This is the final installment of a four-part series about my father’s life as I see it. (Check out Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.) In our last installment, his youngest daughter faced his death by taking a peek into his new life in that little mountain town. For the first time in almost 30 years, he helped give her something she could use: something as close to peace as she’ll ever get.…

To say that the news of the man’s death brought relief to Daughter #3 would be an understatement. It was as if a thousand-pound gorilla had been lifted from her shoulders. And she was determined that something positive would come out of the hell the man had created. She got to work to ensure that, for the record, all of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were included in his post-death documentation.  She set up a blog as a resource to other survivors of sexual abuse as well as other family members yet to be discovered, on which several events that unfurled after learning of his death.  Although it was the truth as both daughters knew it to be, it should have come to no surprise that it was less than complimentary.

Three months later, his new family happened on this blog (as well as her personal one) and were beside themselves. They knew nothing of this man she described, and quickly jumped to the defense of the hero they had loved, the only man they knew. “Jealous Witch! You have no guts!” they exclaimed. “Not fair! You know not of what you speak! For the past 20+ years, he was active in our community, gave us great advice, and was loved by all. He was a good man. No matter what pain he caused before can ever take that away.”

Daughter #3’s response? “Because Adolf Hitler loved Eva Braun and his dog, does that make him any less of a monster?”  Enough said.

The youngest daughters continued conversations with the family in the hope that, eventually, they could move toward a place of civility and even a bit of understanding.  For the new family was struggling – virtually overnight – with something they had been working through their entire lives: on the surface, this man was charming, engaging, fun, loving, caring, witty, and an all-around good guy; however, deep inside, deep in the inner workings of his soul layed a monster who damaged – and sometimes even destroyed – those in his path, especially those who loved him.

Webster’s defines a monster as “one who deviates from normal or acceptable behavior or character; a threatening force; a person of unnatural or extreme ugliness, deformity, wickedness, or cruelty; one who is highly successful.”  This man undoubtedly fits that bill.  There was a custom in medieval England, where prisoners awaiting execution were called monsters. The night before their execution, their jailers would hold a feast known as a Monster’s Ball as their final farewell.   In life, the man held most of the cards and served as jailer for so many; in his death, the tables have turned and, at long last, his cards have played out. And each family member has a Ball of their own to throw for this Monster: some will last a day, some a bit longer, and some the rest of their lives.

One of the most valuable lessons Daughter #4 has learned in her relatively short life has come from her father:  You can run, you can hide for a little while, you can even die, but you can never, ever, hide forever.  No matter what you do, you cannot erase your past, secrets can ultimately destroy those who love you most, and the price for trusting someone you love can be higher than you can afford. That was his legacy to her.

The four daughters (and their father) come from a long line of American Spencers, with the first coming to America in the 1630s.  They started towns, served in wars, and moved westward as the U.S. expanded. They were businessmen, farmers, patriots, and blacksmiths, among other professions.  These ancestors left the daughters a simple legacy: for without them, the daughters simply would not exist.  With her genealogical mind at work (not to mention a lot of curiosity), Daughter #4 will continue the work of discovering the individuals behind the names – her father included.  Time will tell if the new family will be a part of helping paint a fuller picture of his life, but she holds out hope. For now, she’s moving forward, grateful for the person she has become in spite of it all, and hopeful about becoming the person she knows she can be.

And they all lived happily ever after. And the beat goes on.