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Scribes
Welcome to Scribes. This is the spot where I choose a topic and just plain spout off about it. You are very much welcome/invited to e-mail me with a scribe topic and who knows...maybe.

Saturday, June 27, 1998

The death of the man.
My Father died June 23, 1998...that was Tuesday morning. He was just getting up to go to the bathroom and fell over. My Brother Richard and my Uncle both ran to help him...he would not move to end his frantic prayer. 'My Dad praying'?!!!, was my first thought.

Background
I was eleven months old when my Father left, or got kicked out of, the lives of his wife and six sons. So I guess you could say I really didn't know him at all.

All the while growing up my friends had Fathers that would do things with them, take them places...I relied on my Brother Richard... and always wanted to be just like him.

When my Father would visit I would run door to door grabbing my friends so they could see that I too had a Dad. The man looked really good from the street...THE PERFECT IMAGE!!!, tall, muscular good looking guy, so my Mother thinks. The greatest confirmation was always found in my buddies eyes.

He would visit almost every Christmas time, drink with his brothers and sing dirty limericks to me and my brothers. I wonder if this is where I got my liking for poetry.

When I was old enough to drink with him I would ask personal questions...stuff he didn't like to answer like..."Do you Love Me?", "I love all my boys" was his response. "Did you ever kill a man in combat"?(he was a marine in two different wars), No answer. The big one... "Do you believe in God"? Answer..."If there is a GOD I hope he is a benevolent and forgiving one...I have done alot of bad in my life".

There really was no reason for me to remember the "God Question" or to apply the answer to me and my siblings until I heard the man was praying when my Uncle and Brother tried to pick him up from the floor. He knew that he was dying so fast he didn't want to waste his remaining time getting off the floor.

My Loss
I am not just a Father to my children, I am "Their Dad".
I look Great not only from the road but from All directions and close up...In all eyes to boot!!!.

The passing of my Father just dumps on me the stark reality that the type of relationship that exists between my sons to me and from me to my sons will never happen with him. I would have let that happen at anytime and had I been there to see him pray...I would have screamed "I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU DAD"...however quietly.

Christopher C. Mudgett