Monday, June 15, 2015

My Father's Eyes
























My Father’s Eyes
I came across a photo of my father that appeared to catch him unawares, in a moment of deep thought or great conflict, a pose I was not use to seeing, as most of our family photos His domineer was always happy. This caused me to wonder, at that moment, did he know then, where his future was heading? Was he making his plan at that very moment? Was he weighing the consequences? These questions lye heavy on my mind as I struggle to hold on to the precious few memories I have.  
I remember how his blue eyes sparkled when he smiled, his teeth were a strait as they could be and his face was handsome yet rugged at the same time, his hair was a curly dark brown almost black, and his brow was thick and dark, and he stood just over six feet tall.
            I remember his hands, big, strong, and worn, they told the story of a man who used his hands to make his way in life, and his shirts always had tiny burn holes, caused by the misguided sparks of the welder’s wand.
            I remember his voice, soft and comforting, yet authoritative when it needed to be, but always full of love and affection, and a laugh that could fill any room.
            I remember how it felt to sit in his lap and lye my head on his large chest, listening to the beat of his heart, it was safe, and sometimes I’d lye there until I fell asleep, then he would carry me off to bed, and lean over to kiss my cheek.
            I remember him picking me up and whirling me around the room singing “Why don’t you love me like you use to do? How come you treat me like a worn out shoe? My hair is still curly and my eyes are still blue. Why don’t you love me like you use to do?”
            To me he was a gentle giant, and the center of my world. He had a way of touching the heart of those he loved. His five sisters and one brother adored him, to them he was what bound them together. I think of all their seven children, his parents favored him the most, though he was not angel by any means, but he did possess a quality that drew people toward him, that made him easy to love, and he loved in return.
            Of his three children, I was his only girl, and for that he made me feel special, and I knew it, and so did all of our family. My mother mostly favored the boys, but I didn’t mind, because Daddy could fill any void.     
            On a warm night in early June 1967 the world as we knew it was going to come to a horrific end.  A few weeks before Daddy and Mom had not been getting along for some time. They decided to take a break and so Daddy moved to a place of his own. My brothers were asleep in a room they shared at the beginning of the hall, I was in my own room fast asleep at the end of the hall. I was wakened by the sound of crashing glass, so I got out of bed to see what had happened, as I made my way down the dark hallway I came to the bathroom which had an exterior door that opened to the backyard which had a window in the top panel. I noticed the window was shattered and then I realized I was standing in the shattered glass, I remember being more curious than scarred, as I made my way to the end of the hallway, at the very moment I caught the eye of my cousin Vicki, who was staying the night after babysitting, because my Mom had to work, she picked me up and took me into my brothers’ room, she told to lay down and go back to sleep, everything is okay, and please do not come out of this room.  As I began to doze off I heard a commotion erupting inside and outside of the house, I began to feel a great since of dread, that something was terribly wrong. I quietly got out of bed, being careful not to wake my little brother, I walked to the door opening it just a crack, to take a peek at what was going on and spotted a red glow that seemed to fill the dark house, I walked slowly to the living room, which is also open to the dining room, and the red glow changed from a glow to a red strode of lights that shown through the curtains in the front and the back of the house, I could hear many voices, asking questions, crying, screaming, this was certainly much too much for my seven year old mind to process, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember opening the curtain in the dining room to look outside, and then somebody swooped me up and everything went blank. Why did it go blank? Did I see something I wasn’t meant to see? Is that even possible? These are question that I do not want answered. The kind you know will change your life.
            According to my Mom, this is what happened. My mother came home from work around mid-night, she was watching TV with my cousin, when my Father came to the door at 1:30 a.m., he wanted to talk to my Mom, she lets him and one thing leads to another, then the yelling starts, starting yet another fight, but this fight was not going to be like any other fight because unbeknownst to my Mom, my Father had brought a 30 gauge shot gun with him, which he hid outside the front door before he came knocking. He told my Mom he could not live without his family, then he walked over to her, picked her up, and carried her outside the front door, stopping to pick up his gun, then proceeded to carry her around the house and into the backyard. At this point my Mom is terrified, I can only imagine what is going through her mind, and she must have thought this is going to be my last day on this sweet earth. He sat her down ordering her not to move and bangs the butt of the gun on the ground, my mother is screaming for her life when my cousin comes running into the backyard just as he bangs the butt of the gun the third time, and he pulls the trigger with the gun pointed under his chin, and my Mom and cousin looking on. In an instant he was gone. The police said there were four extra shells in his pocket, which might have been an indication it was not only his life he planned on ending. Maybe my cousin being there changed his mind, but we will never know.
            I cannot hate my Father, because for all the sorrow he caused, it is his goodness I choose to remember, his love I’ll never forget, and the blue eyes I inherited from him. I’ve always been told I have my Fathers eyes. In some ways I’m still that seven year old little girl, because I never had a chance to know him any other way.
R.I.P Daddy

The End

No comments: