It was a gloomy day, but I'm pretty sure that I was in a positive mind-state. My mother, sister and I walked out the door, with no attempt to wake him up. Looking back I don't blame her, he used to throw alarm clocks. I now attribute that to a long night of using, trying to wash away his past, even for a few hours.
We got in the car to return a rented , and as I sit in the passenger seat the first thing I see is the glovebox. The first thing of I think of the time I opened it in my dads car. I barley cracked it and I saw a large package of white powder. What I now know is cocaine. He slams it shut and begins to lay into me.
As we pull out of the video rental store parking lot my mother hands me the phone with an attitude and says, "Call your fucking father." It rang to voice-mail on each of my three attempts. The whole way home if I recall correctly, my mother was complaining about my dad and how "he sleeps to much". Now thinking back I know what she wanted to say. We pul into the driveway and my mother was the first in the bedroom. She slams the door and yells at my sister and I to sit in the kitchen.
She walked out and everything seemed fine, until I saw firetrucks pull up, along with my Aunt, who took us away from this scene. I remember looking through the rear window at the scene in front of my house. It didn't real scare me. I was very confused.
As an adult I look back on this and I think, "You're really going to belittle your son, who is supposedly your best friend, for opening a glovebox that you chose to keep coke in there. The same cocaine that killed you. So selfish, taking out a life insurance policy 3 months before you died. How do you live knowing what you are doing to your family! Not even me Mommy and Caitlin! It's okay though, because you are the picture perfect example of what I don't want to be!" The experience made me numb. Instant numbness ran through my body and soul when my aunt and mother walked into my cousin room and said daddy's dead.
I held in the pain through the whole ordeal. I felt as if I was the only man left and therefor I must be strong. This all ended when the paulbarers and I walked the casket out of the church. As soon as the slow ringing bell sounded, it felt like it was then end. I want to convince myself that I was crying because of my mother and sister. Up until recently I found it easier to be angry at him, than miss him. Tearing at my soul is the thought of wanting to hug someone or even talk to them one last time. So all I do is hunt for success and understand of the universe and it's action. The stories it tells me. Great job dad, you created an arist.
- Mike Cooper