My sister started laughing at me when I told her that when a character on my favorite T.V. show dies, often times I can’t stop crying. She thinks that is a stupid reason to cry. If you will, please reblog this if you have ever felt seriously saddened over a character’s death and if T.V. shows, books, movies, etc. Are perfectly good things to keep you happy when you are sad.
There are two things I believe, without a doubt, about John Winchester. 1) He was a traumatized man who did the best he could. 2) His best was nowhere near good enough.
I used to think that, too, Nonny. But then…
I remembered how he left his ten year old son to look after his six year old son for three days, without enough food to share between them—
—but with a loaded shotgun and instructions to “shoot first” should the monster he was hunting turn up.
(All of which is bad enough even without the heavy implication in the episode that he left them alone as bait to draw the shtriga out.)
I remembered how even before Mary died, he was neglectful to his family to the point that Dean—who was less than four years old at the time—felt the need to comfort his mother through his absence.
I remembered how Dean visibly flinched at the memory of John coming back home after Sam ran away.
I remembered how Sam, at age fifteen, told Amy that she didn’t want to see his dad when he’d been drinking.
I remembered how after a sixteen year old Dean was forced to steal food in order to feed himself and his brother because of John’s neglect, John told the police officer who caught Dean to let him rot in jail.
I remembered how he treated his sons so poorly, offered them so little in the way of actual parenting, that the words “I’m proud of you” clued Dean in to the fact that his father was possessed.
I remembered how, when Bobby was looking after the boys in 1989 he took Dean out to the park to play catch, and John tore him a new one over the phone because he dared to suggest that a ten year old child might be better off playing ball than shooting targets for one day of his life.
After I thought about all that, and the countless other instances of neglect and abuse, I realized that “he did the best he could” is giving John Winchester far too much credit.