Mind if I talk about my Father? - Democratic Underground

Touchdown

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Sat Feb-04-06 01:25 AM
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Mind if I talk about my Father?

This might be a bit introspective, so if you get bored, I'll understand.

I just found out Today that he died. He was 61. I'm not sure about my reaction, but it is affecting me, which is why I decided to write my thoughts down. But who needs a private diary when we have DU?

He died 3 weeks ago. The funeral was last Saturday. My aunt had to look my Mom up through a high school friend of theirs. I had been out of contact with the Downs family (not our real name...none of them I might type are) for at least 15 years.

To make a long story even longer. I had lost contact with my Dad at 4 years old, then when sued for back child support, he wanted to see me again. I was 13 then. I spent a month with my new younger brother, sister and step mom, Patricia and of course my Dad. I fell in love with him, and everybody else. Boys don't cry, but I did after I got on the plane. Cut a couple of years later, he stops seeing me because Grandma died, and he had some financial trouble, and couldn't continue to pay CS. Strange that belief. You can't see your son because you can't afford CS payments? I never understood how that had anything to do with me. I went through HS and the Army with not one word from him. It was as if I never had a father at all.

Finally, fresh out of my boots, at 21 I decided I was going to look him up again. I had no idea where he was, but I called the last person I had a phone number to, my uncle (who owned a pool company in San Jose Ca., who told me Dad quit him shortly after Grandma died). I got him, and we talked. He bought me a ticket to come visit him (new Army vets are dirt poor BTW. Have a little understanding when the windfall isn't there) and we hit it off again. My sibs were teenagers now. Both Sher and Tom were great. I stayed in contact with them for another 2-3 years. I was in college at the time, and as most vets know, that college money doesn't last, and I was about to run out of money in my Junior year. At the behest of my Grandpa's advice (on my mother's side, whom of course never liked my Dad, since he knocked Mom up with me in the first place-God I sound like Pippin in LOTR -Grandpa is not Farmer Maggot)..."He never gave you a damn thing in your life. It's about time he took his responsibility for you now!" Well, any stupid 23 year old goes off with that advice half cocked and tried to put the screws on his Dad...which I did. Dad said no. I let it go.

For the next two years we kept in contact by phone, and I do remember sending him a birthday card once. I never got one from him. Of course, being 24 doesn't make me any more mature than 23, and I noticed that I was the one always calling him. He never initiated a call, unless it was a secret code to a Nintendo game (remember the up, up, down down shit you used to have to do to get 99 lives on Contra?)...so, as I said, 24 and stupid, I decided to play "who blinks first", and waited for him to call me.

I waited for 15 years.

at 25 or 26 (it all runs together now) I found out through my Other Grandpa (he's not Farmer Maggot either) that Dad and Pat moved into another house, changed phone numbers. I dropped out of college (ran out of money) and got my own apt. and changed mine, so there's 2 degrees of separation. Yes, there were many times when I thought of doing one of those $30 look 'em up detectives on the internet later on, and wondered what everybody was up to. I really missed Tom And Sher, but I had no way to contact them, since I no longer knew where they lived after they moved out, and I would have to go through him to find them.

Now, at 40. I get told by my Aunt Janet, who Mom gave my phone number to, that according to my siblings, that I was a greedy bastard that cut dad off when I couldn't bilk him out of any more money. I had no idea where this is coming from, but since I was never contacted by any of my immediate family upon his death, even after the funeral had passed, that although I knew it in the back of my mind for a long time, I think it's now confirmed that his first born...never really belonged.

He died in his chair, in front of the TV. There was no autopsy. He was cremated. It could've been a stroke, or complications from some medication. Apparently it takes a couple of months for toxicology exams to get back to us.

I have a lot of regrets, now that he's gone. But at the same time, I wonder if I ever had much of a choice in it. I told Janet to give my phone to both bro and sis. Who knows if either will call.

For those of you who got past the "In the beginning, the Dinosaurs got too fat and died" stage. Thanks. I just needed to write it down. Sorry about being so morose, but I am saving on car insurance!