It’s a Saturday morning, and everything is peacefully quite at McKinnon Memorial Cemetery. I sit down next to my dad’s grave and run my hands over the inscription.
James Bradford:
Devoted Father and Beloved Friend.
Dylan seems convinced that I’ll be acquitted for the assault charge, but I’m not so sure. I haven’t always had the best luck in life, and nothing surprises me anymore. I woke up this morning wanting to come and visit with my dad, just in case I end up in the slammer for a while.
“Hey Dad, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks since I was last here,” I tell him.
I look around, still always afraid that someone will overhear me and think I’m a nut job for talking to my dead father, but I’m relieved to see that we’re alone. It’s too early for any funerals and there are no other gravesite visitors.
“I guess my case is going all right, but Harlow thinks Mom should be supporting me more, while Ramsey’s still of the opinion that we need to help Mom because she’s really gone off the deep end lately.”
I pause and take a breath, not even having to ask Dad his opinion on the matter, because even if he were here to share it with me, I’d already know what it was. My old man was loving to a fault. At one point I kind of lost respect for him because of it but with time I’ve been able to see that mercy and justice were things that he strongly believed in.
My mind flashes back to when I was a teenager, and we’d all just found out that Mom had left Dad for some no-good vagrant.
“Boys,” Dad had said, after sitting us down on the couch.
Ramsey and I were almost bigger than he was— Ramsey probably was probably already taller than he was— but he still called us “boys.”
“I know you’ve been wondering where your mom has been. And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t think she’ll be coming back any time soon.”
“How can you just put up with this?” Harlow had accused Dad, as he threw a sofa pillow across the room in frustration. He was still practically just a kid and didn’t know any better. “We know she’s gone. She’s been gone. She’s not coming back. So why are you holding onto all her stuff like this is some sort of free storage unit instead of our house that she left?”
“Harlow,” Ramsey had said— always protective of Dad, of any of us— “Calm down.”
“Kids at school are talking,” Ramsey had shot back, with a pout.
“Shut your mouth.” Ramsey didn’t want to further hurt Dad by piling more dirty, ugly truths on top of the truth that Dad was just starting to face, even though it had been plain as day to the rest of us for some time.
Dad had been a prominent political figure and we’d enjoyed a rather privileged, middle class upbringing up until that point. But now kids at school were saying our mom was a slut and an alcoholic, and our dad was a “cuckold.” I’d had to look that one up.
At the time, I was convinced that life would get better. Mom would realize her mistake and come home, and Dad was obviously willing to welcome her home with open arms. We would be a family again and everything would be okay.
“You haven’t had an easy life, Kidd-o,” I can almost hear my dad say now.
It sure didn’t pan out like I’d wanted it to. Mom did occasionally come home but it was only to crash with us when she was completely broke, and to get more money from Dad before she moved on to the next guy. Dad had to support us and Mom and her habits— which had progressed from alcohol to drugs, and from seedier and seedier men. We were still always the talk of the town and he didn’t run for re-election because he had slipped into a pretty deep depression and suffered from anxiety and panic attacks.
From that time on, the Bradford Brothers were on the outs. We were bad news. No good. Our family’s reputation was toast and our parents were the laughing stocks of the town. It was our mom’s fault, but for a long time I harbored resentment towards my dad— and I know that at least Harlow did too.
“I miss you, Dad,” I tell him now. “I wish you were here to help me through this.”
Dad passed away unexpectedly a year later, when Ramsey was a senior in high school and I was a junior. Harlow was just a freshman. The autopsy revealed rampant coronary hypertension that had gone unchecked, leading to heart failure.
Mom came back into our lives then, begrudgingly. She was worried that the state would take Harlow if she left Ramsey and me to take care of him.
Ramsey went off to the military and I was left to deal with our crazy mother for Harlow and me both. Sometimes I think Ramsey goes easier on my mom than Harlow and I do because he wasn’t around to see how awful things got.
Harlow was understandably mad at my mom but she would punish him any time he brought up what she had done to us. And she would punish me for even mentioning Dad or how much I missed him.
I stayed home for a year after graduation to help take care of Harlow— because Mom was more absent than she was present, and when she was present, she seemed bent on making our lives miserable— but Harlow was kind of off the rails himself at that point. He was getting into trouble at school and didn’t want to be around anyone but his bad influence friends. I had gone down that path for a while but Ramsey had showed me through example that a better future existed for me.
So I joined the same Special Ops force that Ramsey was in— Pararescue— and we were both surprised when Harlow got his act more or less together and joined us a couple years later. Everyone in our unit referred to each other as “brothers” at times but it was nice to be together as actual brothers. Even— no, especially, I suppose— later when everything bad happened.
I try to shake my head free of bad memories and concentrate on the good ones I have of my dad, before everything went to shit. The way he made us pancakes with peanut butter for breakfast. The way he would sing as he drove us to school. The way that he and my mom used to be in love. I don’t know what happened, but the love was there once, and I had been able to see it plain as day.
“I think I met someone, but it’s a complicated situation…” I start to tell my dad.
No, I tell myself. I’m not going there.
I had promised myself that I would never be like my dad. I wouldn’t get my heart and life literally ruined by a woman. Sex was one thing, but love was another. I had decided a long time ago that I would have plenty of the former, but none of the latter. I wouldn’t take a chance that my life would turn out like my dad’s.
“Well Dad, I have to get going, but I just wanted to drop by and say hello. And that I love you.”
“Take care, Son.” I can almost hear my dad’s voice say the phrase he would always say in parting.
I leave the cemetery feeling slightly better but wondering if things will ever feel normal again.