My Dad

 He was a liar and a master deceiver, my dad. He could talk though. Most deceivers can. Just on a whim, he could create a story. My dad always had Big Red gum with him. That cinnamon flavored gum. I didn't know then, but now after having alcohol myself, I know that it was to cover up his smoking and whiskey breath. My dad loves whiskey and he drinks it everyday. I know this because he told me 2 months ago. Sometimes you become exactly what you don't want to become. That happened to me. I never wanted to be like my dad. Loved him dearly, but his demons were not ones that I wanted to be friends with. Whether I wanted to be friends with those demons or not, they sure wanted to be friends with me. 

Come on in and have a seat, friends. I haven't seen you in years and thought you were hanging with my dad. How have you all been? Miserable? Oh, yes. They were miserable alright. I didn't kick my new friends out. In fact, the chaos that came with them felt familiar and where I felt like I belonged again. Oh, friends, could you destroy my little family too? Just like you ripped my parents apart? Oh, you can?! Goody- let's do this! I didn't know I was making friends with the tormenting chatter that would soon go on in my head. You see- once you let them inside your thoughts, they really don't like to leave. They take over any self dignity or worth that you have. It starts small. One sip. Two sips. Stop. That's how it started for me and my journey to becoming like my dad. It was just one sip of alcohol. I didn't really care much for it. I grew to care for it. I thought I needed it, just like I needed my dad's ole pals that used to play with his mind. It really didn't take too long that my thoughts of inadequacy became my actions. Completely self destructive. One thing I know about self destruction is that it hurts the bystanders watching. It hurts the people who do love you. It hurt me to watch my dad become Sunday's monster and Sundays turned into everyday. Everyday, but Saturdays. It was almost as if my dad wasn't comfortable around those happy Saturdays. Him and his demons couldn't feel comfortable around happiness. My dad would leave my mom a lot. He would go out of town for "this job" or "that job", but somehow came home with very little money. I know my mom loved my dad and just wanted him to "wake up". Oh momma, didn't you know that it wasn't about waking up? He didn't want to. He loved hanging out with "his friends". My mom, like she always did, had to come up with a plan to make more money. She was already watching a dozen kids for childcare money. We lived in a 3 bedroom home, 1 huge living room, and 1 huge kitchen. Parent's room, girls room, boys room. During nap time for the daycare kids, my mom would line mats on the living room floor for them to rest. Every single one of those daycare kids loved my mom. My mom had a way to make everyone feel loved and special. Not just her own kids. Since she was working full time during the day and taking care of her children in the evening, there was only one option in her mind. Not sleep. Work graveyard shifts somewhere. It started with her cleaning the La Verkin city offices. It was just a few hours a week, I think. I liked going with her and I am pretty sure that my siblings helped too. When I was in high school, my mom wanted to get her CNA license and asked me to do it with her. Me and my mom with her best friend Bernie, who I call my aunt, started the course. We laughed through the whole thing. Come time for the final test at Dixie State College, the silly lady at the testing center put all 3 of us in a room to take the test together. I took mine, my mom's, and my aunt Bernies test. It's a funny memory for all of us to look back on. After getting our CNA certification, my mom and I started working graveyards at Hurricane Rehabilitation Center. I'm sure that she didn't want me to work graveyards, but I couldn't sleep at home knowing my dad was asleep and she was working. How dare him. Even when I had nights off, I would visit my mom at work. I would sleep on a bench in the hallway. I just wanted to be close to her and not want her to feel alone. I knew she felt alone. Not because she told me, but I would hear her prayers. She prays out loud and for a long time. Seriously, sometimes I'd fall asleep in her bed and wake up to see she was still praying. My dad was a dreamer, alright. All dreams and no work. A bluffer. I still loved him and somehow knew that he loved me too. When he was home, he would wake me up at 5:30 in the morning to get me to my high school drill practice. He would come to my performances. He would reap the highlights of our family and walkout on the lowlights.