IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER

"Hello."

"Where's Dad?" I demanded. After a series of missed calls on my phone, it occurred to me. Dad had been under the weather for a week. I trusted my brother to let me know.

"Bro," my brother said, "he's gone."

DENIAL

My earlier memory of my father was a rundown hotel.

I was 5. It was Downtown San Diego I believed. My mother held my hand as we walked up the stairs. I stared at the stranger in front of me, curiosity over who he was to me.

There was always tension there. Who was this man who could come into my life when the only person I had to listen to was Mom? As I grew up, my Dad and I always had issues over my life.

Then...I grew up. I went away to college. I found myself. I came out.

The older I got, the closer my Dad and I became. I had even come out to him...to find he was fine with it. We talked on the phone every day, discussing life's bullshit.

"Thank you," I managed.

I hanged up the phone on my brother. My body felt like an avail in the sky, falling quickly to Earth. My butt hit the floor. My brother's words were in my head, but my mind could not comprehend.

Dad...was gone. Dad was gone. Dad couldn't be gone. I had only talked to him a day ago. I was on my way to the library to update stuff. My Dad had been falling asleep in front of his plasma television. We had a good laugh at our in sync schedules. Dad was gone?

Seconds became minutes. Minutes turned into an hour. My mind kept thinking I should get up and get ready for work. Another part of me wanted to vomit. My body simply would not move.

My manager called me from Postal Place. I frowned, surprised even though my cheeks were wet with tears. I picked up. My aunt had been there, looking for me.

"My dad...is gone," I managed.

And my manager became like a mother. He asked if I was okay. He gave me the day off so I could try to find a plane ticket. He reminded me that it was Pay Day.

"Oh, yea...that is today, isn't it. Uh...I forgot."

The words came out of my mouth. I don't know how. I had no feelings attached to it. I felt empty.

Another hour passed. Hotel S had been told what was up. I finally remembered that I had to get my paycheck. And I had nothing to wear that felt...right.

Such a silly thing to stress over, I thought. But yet...I did. I tried anything not to go out my apartment door because...that would this wasn't a practical joke. That my Dad...was gone.

***

I looked down. My latest fanfic was in front of me. I had gone to Borders. I could not stay in my room. Too many memories of my father threatened to boil to the surface. And my room and its emptiness was too much for me.

I had been at Borders for a while. I ate. I distracted myself with the latest magazine. Borders' coffee area was filled of people. Yet I felt lonely.

My fanfiction stood before me. I needed to do something. Magazines were done. I still was in no mood to go to my apartment. So...it was time to write.

I got out my cd player. It had been a while since I've listened to the first Scissor Sisters cd. And I felt sad. It could be a good thing.

Boy was I wrong.

The song was "Return to Oz." As I sat ironically writing a scene between one of my characters and his father, the song played in my ear. But the notes...the sadness of the song...the loneliness in my soul...I felt the need to cry trying to bubble to the surface. I tried to ignore it.

I paused. I looked around. Borders was always crowded. That day was no difference. Friends chatted. Couples flirted. Loners worked online. Everyone happy.

I looked toward the shelves. But I did not see shelves. I saw the space between them. I saw the happy people in them. I found the space empty. I felt aloneness. Then I thought about my father and how I would never see him again. The despair...sent me flying out the door.

I made it through my apartment door quickly. I did not bother to hit the light. I threw my backpack on the bed, fell to the floor, and sobbed.

ANGER

As the plane landed in Little Rock, I steeled myself. Still, I had no idea what to expect. I still did not believe Dad was gone.

I smoked a cigarette. It was night time. I had called my sister Stacy a while ago, to tell her I was in Arkansas and let my other sister Kelly know I was in town. We had to get together to figure out how the funeral would go.

The funeral. Just thinking of it made my eyes water. Still...I had to hold it together for everyone else.

I headed back into my mother's house. Hopefully, Stacy or Kelly would call me tomorrow. Then we could see what to do about our father.

***

My eyes widened. "What?"

The funeral home director kept talking. For my mother's sake, I stayed quiet. For my sake, I used my multitasking abilities, listening to what the funeral home director said and thought about what he revealed.

The funeral arrangement...had already been made. They had been made without my father's family approval. Most importantly, they had been made without my approval.

There was something even more important than that however.

The funeral arrangement had been last night...by Stacy and Kelly.

I frowned. The funeral arrangement had been made while I was town. They knew I was in town because I had called. They knew I was in town and didn't invite me...the person Dad was closest to.

But that...was nothing compared to the lie the funeral home director tried to dish out. He claimed my dad named no beneficiary. I glared at him like I was about to devour him with Phoenix Force energy.

You see...Dad had told me in June of 2009...that I was the beneficiary.

***

Kelly was all apologizing. She said she was not trying to be a bitch. Funny...since she had only showed up at my mother's house due to me calling my other sister Stacy out on them doing the funeral arrangement without me or my brother.

Then Kelly wanted my social security number. I claimed to be too in grief to do that now. Really, I had no intention of giving that up. If I'm not giving it to my mother who I trust, I sure was not giving it to a sister who just proved I could not trust.

My mother and I continued to go about town, taking care of Dad's loose ends. Each place we went to...led to a dead end.

Most of those dead ends...were blocks my sister Kelly had put up. I couldn't look at my father's medical records. I couldn't have my father's car (not that that stop my mother ;)) All of these little things that I had a right to...not only as the beneficiary but as the oldest son...was denied me. I had never felt so gut punched. I had never felt so hurt. And yet...I had to keep it together. Every place I went with my mother, it was harder for Mom to keep it together. And someone had to.

***

The day of the funeral arrived. I was tense. The truth of the beneficiary had come out...due to my uncle's pulling of strings which scared the funeral home director. That...and mu wrath at catching him in a lie a my father's wake. All the paperwork was to be corrected.

And then the slights started.

First, it began with my sisters. Kelly decided not to ride in the family with the family. Stacy was a no show. Neither talked or acknowledged me like I had done something wrong.

Then there was the funeral itself. After being promised that she would be in the program, my mother was 'accidentally' not in it. My father's family choir who were in the program 'accidentally' could not make it. Stacy did pop up at the church, sitting by me but no acknowledgment. And worse of all, a minister up there, talking about greed for reasons that had nothing to do with my father.

Whom funeral was this? Surely not my father's.

And the best for last...

We walked together the burial ground. My mother cried the whole way. She held on to me. I kept it together because someone had to.

I sat next to Kelly. The woman minister talked about having a bible made with my father's name on it. And she took that bible...and gave it to Kelly.

Of all of my siblings, I was the one who was closest to my father. The vibe at the burial matched that fact judging by the looks of all as Kelly was given the bible. The faces of my father's siblings said the same thing: why was the girl who really never hanged around with the family given this bible? Why did she know?

"It's time to go."

I frowned at the woman minister...who happened to be the limo driver. It had not even be five minutes after the bible giving. Dad had not even been buried yet. I was mourning with my cousin.

And I had to go?

WTF?

I looked out the window. We were being dropped off at my uncle's house. The church was suppose to have food there.

My mother was in the front seat with the limo driver. She touched the driver's arm, explaining about the fact my father had named me beneficiary and that I should have had more say. The limo driver looked at her and said Kelly's name was on the paper and that was who she answered to.

"Paper can be corrected," I put in.

"And who are you?"

And it was in that moment that I snapped.

All of it. The scheming behind my back. The hurt in my mother's eyes over my father being gone. The way people denied me when it was my right to take care of my father's affairs. Being denied being acknowledged as his son. Flat out denied a right to even mourn him. As if I was not there.

"Who am I?" I uttered, the icy tone hinting at what was about to happen. "I am Diego. I am his OLDEST son. I am the beneficiary."

From there? The woman was verbally roasted alive.

This woman had taught three generations of my family. All three generations have called her a bitch. Including my wacky sister. So she got a lot of pleasure out of watching me go off on her in front of my nieces and nephew.

Highlights included:

"You think we're just driving in this limo for our health? Do you not wonder why Kelly isn't in here? She know what she did and SHE WAS WRONG FOR IT!"

"Without my signature, you would have NOTHING. The wake...the funeral...burial...I paid for that. Not her."

And...

"I do not appreciate you disrespecting my mother. Me. And that stops NOW."

Bitch sure did shut up.

We were dropped off at my uncle's house. The Bitch stumbled out words of apology. I ignored her, letting my mother deal with that.

Meanwhile, Kelly's car decided to show up. My eyes narrowed on her. The Bitch ran off to the car. I was sure that she was telling Kelly what was up like a good little spy.

Then...Kelly's car sped down the street like a bat out of hell. I glared after her. She had not say anything to me besides asking for my social security number. As if she care about our father. She just wanted his money.

"Go, Bitch!!!" I yelled after her. "GO!!!"

BARGAINING

I expected the day to be wearing on me. To that end, I called in my friends. And after the funeral, I had gone nuclear.

I did not want to deal with the anger. I did not want to deal with the pain. I wanted to be numb.

I brought the wine to my lips. I sat in the guest room. My mind thought about the fact I felt so utterly alone.

My family was there. My friends texted regularly enough. Still, there was really no one there to hold my hand like a wife or a girlfriend would. I had to be strong. For my mother. For my family. For more drama. All I wanted to do was fall apart in someone's arms.

Fall apart...in Frenchman's arms.

Frenchman had lost his father. Frenchman could always smooth over my mood. I just felt that he could be in the room with me...and just be. No pressure. No talking. Just be. His very presence keeping me calm.

But...Frenchman wasn't there. I wasn't even talking to him. My anger and pride over what happened kept me from re-establishing any connection.

Funny how death makes one cut through the bullshit.

I missed him. I missed my Dad. And as I drank the wine, I felt completely alone.

***

"You have hair."

"Where the hell have you been?"

Four years.

It had been four years since I've been back in Little Rock at the club. Four years and security still knew me. I must have been a bad boi when I went there with Cor, Ken, and Mims. Now my friend Tina took me so I didn't have to think of my father.

And...nothing had changed.

Tina had a great time watching me dance. The same ole trolls were there even though four years had passed. I even ran into the guy who trained me at the deli...all grown up. Hmmm.

But through all that...all the numbness, the drunkness, and the dancing...the same thought came to mind.

My father was dead. He had died before he and my mother could patch things back up...which they were on their way to doing before he died. In a way...he had died alone. That could easily be me.

My thoughts turned to Frenchman as Tina drove me home. And drunk, I talked to her about it. I talked about the things that happened. I mourned about the things that were said. And now with my father gone, Frenchman was heavily on my mind.

I would do anything to not have this feeling.

To not be alone.

And the last time I was not alone was when I was with Frenchman. I've been pretty alone ever since. Maybe when I went back to San Diego, I could contact Frenchman.

Maybe.

ACCEPTANCE

The good news was that I was left alone. As my nieces and nephew ran about my mother's house, my mother's room was off limit. I was restlessly sleep in there.

Then there was the bad news. It was the day after. It was the next day. My father was still gone.

Eventually, I sat up in the bed. My mind was not all there though. It rolled the events of yesterday around in it. My eyes watered.

I heard my mother's voice in the background. My eyes continued to water. Perhaps it was the silence. Or the memories that popped up as I heard my mother's voice. It could have even been the fact this was the first thing I did not have to deal with drama, allowing me to feel my loss.

Or it was all of the above?

My mother walked into her room. She frowned.

"Diego?" No answer, except my quivering lips. "Diego, what's wrong? What--"

I ran to her. My arms wrapped around her. Water ran from my eyes. Sobs escaped my lips.

"What do I do? What am I going to do? I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do," I cried.

I don't know what to do.

For so long, my father was the one I ran to for advice. Now, I did not have him.

How did I go on...now that he was gone?

How?

Diego


 

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