Father and Son

I remember as a kid watching my Dad in his room reloading.  The rhythmic movements of his press, smell of the gunpowder, his classical music playing, him pausing to tell me about some minor detail in the process.  I remember him fixing supper and always cutting up an orange in half moon shapes with the rind on.  Like that is some classier way of eating an orange?  I remember him opening a beer and letting me take the first sip.  I remember so many of the little things I watched my father do as a kid.  I remember them because he was my hero, sure I was scared of him but that was part of his power as a father. He always dispelled wisdom in doses, often portraying it in a way which made you think and reason it over.  He was not so much a 'because I said so' kind of parent but as a 'this is why we do it my way' kind of father.  Sure it was frustrating to try to work around that kind of reasoning but I still tried.  Most of all he was someone who would take the time to explain anything when you asked him.  He knew most of the answers and the ones he didn't he made me look up. I remember these things about him because I did those things.  I was his son, he let me into his life and showed me how as a son I should live it.

I think most men want a son when they start a family.  Not only to pass on the name and title like some medieval tradition but to teach what their father taught them and to improve what they felt were injustices done as well.  My father was not perfect, far from.  He is an alcoholic with a short fuse, stemming most likely from being in the War.  He has his viewpoints and feels very strongly about them, sure that is an admirable trait to have but so is allowing the other side to express theirs.  But with all those shortcoming he passed down what it means to be a man and more importantly what it means to be a good person in this society.  I wanted so badly to do the same with my son or sons.  When Marcellus died he took that.  He took my right to be a father.  I became a different kid of daddy, a type of daddy no parent can prepare you for.  A daddy to a beautiful angel.

Marcellus will never watch me do any project, he will never listen to me telling him stories about my childhood, he will never ask me those questions about how the world works.  I will never be able to play that roll I cherished so much as a child.  I will never be able to tell him about the interesting side to history that the school system so blindly looks past.  I will never be able to show him what being a good person is about and why he needs to be one too. 

I know more about losing a child than my mother, my father, my grandparents, and my brother.  And thank God I do.  I also hope that 30 years from now I will know more about losing a child than my children would need to know. I could teach my Dad what it is like to be a father to an angel but I do not want to.  It is something that is better not knowing in life. I finally know something more than my Dad, and that SUCKS.

Marcellus, I wanted so badly to be your daddy on earth.  To take you into this life and show you how to be a good person.  I cannot do that with you ever.  You are learning so much without me teaching you.  I hope you teach me someday what Heaven is like.  Because when that day comes I want to hear all about it!  I miss you so much.  I love you baby boy!