Please Understand Why

Painted hero

Dear Father,

     November 29th, Jean and I just got out of the movies when I saw that your "step" son text me saying you had passed. I couldn't believe it. My stomach did drop and my eyes teared up. I called him to confirm that it was you. Since you apparently converted to Muslimism. So that's why you had to be buried that Sunday which was too soon. Also, Jean and I wouldn't have been in town by then. The people messed up and instead of mummifying you they embalmed you. So, no more Muslim funeral which I honestly had a big issue with because your girlfriend and her kids were forcing us to wrap our heads. Fuck that. Mom called us off of school for the week. I'm glad because oh boy, this hurt a lot more than I thought. I was spontaneously crying all week. It was so unorganized. Like you, so it was fitting. 

The visitation was the first thing we did. All of your kids we're there. Even Junior came from Japan and our sister. Your "step" daughter looked at me and my "twin" then said to our brother who was dressed up nice. "It's trashy to wear jeans, the least you could do is dress nice." First of all, you're in there butt ass naked. You would have wanted us to come as we are. Plus, we were wearing black jeans, you know the fancy jeans. So, we were ready to slap the shit out of her. When we got into the building, Nana told us that she already told you goodbye many, many times. She'd only come with us if we really needed her. Luckily for us, you had a lot of kids so we had our own support group. We walked in and the air was stiff. You were laying on a gurney with just a hospital sheet over you. Your girlfriend? Allowed us, kids, to go first, she and her kids waited in the back of the room. Jean and I handle hands while we enter then Jean hid her face in my chest when we saw you. I tried to keep all the tears in. I've cried too much for you. You are sure as hell do not deserve it. Each of us went to us and saw you up close. Jean and I hesitated but we went. You look like you never aged. The only sign of aging was the grey in your goatee. Us kids stood back so the others could come up. Junior was pissed that you had to die for us to get together. The second oldest burst into tears when she found out Jean heard the news on her birthday. Speaking of which Jean and I joked saying "He always had perfect timing, huh?" "There he goes fucking shit up again." We found it funny. When the others were 7 saying goodbye, I stepped out. 

I went with Nana and she asked me how I was and I told, "I'm good Nana, I said "my goodbye two years ago when I last saw him. I did that for me. It hurt but I needed too." She said in a soft voice, "I understand baby, he wasn't good to you or your momma but remember that he did love you dearly." of course she said it in her grandma's voice that can break you at the sound but all I could do was nod. She had paperwork to do so I went back to the kids. Your girl's kids were sitting so my sister and brother and I all stood over you. I could have sworn you were moving. Then my brother said, "I think he's breathing." My "twin" said, "I thought I was the only one who was seeing it." I chimed in, "He would fake his death to trick us all to get here." They both nodded and we laughed. Then we started to tell stories and reminisce. We all agreed on getting ice cream afterward. So that's what we did, we went to a cold stone ice cream place. We took pictures and acted like crackheads because it is in our blood. Nobody finished their ice cream. We had fun. Then we went home. I went home to the guy who has been a good father this whole time. 

The funeral came and oh boy. When we got there everyone was surprised that I grew up? All us kids sat together in the back two rows. I guess you can tell where we stand with you... for the most part. Guess who wore ripped jeans and a white dirty shirt? You're 'step' daughter that's who. My sister and I were not afraid to point it out. Nana was late but we were all okay with it. Your real father made all of us speak. I wasn't prepared. Do I give these people the truth? Or do I sugar coat it? By the time it reached me, I knew I would have felt guilty if I didn't tell the truth. My voice cracked and I knew if I looked at mom I would have cried. I said 

"Hi, I'm Unknown, Second to the youngest. I never really knew him. I last saw him two years ago. His last words to me were 'I love you' and I'm so glad that that's what I have. Because that's what I get to remember for the rest of life. Like I've said we weren't close in any means. I watched his life through Facebook. That sucks a ton. But that's how it was. Yep. *long pause trying to contain myself* This was a lot harder than I could ever expect. *Whispers* rest easy father." 

That was it. I had the mic to my older sister and booked it. Everyone clapped and yelled encouragements at me. Then I made it back and my "twin" mouthed 'I love you, it's okay'. When I sat down momma grabbed my hand. I looked at her just to see her crying. I made her cry, oops. After we said our peace nana showed up along with you. Some of the kids joined nana. I didn't. They did a Muslim prayer and they kept mentioning how much of a womanizer you were. Not appropriate, sort of. They keep mentioning how much of a good father you were. Explain to me how the fuck you were still considered a good father after 9/10 said you were there for them in their life. Last time I checked that doesn't make you a good fucking father! In the end, the rush all the kids out to go eat first. We weren't allowed to seeing the urns. We had to stand and take photos for your imprisoned brother. After learning more about him. He deserves his time. He went downstairs and ate really bad food. I ate greens and they were good. I was shocked when the fried chicken was bad. All these black people and the chicken wasn't good? Okay. The siblings talked together and when coming downstairs. I said out loud to no one. "Man, a warning would have been nice, I could have practice speaking in the mirror or something." My 'twins' girlfriend started cracking up. My 'twin' turned to me and said: "Same, just a little something ya know." We mostly ate cookies. After we all took more fucking photos. Then we talked to nana. Momma was getting low and needed to eat so we went and got food. Once we got home, I ate then I went looking for my dad. I found him and I hugged him. Trying not to cry. I was lucky to have him. He was so supportive.  

I want to talk about everything you have done. Everything. During the funeral, they painted you like some good well-rounded holy man. We all know you weren't. You were never a good father. You never paid child support. You were rude and mean with the kids you loved so much. You were absent for all 10 of your children. They had to contact you! You ever mean to the mothers. I know you were rude to mine. You hurt her. You yelled and raged and you hurt her. You hit her, that makes you a lowlife worthless man. You abused alcohol. Drank it like water. You sold drugs on the job as law enforcement. Could you be any stupider? You've possibly used drugs. I'm not for sure about that. I cried out for your love and attention. In my defense, it wasn't in a good way but you threaten to cut my breast off. Who says that to a little girl? Let alone pull out a knife as you say those things. You were manipulative and evil. You smoked these huge cigars, forgetting the fact that your lungs were shit and your daughter was a bad asthmatic. Kidney failure, multiple heart attacks, seizures, high cholesterol, obesity. I could go on but I don't wish to bore myself. You were a shitty person. I hope you are burning for all that you have done. You don't deserve a peaceful rest. Nay Nay, death was a gift. Thank that god of yours. 

Painted Hero, 

Unknown