Nico and Christopher at the South Florida Fair. January 14, 2018
January 31, 2018
From an early age, I couldn't refer to the man who would be my stepdad by his real name. His name was not to be spoken in front of my father. According to my dad, the man who took my mother away from him would be forever known as, The Ass. I just found out that The Ass has died. I hadn't seen him in many years, but it didn't affect how I remember his life.
You see, when I was very young, my mom left my dad for The Ass. I suppose there was a lot of animosity brewing over the years between my parents. Still, I was 2 years old when their break up occurred, so it might as well have been another lifetime for me.
The Ass was the opposite of my dad. My father is a workaholic. He still works two jobs this very day. I talk with and see him, but my time spent with him is like being on my own time clock.
"Hi, Dad," punching in. "Bye, Dad," punching out.
The Ass, on the other hand, was athletic. He played football very well. He played golf exceptionally well. (No mistake; he looked just like Arnold Palmer and played golf like him.) And he enjoyed the outdoors. During my childhood with him and my early 20s, The Ass showed me how to play sports, fish, snorkel, ski, golf, and camp.
I remember when he held the back part of my bicycle seat as if it were a football. He ran like a star running back of an American football team who cleared the defensive line and headed into the open field. His pounding feet struck the asphalt as he ran along side of me and pushed me along. The soles of his white Reebok sneakers rotated as quickly as my feet could peddle, and the black tires of my bike smoothly sailed off as he let go. I was finally able to ride a bike without my training wheels.
The Ass got me, all of my brothers really, a job at the Inverrary Golf Course. The original home of Jackie Gleason's Honda Classic. We worked together, talked together, and enjoyed our lunch together. We spent months perfecting my golf club grip. I had fun working there.
I was around when my mother talked to him on the phone when he was by his father's bedside watching him die. My mom listened to the Preacher give last rites. I heard them cry. I was too young and dumb to understand his father's death. Still, I will never forget the car ride up to Titusville to help him pack his mom's belongings. She recently passed away.
He told me the stories of growing up across from Kennedy Space Center; he could see the launch pads off in the distance from their condominiums. From his spot on the beach, he would witness history. He says he watched living history and the dawn of America in the space age. NASA was in its infancy. He boasted about how he had watched the trials and errors of space flight. And see all the Apollo rockets make their way into space. "Hell, I didn't even know they were having a launch one night until the rocket was lit, and it shook me off the toilet seat."
But his statement on our way home from his mom's house would profoundly affect me for the rest of my life.
"It's a weird feeling, Chris. When both your parents are dead. When my parents were alive, no matter what happened in my life, I could always go home. And not necessarily live with them. Just go home and talk to them. Figure things out. But now all that is gone. I feel like an orphan."
I moved on past his derogatory name, The Ass. On that Thanksgiving Day, my mother was hosting Thanksgiving dinner. My father dropped me off in front of my mom's house. When I got out of the car, I asked my dad to come in, and he said, "If your mom will have me, I will." All of us had Thanksgiving dinner. My dad's animosity went away. Finally, peace amongst the family.
But now that Edward has died I feel sad I did not have closure with him so I could thank him for the things I learned about him and from him. I shared my memories with him, like helping me study my spelling words. Explaining what having a Green Thumb meant by showing me how to cut the grass. Or building my mom's greenhouse. How to fish from the beach, jetties, and piers. He learned how to crab in the Chesapeake Bay and passed on the lessons of cooking and eating blue crabs to my brothers and me.
About 6 months ago, I searched for Edward, Ed, Ned, and Eddie. But I could not find him. We found out about his death when his son found my sister on Facebook.
Life brings people together for one reason or another. Of course, they come and go, and we pay no mind to the ones who left because we are all so caught up in our own lives to realize that time is fleeting and with every new day, there's a chance tomorrow will never come. My experience is the perfect example of how we human beings take the miracle of life for granted.
I wanted to find Edward and tell him everything I wrote. But that moment is gone. I must now deal with the regret of not telling him thanks for being a dad. I assumed life would always give me the time for that. But this is not to be. Edward, thanks for being a dad to me. I hope the rocket ship took you to your parents so you can feel at home again.
Captain Imperfecto and Christopher at the fair he's like 6'8" in this photo!
January 14, 2018.
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