the window when I saw the car pulled up. I don’t remember much, Noelle said I was shaking, she grabbed my hand and I almost crushed it. I don’t even remember why i did or why I went outside to him. I just remember shaking uncle jer’s hand and that was it. I don’t even remember going back in.
He eventually went to jail for violating his house arrest repeatedly, they sent him to graterford. The same place he guarded for so many years. He obviously lost his job for the bullshit with the camp hill inmates. I understand he wrote letters to my mother, also his sons, apologizing for whatever he did to them. Nothing was ever written to me. He found Jesus again and blah blah blah. I don’t give a fuck. The only person worth writing a letter to he never did, that made him a phony assed pile of shit.
The story is officially his hepatitis c he got from the war came back out of remission and killed him. I would hear years later the guards killed him or had him killed. I found it strange there was no autopsy, they cremated him and shipped his ashes ups to new jersey with his parents. Why he died to me was fairly unimportant, what was would be the fact I never had to see him again, or be hurt by him again. My bargain had come to fruition, Vincent had done what he promised to do. To me he died in the worst way. He died in the very place he guarded with so much pride. Dishonored, destroyed. Lost his marriage, his freedom, his life. I wish I could have said I was content with that at the time, but I wasn’t. I was filled with hate. A hate so deep I lived on it. I breathed it. It got me out of bed in the morning. It enveloped me.
My heart was so black, nothing to feel anymore. Nothing to feel in so long, it because of this man. I had to go. I had to see his ashes going in the ground. I had to see it, and believe it. I went with Noelle, I saw the hole. The minister of the Plymouth Bretheren of his chapter gave the eulogy. We were asked to go up and say goodbyes, His platoon leader Dave Christian was also there. Gave both my brothers signed copies of his book. I think he was commentating at fox news at the time among many other things. He fought for veterans rights, especially on agent orange. When my mother went up her leg slipped into the hole. It was almost prophetic. It was over, get the fuck down there and stay there. Rest in hell.
Maybe it was my brothers, maybe it was the me he pounded into a concrete box, the me he proved to was stronger than God himself. I don’t know. I walked by my uncle Jer, and I exploded. I never had such a sorrow in my life to that point, I never felt anything like the empty I felt, I never felt so horrible. The tears were so intense, the feeling was so overwhelming, if he didn’t hold me I would have fell to my knees. I didn’t know exactly. Was it because it was over? Was it because I was free from him? In retrospect it was because what fueled me to hate my whole life was now gone. It was lifted from me, the walls were broken down. Vincent lost to me, I just busted through I guess, One thing I always forgot to remember, I let him operate.
That was the end of it. I learned that hate is the ugliest feeling of all, I vowed to never let it take me again. But that vow sadly, in my years to come. I would break. Anyone who was ever abused by a parent can relate to this song, and this was his. I don’t know if Noelle ever caught on to it, hell I didn’t either. But I was trying to talk to her. I was trying to show her what was behind the curtain. I couldn’t but I was trying.
I asked my brother for his date of death, and he sent me this message along with it. Perception and truth, it’s make sinners saints and saints demons… I think in life there is no truth, only what we see and choose to believe.
“In my fathers final days on earth while he was in prison he received a letter from his brother Jer. While reading the letter he broke down in tears as he felt the power of the holy spirit reaching into his heart and he began crying out to God for mercy. Brothers from the prison began to lay hands on him and pray for him. I have read letters he sent while in prison and could feel God’s love and forgiveness in his words. I know in my soul he was praying for me and mic for God to take care of us because he knew he was dying…. but I also know he was praying for you as well. For God to protect you also, there is much to ask for forgiveness and to give forgiveness. The love of Jesus (Yeshua) is unfathomable but is something very real and precious. I know my father found it and had it in my dying days and now he is at peace.”