The Father and The Son

Driving aimlessly down a country road one Saturday, with a joint between my teeth, my eyes set on a soft white cloud in the distance. At first my mind drifted but eventually relaxed its thought on a time with my father. Driving in that old maroon van just talking with endless inquisitiveness I asked him, “Can we die at anytime daddy?” He answered with a slight hint of regret, as I recall, “Yes son we can.” Even in church daddy? Yes son he replied, even in church. Even on the toilet daddy? Yes son even on the toilet. He let out a laugh and looked at me smiling. You shouldn’t worry about that though baby boy, you’re still young and you’ll outlive me for sure. But I don’t want to daddy, I said. I just wanna drive round in this beat up old van and talk to you forever. I know son, he said. I know. But one day we’ll both be in heaven baby and we can talk all you want. I know daddy, I said. I know. I just wish you wouldn’t beat me there.

Years have passed now and I still see my dad. We drink coffee now and smoke cigarettes but I still love to ask him questions and hear him talk. There have been a few misunderstandings between us but my love for him has never faltered. Even as a young child when there were curveballs here and there I would always rely on his wisdom to drive me into a sense of being a better person. No matter the tough times we endured he is still my daddy. Growing up wasn’t always easy in his household but learning to feel emotion was. Even now my mind is full of an abundance of emotional energy. The only drawback is that I tend to slowly decrease this amount by stuffing substance down my throat. Sometimes it just feels better to put it to rest and wait for tomorrow to understand what it is that I can’t get past.

Focusing on the road again my mind drifts on and thinks of him and I wonder if I told him how much he means to me. Does he know that I don’t care about the things that have happened? I hope so, cause it really doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve grown up and the world has shown me that making the world safe for your son is not always easy. I’ve not seen my son in months and my psychiatrist told me it’s never too late to strengthen that relationship and fill this empty spot in the center of my arms. He says I don’t have to lay awake at night staring at the rotating ceiling fan and wish he was laying next to me. He says I don’t always have to drink to forget but I do anyway. In the seat where I wish my son was sitting rests a bottle of whiskey and a sack of cheap weed. I grab up the bottle and fight to push back these fucking tears. Kill that emotion! Make it go away! So I swallow a few shots and focus on the burn. Light up a joint and pull it through the pointless hole in my face. Focus on the road and forget that I’m even here. Does he really know it doesn’t matter? Does he really know I don’t care?

I see a passing car and a mother smiling back at her child. I tilt back the bottle and hope these tears stay inside. The warming weather changes the leaves to green and I think of rolling down hills with my brother or spinning in circles with my sisters. Swimming in lakes with my family and smiling with my first lover, hand in soft, warm, clueless hand. If I could have those days back would I want them? Would it be any easier? Truly I don’t think so. As far as I can tell this day will be just as memorable as the rest. The bluebonnet hills, the passing street signs, even the concrete separation of the streets. Every bit of it reminds me of something that I miss or something that I didn’t get. Faithless life I have isn’t worth the time I’ve spent living it. Does he really know it doesn’t matter? I tilt back the bottle drinking a little more each time. Light up a cigarette and inhale for no reason other than to smoke. I guess this is my dedication to you dad! I scream aloud. Here’s what I’ve done with the fucking wisdom you’ve given me, seeps out in a whisper and I tilt back the bottle yet again.

I’ve thought for years now of how it would feel to be an honest man. Of how it would feel when I actually felt love for myself. After all you can’t love someone else without learning to love yourself. I’ve never felt that even though I’ve been within myself for such a long time. If you’re wondering why I’ve never mentioned my mother it’s only because she holds such a special piece of my heart. Her and I have been together even when we were apart and I am so lucky to have such a loving friend. Even her smile can change the complicated combination of chemicals that fold and form within my brain. I was told at the age of 3 that she was dead. Why would you? Don’t you realize what that does to a child’s heart? You don’t care. I’m not sure who told me this. Was it my father or grandmother? That I don’t know but it’s okay I don’t care anymore. All I ask is that you remember how much it hurt for me to be without her for all those years. How many times I closed my eyes and hoped that the whole situation was just a nightmare. Just remember that.

I tilt the bottle back and my mind drifts again but this time it takes my eyes with it. My lane turned into theirs and the sound of smashing metal caused me to throw the bottle into the passenger window. Glass flew in all directions and I felt whiskey burning my eyes. The car flipped over on the driver side and before I knew it I was part of the bluebonnet hills. I love to watch the world change and the eye’s within rearrange their shapes. They are here and the faces within aren’t yours to change, for once. Does it really matter? Or does it really change when we see the end stare us in the face? I love you Jacob. I love you Victor. I feel the tears swell and the blood consume my lips. The whiskey burns my eyes and the sound of a screaming man is all I hear. It takes all the strength I have to turn and see a father holding his son and a mother’s lifeless body. Finally, I don’t care if the tears fall down my face but a soft rain beats them there. The sorrow spreads throughout me and I haven’t anymore life to give. The voice in my head says I still love you Jacob. It says I love you my son no matter what you’ve done. Is it a voice in my head or is it time for me to go? I think of the father out there in the rain and how the alcohol will never make up for the fact that he has to live his life alone. I close my eyes and search for that smile within. There has to be an ounce of happiness left somewhere that I can grasp before I go but it’s nowhere to be found. I picture my son and his sweet mother even the soft touch of a distant lover. Nothing reveals that smile within not even the visual of a whiskey drunken woman.

Did I tell him the last time that I saw him? The thought of his cigarette overwhelmed me and I coughed a few times but I felt him smile and mom smiled as well. For the last time in my mind I saw them together. She smiles at him and he smiles back but it’s not the last time that they will see each other. The pyramid will form and fade and the sun will rise again. My love will not be wasted, even though it will be tasted by others now that my life has been taken. The thought of my son without me causes a tear to drip from my whiskey soaked eyes. He has been for months but now he will never know how I felt. He will only know that I killed this poor man’s wife and son. He will only know that I was a drunk and a stoner who left him only a headstone to visit. If he even wants to visit. I ask once in my head, Please dad please bring him to visit, don’t let him go on without the wisdom I was supposed to give but was too weak to deliver. My heart stops beating and my eyes close for good. Goodbye sweet world even though I never knew quite how sweet you were until now.