Chapter 1, Part 2

The Only 2 Memories I Have Of My Dad

"I was a misfit, a heathen, small child big demons/
I was bad without a ration of a reason/
So it made no sense to try/
But in my defense, I was only 5/"

It was a cold dark night…I’m just kidding. But seriously, at 5 – and for some weird reason I am tearing up even typing this – I have one of my favorite memories I have ever had as a human in my entire lifetime.

That memory is playing Super Mario Brothers 1 on Regular Nintendo with my dad in his bedroom. I was probably 3 or 4, Sunlight to our backs, me standing up because I never sat down and was too full of energy. Me getting to Level 2 (which was the underground level) and hearing that creepy music kick in.

I jump once with my Mario character, and then the memory replays itself over and over. It doesn’t go any further. Either I really sucked at Mario Brothers and couldn’t get past that level, or my memory just stops it.

It’s literally the ONLY GOOD memory I have of my father. And it sucks because I only remember that he was there. I can’t picture him, I just know he was sitting on the bed behind me with the 2nd player controller. I don’t remember anything but his presence. His presence being the feeling of an aura shining on me greater than anyone’s I have ever met in my life has.

Who knows, maybe that is the normal feeling a son has around his father. What a great feeling to have.

I only remember what my Dad looks like because of the few pictures I have seen…. The same pictures I include for all of you to see inside of this story. I have no solidified memories of his face…of his height…just of him in a wheelchair… his arms pushing it around my aunt’s 1 bedroom 500 square foot apartment when we lived in Ft. Campbell.

I have so few memories of my father that when I graduated high school, the present from my mom was a blown-up picture of my dad’s driver’s license picture.

I have so few memories of my father that when I graduated high school, the present from my mom was a blown-up picture of my dad’s driver's license picture.

Aside from the wheel chair memory of my father, I maybe have one of two others that I can even remember, but they aren’t good memories. I think that’s why something as small as just playing video games is so meaningful to me. I can’t even picture my father standing up…damn…I just realized that.

My dad was dying from a brain tumor. They caught it too late and there was no way to help him. The brain tumor eventually made him deaf and condemned him to a wheelchair. I had to learn basic sign language to speak to him because he couldn’t talk properly from the brain tumor. That’s what the below tattoo on my arm represents.

Clouds and brain tattoo

In the clouds above my dad’s grave in my tattoo, there are 3 different cloud shapes that resemble his life that I knew.

The top right one is a handicap sign which you can see if you turn your head left.

The bottom left one is a brain, you can see it’s split in half. It represents the brain tumors he had.

The top left one is supposed to be a hand to resemble sign language I had to learn to talk to him.

Up Next: Part 3, Let The Crazy Stories Begin

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