Well I started out down a dirty road
Started out all alone
And the sun went down as I crossed the hill
And the town lit up, the world got still
My family took me to supper on Sunday night and we got into an interesting conversation…
Mom: Why don’t you grow your hair out? You look like a freak with no hair.
Boof: Well, I really don’t have any hair thanks to you and Dad.
Mom: pfff You didn’t get your baldness from my family, everyone in my family had hair. You gotta blame that on your Dad.
Dad: I didn’t really have any bald relatives either
(not exactly the topic I would like to be talking about on my birthday but whatever…)
Boof: So your grandpa had hair?
Dad: I never knew any of my Dad’s parents because they passed away well before I came about.
Boof: oh well why--oh, ah never mind.
Because there was probably no one living with any knowledge of the death of my great grandparents.
Ah, the topic that has been skirted around for years. The enigmatic subject that has lingered around for years. The biological grandfather.
Now when I was younger I was very gullible and my parents are not exactly the honest type, so I now take whatever stories they told me with a grain of salt. I can’t remember when I found out and how I came to terms with how I knew about the death of my dad’s dad (because grandpa, to me, has always been someone else, my dad’s step dad) but I assume that my cousin told me at a young age.
I only asked my dad about his dad once and it was eerily quiet because I was terrified of peeling any scabs that may come off. Apparently my dad’s dad died of a brain hemorrhage in the early 60’s when my dad was in high school and his sisters in elementary school. Obviously he cried for days.
So, to get this straight, a family of five-two young daughters, one high school aged son and the mother- all had to endure the death of the head of household right in the thickness of adolescence. The more I think of it the more it seems amazing.
Never has my dad visited a tombstone, outwardly reflected, or barely mentioned his dad. I don’t know if it’s painful (probably) or because it’s been over 40 years (could be) or anything. No one celebrates the man’s birthday and I haven’t ever heard any of my aunts say anything either. I have seen one picture of this man presenting my dad with an award while he was in cub scouts. The man looked just like my dad only with a full head of hair (grrrr). It was rather amazing.
It also explains why my dad was subtle hints of freaking out about his medical condition in his late forties. He doesn’t know how his grandparents passed but what he does know is that his father died in his late forties. Heredity possibly?
Actually I do remember asking my dad why he never visited his dad’s tombstone when he visit’s the relatives. His response,
“Well, I don’t have time.” if that isn’t a bunch of blatant BS I don’t know what is.
I do believe I’ll have to put on my Boof Brocovich cap on and figure this out a bit. Get some hard nosed evidence and get to the root of the issue…or maybe not.