I love my Dad, that's well documented. He was a complicated man, a great person to talk to, and mostly a good Father. He could never see past the end of his penis, and that was his downfall. Add to his tom-cattery the endless charm he possessed, and you had a recipe for disaster. For a little bald fat man, he sure got around.
I believe that he loved his children, he just loved himself more. He was smart enough to graduate high school when he was 15 but didn't have enough sense to be faithful. He exuded a charm that was almost palpable. I have watched him win over crowds of people who were very predisposed to dislike him. It was his special gift. My brother calls him the 'King of the Bull-shitters.' It isn't meant with disrespect. It is an accurate description.
Unfortunately, his narcissism left a path of destruction. Some of my brothers, they still carry their scars. When a boy is abandoned just as he is becoming a young man with no explanation, there will be repercussions. Other brothers have different scars. They work hard not to be the man that he was. And then there is my sister and me. Our scars are there, we just don't talk about them. He left the seven children and Momma a week before my second birthday. I have no memories of him as a child.
On a fluke, I found his phone number in my mother's address book. I was 21. I remembered the last contact when I was 12. The woman he was living with at the time wasn't excited at the thought of more children from my Dad, she didn't like the ones he already had. So when I called, I asked for Marvin, was told he wasn't there and left no message.
Three hours later, I called again. He answered and I can still hear it hell-o. I asked for him, he said speaking and then I asked if he remembered my Mom and his two daughters. He answered that of course he did, and then I told him that I was the youngest of those two daughters. He paused for just the slightest beat and said, "Well how are you?"
He was there for me at one of the darkest times of my life, and over that time, he came to make his peace with my brothers and sister. My middle son's DNA defied the odds of his dark-eyed father, my brown eyes and managed to inherit my Dad's beautiful blue eyes. I see my Dad when my son looks at me after I have been silly enough to annoy him. Good times.
My Dad wasn't perfect by any stretch. I know the process for taking a sibling DNA test-lets leave it at that. Some were my Dad's others not.
But eventually, even my Dad died, in spite of his white-knuckled grip on life. The recognized siblings and I were left to sort through his belongings, his oldest son was tasked with putting his life on hold to clean up the estate. Some of those siblings acted as if there was gold buried in the yard. It was sad.
Fast forward to May 30th of this year and Momma left us, as I wrote about last week. Again, the vultures circle. I miss my Mom and it's renewed the wound that was left when Dad died.
Life is temporary. Nothing lasts and if you think it does then you are a fool. Make a will. Make your arrangements now, tell people about them so that your wishes will be carried out. Then, kiss the people that you love and tell them that you love them. The best gift that God has ever given me was the drive that had me calling my Dad almost every day the week before he died. He came to supper exactly a week before he died, leaving that Betty where ever she was when she wasn't up my Dad's butt. I fried a chicken, I peeled potatoes and I made biscuits. He stayed longer than he planned ( that Betty was on her own that night) and watched professional wrestling. How such an intelligent man could enjoy it, I will never understand, but he did. It was the perfect gift. Tell the people that you love how you feel. You'll thank me later.
