Requiem for a Father

Requiem for a Father

"In the end, fiction is the craft of telling truth through lies."
― Lauren Groff

This story is a work of fiction.

Please read past the first few paragraphs, it is probably different from what you were thinking.

As there is really no sex in this story, I have placed this in the Non-Erotic section.

As I sat in my home office going through my emails I saw it, oh good I thought. It was the notification from Ancestry saying they had the results of my DNA sample. I called out to my wife, "My DNA is in!"

"That's nice dear," replied my preoccupied wife from the living room where she was watching yet another Hallmark murder mystery, unrequited love story, cooking movie. Or were they baking goods for a festival? I would never live in one of Hallmark's small towns; everybody gets murdered while they are eating pastry or reading poetry.

My boys had finally cajoled me into submitting my sample. They, and my wife had already done it some time ago and it turned out that the three of them had rather fascinating ancestry trees. They all had spent hours doing further research, comparing notes with relatives, etc. and were anxious for me to do mine. I found my wife's to be most fascinating. Her mixed heritage could be traced across 5 continents. It followed that our children had varying degrees of the same lineage.

I had explained to all three that mine would be boring and would only offer insight into the northern European heritage of the boys. From stories and family histories related to me while growing up I had accepted that while my ancestors were not all that discriminating with whom they slept with, they only slept with Europeans. I am about as "vanilla" as you can get! As I said, pretty dull.

Not that it is necessarily important to this story but I should probably tell you a little about our family. I am Tim Jones; my wife Debbie and I are both in our mid 50's and have been married for over 30 years. And, it's been a great 30 years. We have experienced trials and tribulations like any long term marriage and survived them all. Our older son Daniel is 28, and our younger, Steven is 22. They have given our lives meaning since the days they were born.

As I clicked through the website's pages, I finally waded through the sales pitches and other extraneous stuff, I came to it. There it was, as plain as day in the Immediate Family section. Both my boys were my children. I turned my head to the door and yelled out to my wife, "You're off the hook dear, both boys are my sons!"

"I told you I always made the mailman wear a condom sweetheart!"

I just laughed and shook my head. God I loved her.

The truth of the matter is that after all these years, probably the only thing my wife could do to separate us, is tell me she didn't want to be with me anymore and walk out the door. She was my rock and had been since the day we were married. When I looked at the next table in the report I would come to understand just how important to me she was.

I thought that odd that none of my siblings were listed under Immediate family. They told me I would be the last to do it. Maybe they didn't authorize the release their data to the public data base. Right below Immediate Family in the Close Family section was a few of my cousins and incredibly, my two sisters! Was that a mistake? I noticed one cousin, Mona, had a significantly higher number of matching cM's than the others. What was up with that? A little more research and the answer hit me right between the eyes. The two sisters that I thought were my full sisters were only half sisters and the person I thought was my cousin, was also my half sister! At that point my world stopped.

I don't know how much time had elapsed when I heard Debbie calling out to me, "Sweetheart what's wrong? You're scaring me. I have been standing here calling you for 5 minutes."

All I could do was point to the screen and show her what I had discovered. She simply said, "Oh my."

I was overcome with emotion. "Jesus, how could this have happened? My mother and my uncle, oh my god, he knew!"

"Tim, what are you saying?" Debbie wrapped her arms around me and was trying desperately to console me. "Tim, listen to me. It was a long time ago. It isn't that bad. Calm down sweetheart, please I'm begging you. It really doesn't change anything."

"Deb, you don't understand." You just don't understand. I hated him! He went to his grave with me hating him!"

"What are you talking about? Debbie was close to tears now herself seeing and understanding the pain I was experiencing.

"My father knew Deb, he must have known the truth! That is what I am saying. Oh Christ, what a mess this is."

I reminded Debbie that when my father died over 15 years ago she didn't really know him all that well because he was sick for 10 years with Alzheimer's. That is a terrible way to go. First you forget who your family and friends are. Then you forget who you are, and finally your body forgets how to breathe and mercifully you die. If there is a god, he is one sick motherfucker to let that happen to one of his children. Well then fuck him!

I joked with my wife often that when that starts to happen to me, I am just going to drink the poison laced Kool Aide. Of course by that time I will probably forget where I put the Kool Aide! I think I am just joking?

So as we sat together, I started telling Deb about my relationship with my father.

" My Dad died without us ever reconciling. He didn't like me and I didn't like him. It was pretty simple really. I know all kids at one time or another, think one or both parents hate them. But, my three siblings noticed the difference by the time we were teenagers. And of course being loving brother and sisters they were very sympathetic to my plight.

"Of course they weren't! They were my loving brother and sisters so they teased the shit out of me about it. They did all thank me though, because my Dad was a tough son of a bitch, and because he hated me the most, he would sometimes be too tired to hate on the siblings after dealing with me.

"You have to be old enough to understand how parenting in the best of circumstances was different in the 1950's and 60's. In those days, any parent of any child could discipline any kid without fear of retribution. I remember one time when one of the neighbor kid's father showed up at our doorstep to complain about something that I or my brother had supposedly done. When my Dad opened the door all the neighbor had an opportunity to say was, 'Do you know what your boys did today?'

"My Dad interrupted him, 'Hold on a minute.' He turned to look at the two of us hiding around the corner and crooked his finger at us in a come here motion. When we got within range he hauled off and slapped the both of us upside our heads. He turned back to the neighbor man and offered, 'I'm sorry Jim. It won't happen again.'

'Thanks Don, nice talking to you,' and he turned away from the door.

'You too Jim.'

"In addition to us having a headache we both got grounded for two weeks. My Dad never asked what it was we were supposed to have done. It didn't matter. In those days the worst possible threat any adult, school teacher, parent, store clerk, or even a police officer could make was 'Do I need to talk to your father?' Those words generally got instant cooperation from the offending kid.

"Our parents grew up during the Great Depression and WWII. They led difficult lives and they didn't give a shit about their kids self esteem. They wanted to make their children hard enough to survive in a tough and uncaring world. They saw that as their duty first. They really didn't suffer any anxiety wondering if you liked them or not.

"But with all that being said, I was still treated differently. Don't misunderstand me. I always had new clothes at the start of the school year. I got a birthday party just like everyone else. I was fed well. All of my basic essentials were being met by my father. He just didn't like me and I had no idea why."

At this point my wife interrupted me, "Ah honey, remember I grew up in the same world you did, so I get it, but you still haven't given me enough information to explain why you think he knew you weren't his biological son."

"Ok, I'm sorry, but I'm having trouble making coherent thoughts. Everything is coming back to me in jumbled images of visual and auditory flashes."

I continued my surfacing recollections as they came to the forefront of my mind and relayed them to Debbie. "My Mom was definitely my protector when I was growing up. And I needed protecting a lot! But, she never did this with my other siblings. In fact, my Dad was sometimes their protector from her. NEVER with me.

"When I was twelve years old baseball was my true passion in life. I loved to play it, watch it, and study it. I used to walk to the local sporting goods store, Conlin Brothers, just to smell the gloves. I liked the smell of new leather, but loved the smell of a well oiled glove even better. One day while in the store checking out the gloves I saw it and fell in love with a professional grade Rawlings infielder's glove. I guess that was my first true love. I had to have that glove but it cost $40. That was in 1965 dollars so I don't know but given the inflation rate what that would be nowadays, $500?

"At any rate I did chores, odd jobs, and collected pop bottles for what must have been six months. I also saved birthday money and sold off some of my baseball cards, including a Pete Rose Topps 1963 Rookie Card that I think I got $1 for from a friend and I figured I snookered him. A dollar was a lot of money!

"My Mom knew what I was doing, but for some reason asked me not to tell my Dad. When I finally had enough money, she took me to buy it. I kept the glove over my face the whole way home just smelling it. It was great!

"But when we got home I was really proud of the fact that I had saved up my money to buy the glove and I showed it to him and explained how I had done it. He snatched the glove out of my hand and starting yelling at my mother at the top of his lungs while shaking the glove at her. He virtually ignored me but left her in tears. He said a lot of terrible things to her, but the one comment that always stuck with me was when he said,

'How could you let him be so irresponsible? Oh yeah, that's because you are!' He roared. He threw the glove on the kitchen floor in disgust and stomped off.

"Watching the exchange I of course became furious with him and started to say something, but my mother put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it hard so I remained silent; a fact that I regret to this day. My mother was inconsolable, but warned me to stay away from him before she left the house. She didn't return until late that night. I never understood why?"

Debbie had tears in her eyes, but still doubted what I knew to be the truth. "Sweetheart that doesn't prove anything."

"I know it doesn't but when we were little I heard many stories from my grandmother about how close my dad and uncle were growing up. They did everything together. They grew up in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. They spent their summers and weekends hiking, hunting, and fishing in the mountains. She always talked about them staying close as they grew into teenagers and young men. They tended to date in a group, including the same neighborhood girls which my mother was part of. Grandma use to talk wistfully about the old days and how much fun she had watching them grow up. The first time they were apart was when the war started and they enlisted. My dad in the navy and Uncle Thomas in the army. She told me that as she remembered it, sometime after the war ended she realized they were never really that close any longer. She always believed the war caused that.

"They both started families and they rarely saw each other. In fact I remembered that we only got together with Uncle Thomas' family once or twice a year. After grandma passed away those few visits stopped completely. Now it makes sense.

"Deb, you know I was drafted back in 1972?" In fact I was one of the last men in this country to be drafted. Talk about luck, I was number 66 in the lottery; my brothers and all my friends didn't have a number lower than 250. The fact that the Vietnam war was winding down, at least the US' direct combat role in it was lost on me. I was 19 years old and scared shitless. My Dad drove me to the induction center.

"I guess my mother couldn't bring herself to do it because although I had no idea at the time, she had been involved for several years in helping draft dodgers get to Canada. I was thinking I might never see my family or friends again. My father never even parked his truck; he just stopped at the curb of the induction center, stuck his hand out, and wished me luck. He barely glanced my way and then drove off so quickly I scarcely had a chance to close the door. He sped away without looking back."

"Oh my god Tim, I had no idea."

"Yeah, well there were dozens of other incidents, but thinking back my uncle made a comment to me once that should have made more sense. Do you remember that family picnic we were at when the boys were just little kids?"

"Oh yeah, the one where the family came from all over the country. Wasn't it more like a reunion?"

"That's the one. Everyone was off doing something and I was sitting quietly at a table off to the side sipping a beer and my uncle came up and sat with me. I hadn't even seen him in over 5 years. We talked about nothing really, I think it was sports or that sort of thing. As he stood up to leave he shook my hand with a really firm grip. It looked like he was tearing up, and he said softly. "You've become a fine young man, and I know you are going to be a great Dad. I'm proud of you.'

"I remember thinking what the hell was that all about? I hope I don't get that weird when I'm old and thought nothing more about it until right now."

Deb let out a small yelp and her face had a look of shock and awareness as she put her hand over her mouth. "That's why she never left him!" She practically shouted at me.

You see, after all but the youngest of their children left home my father was involved in a long term affair with a woman at the school he taught at. What was going on was common knowledge, my mother had even tried to get me involved to talk with my dad to get him to stop. Yeah like that was going to happen. It was almost as if he were throwing the affair in her face.

"Why don't you just leave the SOB and get on with your life?" I asked more than once, but she never did. She had told me that you just don't leave someone you've been with your whole life over something like this. The truth of the matter was that because of his affair both of our parents lost a lot of respect from their children. My father, because he was a cheater and a liar, and our mother because we felt she was a doormat.

Our mother regained our respect after my father got sick because she never left his side. For ten years she was a nursemaid to him. She didn't put him into a home until very near the end. She put her whole life on hold for a man who had shit all over her. Why would someone in her circumstance do that? Now we know.

"I guess I understand now. But, what are you going to do? Your father and your uncle are all long gone. Only your mother is left and she is 83 years old! You can't talk to her about it, can you?"

"I don't have a clue." Suddenly I felt 83 years old.

"You're going to have to address it though sooner or later because your cousin and sisters are going to get a notice from Ancestry, if they haven't already, about a new relative.

"Shit, that's right. I wonder if anyone else knows. My dad surely did, and my uncle. I suppose there is a slim chance that my mom didn't know? Not likely."

I felt that a good start for me would be to get drunk and pass out. Then I would figure out what to do from there. I got up and headed to my bar where an 18 year old bottle of Glen Livet was waiting for me. You are familiar with the old saying , in vino veritas? (in wine, there is truth) well in a good scotch there lay answers.

My wife had the good sense to leave me alone for the rest of the evening, but enough perception to periodically check on me to make sure I wasn't lying face down on the floor. The truth was though I didn't really drink all that much. There was way too much noise inside my head and I was desperately trying to clear it out. The one overriding thought I had was that my whole life had been a lie? And, what was I going to do about it.

In the morning I knew what I had to do. The first thing was to talk with Cousin Mona. It was a long shot, but maybe she knew things and could shed some light.

Mona answered her phone on the first ring. "Hey Tim, so I guess you know. She said it without emotion.

I was silent for a bit but asked "When did you find out?"

"I suspected something for a long time, but only knew for sure when I saw it in Ancestry."

"What made you suspicious? I never even had an inkling."

"First of all, even though we rarely saw each other, I always felt a closeness to you that was different than the rest of the cousins. I couldn't begin to tell you why and I only thought about it as a possibility when my dad was dying. Two days before he passed he handed me a sealed envelop with your name written on it. He told me to give it to you after he died."

"Shit Mona he's been dead for 10 years or more, how come you never gave it to me?"

"The truth is, I forgot about it. As he was in his hospital bed he had become disoriented and was saying all sorts of weird things. He kept saying he was sorry over and over. He said Please forgive me Don on several occasions. Most of the time he wasn't even lucid, so I didn't give much credence to what he was saying.

"When he handed me the letter I had been trying to comfort him as he was very agitated and I stuck it in my purse and promised him that I would. It wasn't until after his funeral that I saw it again. I just stuck it in a pile of his papers to deal with later. I spent weeks handling the many legal and estate issues that needed to be dealt with after someone dies."

"Did your mother know?"

"I doubt it; if she did she never said anything. I asked her once why Dad and Don seemed so distant from each other. You know she was part of the clan they were all in and seemed as baffled as anyone. I know grandma was sad about their estrangement.

"Anyway when I got the notification from Ancestry a lot of things made more sense and I remembered the letter and I went looking for it...."

I know I sounded desperate but I broke in and asked, "Did you find it." She didn't answer me right away, but I could hear her softly breathing. Was she deciding if she should tell me the truth?

"No Tim I didn't. I looked everywhere, but I didn't find it."

I wondered why she sounded so sad. In any case there would be no answers there for me either. We talked a few minutes more about nothing important and vowed to spend more time together even though we both knew it wasn't true. We were separated by more than geography. When she told me she couldn't find it that ended any chance we had. I wasn't sure what I would do in her shoes had the situation been reversed. We all have our truths and they don't necessarily ally with someone else's.

It took me several weeks to recover from the disappointment of my phone conversation with Mona but I was still determined to find answers. It had convinced me all the more that I needed to discuss it with my mother despite her frailties. But before doing so I decided to talk with my sister Teri, maybe she would know.

We played phone tag for a couple of days. She and her third husband were always trekking around the world somewhere. She claimed she dumped the first two hubbies because they cheated on her, given her personality it wouldn't have shocked me that she was the one doing the cheating, but who knows? We finally connected. After talking a short time I realized she hadn't even checked her Ancestry account. She volunteered that she never looked at it anymore because she had no interest in learning she had another 3^rd or 4^th cousin somewhere.