You Only Got One

Hm, I feel that I need to get this off my chest, as this has been bothering me all day.

I wish I weren't such an asshole.
I wish I were a better son.

What makes me say this? Why, I'll tell you.

   Today, I just got a call from someone who've I've not met or heard from in a long time. My father. Last I remember meeting him was when I was in my teens. I'm in my twenties now. He had got my mobile number (something I normally just don't give out nor answer often) from my sister, who got a call from my mother, who got a call from him.It makes me sad to say it, but I near forgot about him until today.
   Now, before delving into too much personal stuff, but I feel that I need to give some background.

   My mother and father were never really together (weren't married), they just met and got along one auspicious evening and were a pair for a bit (Mom often says it's because my dad was funny that she liked him). They had me and my sister but he was really never around. He's an adventurer. An explorer. He always had to go someplace and could never sit still. I recall my mother telling stories of when he'd go (he used to be an Alaskan fisherman working as a mechanic and a fisherman) and come back after the seasons were up; I would be terrified of him because I never recognized him as he had a full, heavy beard to keep his skin from freezing in that climate.
   But I digress,  eventually, as my sister and I grew older, I started seeing less of him. I'd have to go to school, go to work, or I'd just make an excuse not to see him because I was just too either lazy or nervous to make the trip to see him. My sister is very close to my dad. She is the youngest of the family and the only female offspring my mother ever had. My father and I have this odd/old-fashioned mindset of the relationship we have. I am his male son; I'm his boy! The heir to the name and carrier of the bloodline of both families! There's a love and respect there for each other in this odd machismo, old-era fashion. It's really hard to describe. Anyhow, I spoke to him on the phone just briefly today, and without realizing it or changing it, I went through the ol' parents/child spiel of going 'Yes', 'Uh-huh', 'Yep', 'Alright' to everything he was saying. It wasn't until he said these four simple words that just hit me in the heart. Right when the conversation ended and we were to hang up, he said, "I miss you, son." and hung up.
   That killed me.
   That hit me so hard.
   The tone of his aged voice and the sadness behind it.
   It hit me where it hurt; a place I felt no longer existed.
   All those years, all those excuses, all the lies I'd just make up not to go see my man who helped in my creation. The man who did everything he could just to keep my sister, mother, and myself content with what he had. Though, he was hardly ever around because of his need to move, he still popped by to say 'Hello, how my kids doing?' and help out the best he could.
  There were moments when we didn't get along and there were golden moments, but all those times together, good or ill, come together to make what we have between us as father and son.

  Do I have daddy issues? No, but I just think back on the times where I just could've done something as simple as seeing him and backed out, and it stings me now. I feel I have to make amends. He's getting older now and he's becoming more isolated. He's got friends, sure, but he's never married and he's not had any other kids (that I know of, anyway); he's getting old and lonely. He's never been rich so he's never been one to afford and splurge on things to satisfy his mortal desires and the one thing he has in this world that kept him going for years, his kids, his son is too much of an ass to go see him from time to time.

   I'm surely venting but this is something I feel I have to rectify. Next family trip to the general area where he resides, I'm gonna go see the old man. I have to, now. No excuses.

   The moral of the story, kids: your mother, your father; treat them well because you only have one and sometimes for not that long.




...Now back to your regularly scheduled tom-foolery.