Forty-Six Years Later and I Am Still Living With The Damage That Was Done

Its 46 years since my father was killed by Matthew Kerry Smith, and my life has been a fight ever since.
I had to be the protector for my mother, who was misled by people into not buying a house because of worries over money.
The five Canadian chartered banks under the umbrella of the Canadian Bankers Association gave my mother 150.00 per month for her life, which was guaranteed for me for the first ten years.
My mother died in July of 1974, and the annuity having begun in October of 1964 meant that I received 2 cheques.
There was an insurance policy that paid 99.20 for ten years and that ended with the October cheque and one for 62.11 that also ended at that time.
This meant that it was hard to go to college and I had to borrow student loans etc.
I tried to continue but I was depressed and stressed due to my mother's death and finally left the college I was attending in May of 1975 which had not received university status in Ontario. (More about that some other time.)
I continually held jobs where I was good at the work but in many cases especially in the longest held one (working for a customs broker) I was
dumped on by various individuals who were not really happy people and didn't want to dump their psychological crap on their spouses or significant other, so they did it to me as I was a low eschelon co-worker,
as no one cared whether I quit etc.
I was illegally downsized in January 2007 and was told it would be hard to prove it, (I should have sued for Wrongful Dismissal), and haven't worked since.
I believe that a lot of what happened in my life and the way I react to things is because of the loss of my father and the way he died.

A Bank Robber Killed My Father

My parents went to the bank where my father had his account, on July 24th, 1964.
We were to leave for two weeks vacation the next day.
While my parents were in the bank it was robbed.
The robber fired two shots into the ceiling to frighten everyone.
He robbed the bank and fled.
My father, after everyone had gone outside and along the sidewalk of the small neighbourhood plaza where the bank was located, asked: "Where are the police?"
"Why aren't they here yet? If I had a gun I'd go after him."
The accountant said he'd give my father a gun.
My father went after the robber and fired a shot or two, with a 38 revolver, both shots missing the robber, but the robber shot him twice, once in the heart, and once in the head, using a telescopic lens on a gun that looked like a sawed-off M16.
These shots were instantly fatal of course.
I will be writing more about this and the effect of how my father died on my mother and myself, and my sister, very soon.