The Man Had Tubes In His Face
April 9th 2007 12:49
There was an eerie familiarity about the man who lay unconscious in the hospital bed. Tubes connected to various machines, leading to nearly every orifice on his face. Not to mention other unfortunate destinations throughout his body. At least his eyes and forehead were 'clear' of medical technology.
It had been years since I had seen him. In fact, I never knew him. I was way too young to remember when he left. Not even a year old. Quite an asshole, this guy. Drinking and carousing, while my mother took care of my older brother and myself. Story has it that while my mother was giving birth to me he was out getting drunk. In his favor, he made it to the hospital a bit late, but definitely on time to puke all over the hospital room. My dad.
I never really cared about looking the fellow up. He was just not a part of my picture. Several father figures along the way was enough for me. I suppose it didn't help that my mother resisted the TWO times in my minor years that he tried to make contact. Twice. My dad.
During my doctoral work, part of my 'growth process' was to establish a deeper knowledge of my legacy. I did some footwork, and started tracking the fellow called 'my dad' down. Little luck, and even less motivation. So I put it on the shelf.
Some time later, I got a call from a woman saying she was married to my father. They happened to be living in a town less than 50 miles away. Jesus. She suggested I may want to go to the hospital in that town and see him. He was, apparently, in bad shape. I guess alot of drinking and continuing to smoke even when you support the quarter of a lung you have left with cannisters of oxygen is not conducive to living much longer than he had to date.
There was an eerie familiarty to the fellow with all the tubes in his face. I had been looking at those eyes and forehead for my entire life.
In my mirror.
deorre
It had been years since I had seen him. In fact, I never knew him. I was way too young to remember when he left. Not even a year old. Quite an asshole, this guy. Drinking and carousing, while my mother took care of my older brother and myself. Story has it that while my mother was giving birth to me he was out getting drunk. In his favor, he made it to the hospital a bit late, but definitely on time to puke all over the hospital room. My dad.
I never really cared about looking the fellow up. He was just not a part of my picture. Several father figures along the way was enough for me. I suppose it didn't help that my mother resisted the TWO times in my minor years that he tried to make contact. Twice. My dad.
During my doctoral work, part of my 'growth process' was to establish a deeper knowledge of my legacy. I did some footwork, and started tracking the fellow called 'my dad' down. Little luck, and even less motivation. So I put it on the shelf.
Some time later, I got a call from a woman saying she was married to my father. They happened to be living in a town less than 50 miles away. Jesus. She suggested I may want to go to the hospital in that town and see him. He was, apparently, in bad shape. I guess alot of drinking and continuing to smoke even when you support the quarter of a lung you have left with cannisters of oxygen is not conducive to living much longer than he had to date.
There was an eerie familiarty to the fellow with all the tubes in his face. I had been looking at those eyes and forehead for my entire life.
In my mirror.
deorre
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Comment by Tracy
Movies and Life
I don't really know what to say other than this must've been a hard situation to be faced with. The last two lines really stood out to me.
Tracy
Comment by Deorre
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Comment by Tracy
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Comment by Lilla
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wow : poignant, pregnant and moving...
*tears* and revelations ....
Lilla ...