Posted by
Nee on Tuesday, July 29, 2008 10:16:45 AM
I know this piece is lengthy. But it was a necessity. I am not sad. This is they way life is and we have to roll with it. Thanks for reading.
On Saturday, my father passed away. He battled all kinds of addictions in his life and maybe now he has some peace. I was not raised by my father. In truth, he was a better uncle than a father. We had him for 8 years, however and it was long enough to know that he was a smart, artistic and funny man. He could never channel any of those God-given talents into being a productive member of society and that is what is sad. I long ago made my amends with who my father was and also with who he would never be. It’s okay.
I have tried my best to give what I could to my father, but it should be obvious that I don’t owe the man much. More than anything, I kept contact with my father because of my Gram. I loved and respected her and she did her best to make up for what her son was not.
As her grandchild, I think I became the substitute for “Davey”. It wasn’t a problem for me. I am who I am, and thankfully, I inherited the good stuff!!
The death of my father appeared to be an imminent thing of late and I was angry at my Aunt for not letting me know that he was not able to fight like before. I would have liked seeing him and telling him that it was all okay, one more time. But my Aunt took that away from me. It was as if she wanted to punish me for not being the prodigal daughter. Like I said, I gave what I could.
The last time I saw him was the weekend of my Mom’s 60th. And when I phoned my Aunt, I asked about what happened and expressed sympathy. I asked about the service. She said it was going to be private, Dave had been cremated. Then she said there were certain people she didn’t want there and that she didn’t expect me to come! I told her I was insulted and then she dropped a bomb.
In so many words, my brother was not welcome. In so many words, because since Dad had the stroke eight years ago, his son hadn’t seen him, why should he now that he’s dead? I understood she lost her brother, I understood the grieving. What I didn’t get was who the hell gave her God’s job? Who the hell was she to judge who “deserved” to be at the memorial service? I could have screamed nastiness at her. Instead, I broke down and told her that it wasn’t her place to judge and that Gram would be rolling in her grave over this thought process. Her brother, my father, knew he was not what he should have been to his children. How is it that his own sister now sat making tallies about who did what and when? He left us, never supported us, and lived a life of zero responsibility. And we were in the wrong?!!!
My mother raised us on a measly 10k per year!!! We could have been bitter and nasty and it would not have mattered. But our mother raised us right. That was our father! We, like any other family want the closure to his sad life and what we were without. Nobody need to carry “Davy’s” baggage anymore. So, who is this woman who would have the balls make my brother a bad guy? My brother did nothing wrong except call our father out for being the lazy, no-good bum he actually was. And, I say that for descriptive terms, not to be vindictive and mean.
In the end, I hung up on her, when she started with the lists. I called my mother. She called my brother. I.LOVE.MY.BROTHER. He went to Aunt and asked her why this had turned to mudslinging when we didn’t deserve it. He was cool and level-headed. He called and told me it would be okay. He even asked me to call Aunt back and say sorry. Take the high road, he said, let’s all just move forward and be done. He’s right and I would have done it, anyway. And I will. But let me just tell you about our dad…
Someone once told me that I should remember only the good about people. To a fault, I do tend to err on the side of “only seeing the good.” The past is past and cannot be changed. Dad, I got the goods…As a child, I remember the long walks through the woods of Naugatuck and Southbury to dig for the treasures left behind by the “pioneers‘. Yep, that’s what you told us. We found cool stuff like an old Maxwell house coffee can and a tin ZigZag cigarette paper holder and lots of door knobs and colored glass bottles for your collections. Is that where I got the collecting bug?
I remember fishing, not liking it so much, but all the same, you taught me. I hated putting the worm on the hook, and I liked seeing the fish guts, but not flowering and eating the fish! EW!
I learned how to build a lean-to and what I could eat or not in the woods. Your love of music rubbed off on me and I still remember thinking how you sounded just like Neil Young.
Remember when you told me not to talk or wish bad of other people cause it would come back to bite me? You were right. I talked bad about Nixon and a week later, I was sick in the hospital. I know there were many life lessons on our short path, but all the same, I loved you for who you were We are who we are. You were smart, witty, kind. How about the time you went down to the river to feed the birds and the squirrels with the corn pilfered from the farm near Gram’s? I thought I had seen a German Volkmarcher when you came sauntering up the road!! Nope, just Dad being Dad. Long shorts, white socks, bandana, walking sick and a handful of corn.
Life was the adventure that took you to Woodstock, Bakersfield, Florida…Didn’t a Zolo write a book with some of those adventures? Ha. And Leonard took those awesome photos of David and I…the ones with the butterflies in the woods.
You were an artist, too. I don’t think there is one thing that stands out more than the telephone cable drum into which you had carved a replica of the center from the silk Chinese rug in the house and then put you put logs on it to make it a table. There was the shoeshine kit box, the stained glass creations, the leather peace sign necklace…and years later, Hannah would show me the grapevine wreath that you made for her house. There is no doubt of the artistic talent you possessed.
As a melancholy kid, I loved sad tunes. Whenever I heard Terry Jacks song " Seasons in the Sun", I used to wonder where you were. "We had joy , we had fun, we had seasons in the sun...."
I know that the people who knew, loved and admired you will miss you Gramma Sal still talks about how you “saved” Uncle Joey from the hotrod he wanted to buy. I know that Aunt Beck will miss you. And, trust me when I say that “Unck” (or Uncky) will live on in infamy. I always thought that was THE best nickname for an uncle I ever heard. Everyone has burdens and crosses to bear. Yours are down and it’s okay. Rest in peace.