Blog #1 The Start

The starting block to my future and the man I am becoming today is all thankful to my father.

Life has always been a mystery to me. Of course, I did not even figure this out until I was merely 14. A time in life when we start to steer away from our parent's views and start to form our own. It's a time when we started to see the world for what it really is. It's like coming out of a shell that has guarded you up until that point. But even a snail outgrows its shell eventually. Up until that point, life was easy going. Not the best, in fact, it was fairly hard, especially for a small child. Growing up in a trailer park with a single father who just worked and drank his Bud Light day after day wasn't an easy thing to watch. In fact, my father never drank anything else. During the holidays, it was the beer. To celebrate, he drank his beer. When he was angry or saddened, he drank his beer. But during those times, he always had one too many. He was the type of man who never really bothered to show his emotions. He thought of it as a weakness, and showing weakness meant that you were not a man.

Before I go into great detail about who my father was and what I have gathered about him through my years as a kid, it is important for me to express that I love my father dearly, even after the pain and suffering he put me through. And the pain I have caused him. My father was always a hot head. The simple mistake or the simple disobedience set him off into a fit. Most kids grew up with being grounded, I got spanked. Just looking at my father, you could tell that he had some kind of anger to him. He was always tan, with long brown hair that went half way down his back and a scruffy beard that hid his face. I can only remember a few times in my life where I saw my father without his beard. And even then, it took a few seconds to register it was my father. He always had some kind of tank top on and during the cold months, he only put on a worn out blue plaid jacket. Every day, for as long as I can remember, he wore blue jeans, even during the summer months.

Throughout my childhood, I clearly remember my father losing all of his teeth. Of course, this was when I was fairly young, maybe only 6 or 7. One time, we were in an old, beat up grey van heading home when my father leaned forward while holding a hand up to his mouth. One of his teeth just fell out. Since then, he lost a majority of his teeth. This was before he had fake ones put in. I bring this up because when he was angry or frustrated, he did this thing with his teeth. His upper lip would retract into his mouth and his teeth would show, all white and nearly perfect, though fake. It was an expression of his face that I have gotten to know well through my years living with him. As soon as his lip even started to retract, I went to my room to let him cool off. With the thing he did with his teeth, he always had a look in his eye. Behind his brown eyes, he always had this angry yet sad expression in it.

Of course, as I got older, I became interested in my father's past. My father never really talked about himself as a kid and nor did he keep pictures. His mother, my grandmother, lived in the same city but my father tried to avoid talking to her as much as possible. So I ended up being the fall back guy. Spent more time with my grandmother than my father has in those years. It was like he wanted to be away from his family. Rarely talked to his sister, my aunt, and probably spent more time with his brother, my Uncle, than anyone else in the family even though my Uncle only visited a short time every few years. That was as far as my unspoken knowledge of my father went. I never asked him questions because he always got mad or very silent, as if trying to avoid the thought. But the knowledge that I have gathered from my grandmother was that he was a fairly academically smart young man who dropped out of a community college to work for his father who promised things. Of course, he never delivered those promises. I averted away from my father's past and started talking about my grandfather and the type of guy he was. As I guessed, even though I was only 9 at the time of this conversation, my grandfather was a short tempered man as well. For example, my grandmother said that one time, he came home where the toothpaste cap was off and he started yelling and, for nice words, punished the kids. Of course, my grandmother divorced him and married a firefighter named Floyd who cared deeply about my father and the rest of his siblings. Even with his love for them, he kept discipline maintained in the household, though I forget what my grandmother used as an example for discipline but my father respected him. He never told me he did, but I knew. When I was fairly small, I remember sitting in the living room of a dim lit house at my grandmother's. Outside, it was dark and lightning and thunder ruled the sky. Everyone in the family was there and I couldn't understand why they all looked so sad. Finally, my father picked me up and carried me into the far room down the hallway. That room was dimly lit as well and laying on the bed, was my grandfather Floyd. I remember being carried around the bed and just looked at him, almost expressionless. I didn't understand what was going on but I knew that he wasn't well. I'll never forget look at him and seeing his eyes half open. The half I could see, was white. My father reassured me that he was only sleeping, and I knew he was. Standing beside his bed, I remember faint breathing coming from him. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know him well and I have vague memory of him. He was always quiet and soft spoken. But my grandmother reassured me that he always talked about me when I wasn't there. I didn't believe her. But that night, I looked up at my father and asked "Is grandpa going to be OK?" and he patted my head and said," No, son. Grandpa's going to a better place." And that was the first memory I recall of seeing my father shed tears.

My father wasn't a wealthy man and we didn't have much as a small family, but he tried to spoil me with what he could afford. In his own way, he was saying sorry to me without saying those words. H was rarely ever home and spending time with him was even more rare. He knew that it affected me as a child when he went out to drink at bars till 2am and then come home drunk. He knew him constantly working left my lonely inside our small trailer. He knew a lot of things he did, and probably won't ever, admit.

With this being my first blog, I started with my father for the simple reason that he is the reason that I am going where I am going with my life now, and it has taken me over 5 years to come to this conclusion and be grateful to him. Even though he was a complicated man that I have yet to understand and probably never will, he the man that started the building blocks to my success for the near future.

My next blog will be the story of the next block in my life that has led me to where I am now.

Reviews

[cynthiabuhainbaello]

I read this incredible story, your first blog, as you say, and I admired the remarkable candid non-judgmental way you put the words together and told it simply as it happened. I could feel the pain and the childhood conflict, confusion, and emotional vacancy but am also blessed to see it had nurtured strength in you. I had imperfect parents too and they had their own issues (having married young just before WWII) but I learned from their lives and learned to stand up and be myself - even with my own flaws. Some of life's wounds are so deep they hurt for years. I am glad you are able to write it with a lot of regard and affection for the people of your roots. Thank you for sharing it with us.

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful story. We can learn from our parent. I had AWOL parent. I was raised in foster homes and by kind Grandparent. I learn how to live because of two strong Grandfather's who always had time to talk and teach me. Each person must learn the truth about life. Can be hard. We must walk in another shoes to understand their life. Thank you for sharing the story. Good to put down words to remember times and people. In a long life we will leave behind many memories and people. A excellent story.
Coyote