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Darth Eggplant
12-15-2003, 04:05 AM
december 15th, 1985
the day I learnt the reality
of my own mortality,
the day my father died.
I was just 23 years old.
I want to tell you of that night;
yet in order to do so,
I must first tell you
of myself and this man.

My father was born before
'The Great Depression'
as was my mother;
those were very different times
then the ones we live in today.
As children they did not have
X-Box, they were lucky if
they had food in their ice box.
My parents were young adults
during world war II
they were Swing Kids,
Big Band and Bebopping
their way into Suburbia
and the 50's
the Golden Age of
Baby Boomers.
They settled nicely into
the 'American Dream'
a home, picket fence,
dog and 2.3 children.
(I was the decimal point,
the Anomoly of their equation)
My father was a working man.
He was the salt of the earth
and the meat and potatoes
of his dining room.
He enjoyed watching sports
while drinking a beer
after a hard days work.
My father was not a tyrant,
he was not king of his castle,
he helped wash the dishes
each night with my mom,
so that they could spend
quality time with each other.
I understood my parents completely;
because I grew up watching them
watch the Brady's and Cleavers on TV.

However...they watched me grow up
watching the Addams and Munsters.
(and they simply could not relate).

Now I was born in the early 60's
Where was I when Kennedy was assassinated?
I watched The Beatles live
on the Ed Sulivan Show.
I watched Star Trek
when it wasn't a repeat.
If my parent had been flower children;
I would have been seven at Woodstock.
I saw the first man on the moon.
Malcom X,
and I sat front row
when Pink Floyd's "The Wall"
made it's cinematic release.

And yet...
through all my formitable years of Nesting,
I conformed almost flawlessly; (almost)
to my parents Sophistries and Ideologies.
I wore the department store clothes
they chose for me.
I brushed my teeth after each meal,
went to church on sunday,
always had fish on friday,
looked both ways before crossing the street.
And yet...
well my parents always said,
my dad did anyhow,
"when you grow up
and reach 18
you'll be an adult,
and then if you want to
live your life
you can,
and I won't stop you,
because you'll be an adult.
BUT until then..."
(well I think you know the drill)

And so at 18 I came of age,
and my father Could Not Comprehend me.

And So The Rift between Us began.

I grew up not liking sports.
I did not own a car.
(I have never even had a drivers licence.)
I never wanted to learn to smoke.
I do not like coffee.
I don't like beer.
(or alcohol)
I embraced Spirituality,
while turning my back on Rome.
I don't own a gun.
I have never voted.
and yet the greatest sins
I committed would be:
my single silver hoop earing;
and becoming a vegetarian for 2 years.

My brothers drank too much,
gambled excessively,
and treated women poorly.
My father did not approve
of such behaviour
as he did not raise us
to behave that way.
And yet...sad to say,
such behaviour 'Was'
and still 'Is'
considered
Socially Tolerable
and within the realms
of acceptable society.

1984 changed everything for my family.
And would for the rest of all our lives.
My father was diagnosed with cancer.
They operated and felt confident they got it all;
They did not.
And my fathers mood and spirit and health
deteriated day after day.
I worked afternoons and nights,
so I could be with him during the daytime,
in case he needed anything.
However we did not talk all that much,
so I don't know what comfort or support
either one of us were to each other.

1985 saw his health worsen
and he became hospitalized.
I continued working afternoons
so I could go to the hospital each day.
And I sat there for many hours,
days, months and eternities,
just so if he needed anything,
I could be there for him.

But the rift between us
had grown so much over the years.

we did not argue or fight,
I understoood him,
but I could not be
something I was not.
And he did not understand me,
and could not pretend,
and did not want to try.

And then one night we all visited,
and he was in good spirits.
He seemed happy,
my family left feeling optomistic.
I knew I was seeing the end.

And early the next morning,
the hospital called.
And in midnight black,
of early december snowfall,
we headed to the hospital;
only to arrive too late.
My father was dead.
It was December 15th, 1985.

In his dying moments
he asked a nurse
for pen and paper.
On that paper,
he told my mother he loved her.
He then wrote to my eldest sister
and wished her health and happiness.
Then he wrote to my older brother
words of wisdom and encouragement.
My father then wrote to my youngest brother
wishing him long life and prosperity.
and then... the ink,
like his blood stopped flowing.
my father was dead.
I never got to say goodbye.
He did not mention me at all.


Jacob Marley was as dead as a doornob,
(and so is my father)
It has been 18 long years since
that Ides of December.
I have to live constantly with;
did his strength fail him?
Or did he have nothing to say to me?
Today, this Christmas, before the New Year;
Reach out to your friends & family,
make peace with them.
I walk the earth,
especially at this festive time of year;
weighed down by the chains of 'Regrets',
'What If's' and 'Uncertainty'
Do not suffer my fate.

ET Warrior
12-15-2003, 04:08 AM
That's some deep stuff eggy.


(I dont even mind you posted it in verse this time :p)

Edit- almost forgot man, here's a hug from me *hug*

Jed
12-15-2003, 05:08 PM
I'm terribly sorry, Eggy. :(

*hugs*

Take it easy, bud.

ZBomber
12-15-2003, 05:30 PM
Thanks for sharign that with us, Eggy. :(

*hugs you*

•-BLaCKouT-•
12-15-2003, 06:17 PM
You cool Eggplant. :)

At least you understand your confusion, even if you haven't mastered it yet.
That's more than most of us have got.

Have a peaceful Holiday.

:) B.