Thursday is my birthday…and the first anniversary of the death of bio-dad.
I never did come up with a name for him. If I just say “dad” I’m referring to the man who raised me. Bio-dad just kinda contributed some DNA and hit the road. Well…almost.
He is not a subject I can discuss with anyone but myself so as usual I’ll leave it here so my brain can move on.
Bio-dad sounds like a super hero name. I guess he could have been. Maybe I’ll throw that one out to my brother for laughs.
I do have some very vivid memories of the guy though. He gave me my first lil diary thing as soon as I learned to write. I still have it somewhere and even though most of it is written in highlighter (why do kids love them so much?) it’s a precious lil piece of personal history.
It’s a shame he couldn’t fix himself. I think he would have been a cool person. He was a high school drop out but evidently this was due to boredom. The man was smart. Weird…but incredibly intelligent. And a hippy I guess. School was just another institution to stand against. He loved learning and encouraged us to be educated though. I remember that.
He was an artist. I remember him and his guitars. If he picked one up Mike and I knew we’d be unsupervised for hours. He just zoned. He played Moonshadow by Cat Stevens to put us to bed sometimes. You’d be asleep til the bridge where the it gets kinda loud. (“Did it take long to find me I asked the faithful light…”) Zoned as he was he never failed to wake us up with that. I’ve been told that was the most mainstream song he knew though. Rebel that he was, he hated radio music. So they tell me anyway…I still can’t listen to Stairway to Heaven though. He knew it. Maybe he lied to everyone else.
He named me. Apparently it had a ton of meaning to him but he never told me that story. Mom tried but it was over her head I guess. Something sarcastic about Cardinal Woolsy, the man that helped Henry the VIII revolutionize the Catholic Church. Bio-dad hated Catholics. I’ll never understand it though because I’m not one myself. I’ll probably just change my name.
He truly loved my mother. I could sense that much even as a young kid. I think he probably loved her still when he died. It seemed like that kind of thing.
I’ll never understand addiction and therefor addicts but I’m old enough now to be sad for him. I really think he’d have stopped if he could. By the time he did get clean, I’m sure he felt it was too late. He was probably right.
He dedicated the last half of his life to a homeless shelter/rehab farm thing though and that’s something. It seems he touched a lot of lives that way. I hope he got some peace.
Mike gets personally offended by these things if I try to talk to him about it. I get that. My theory is that having a son scared the shit out of bio-dad though. He didn’t really have a dad himself. It’s possible that a fear like that kept him from ever really trying. It might make substance abuse more appealing as well. We’ll never know.
We didn’t go to that funeral. I could tell Mike wasn’t up for it so I let it go. I gotta say…I was pretty curious. I guess my method of coping has been turning the man into a good story; a mystery to be solved.