My Life Story – Chapter 1 – Part 2

Part 2

“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, Sun light to our backs, me standing up because I never sat down and was too full of energy. Me getting to the 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 it self over and over. It doesn’t go any further. Either I really sucked at Mario Brothers and couldn’t get passed 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 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 wheel chair… his arms pushing it around my Aunt’s 1 bedroom 500 Square Foot apartment when we lived in Ft. Campbell.


I have so little memories of my father that when I graduated High School the present from my mom was a blown up picture of my Dad’s drivers 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 wheel chair. 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 1

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


Part 3

Chapter 1 – Part 3 – Let The Crazy Stories Begin


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