Fueled by Ramen and cheap beer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somedayseattle) wrote2023-02-20 04:08 pm
somedayseattle) wrote2023-02-20 04:08 pm
just tell me what you want
Yesterday was MeDad’s birthday. He was born 81 years ago. Unfortunately he died at 59. Mom‘s birthday was last Sunday. She was a year and a week older than dad and never let him forget. My dad passed on April 21, 2001. He lived slightly more than two months after his 59th birthday. My 59th birthday was December 29 of last year. That means in the beginning of March I will have outlived my father. He accomplished a tremendous amount more in his life than I have. He and mom moved away from their family in New York to seek a better life. He raised three children. He built his own house. He had a new truck every two or three years. Nothing I’ve done with my life compares to any of this.
MeDad dropped out of school in sixth grade so he could go to work. He was the oldest of four boys and had to support the family because his father ran off to Florida with some random whore waitress. His father came back to NY, kidnapped the boys and took them to Florida. My dad did not tolerate that. In the middle of the night he snuck his brothers out of the house and hitchhiked back to New York. He was a carpenter from the day he first saw a hammer and remained one until his dying day.
My father grew up in different times than these. I don’t compare myself to him because of that. He contracted diverticulitis when he was 56 or 57 and it eventually cost him his life. He deserved more time on this planet. He and mom were going to retire and live out their golden years together.
Neither of my parents deserved their ultimate fates.
MeDad dropped out of school in sixth grade so he could go to work. He was the oldest of four boys and had to support the family because his father ran off to Florida with some random whore waitress. His father came back to NY, kidnapped the boys and took them to Florida. My dad did not tolerate that. In the middle of the night he snuck his brothers out of the house and hitchhiked back to New York. He was a carpenter from the day he first saw a hammer and remained one until his dying day.
My father grew up in different times than these. I don’t compare myself to him because of that. He contracted diverticulitis when he was 56 or 57 and it eventually cost him his life. He deserved more time on this planet. He and mom were going to retire and live out their golden years together.
Neither of my parents deserved their ultimate fates.