Poppy is dying

The man I haven’t seen in five years. I always felt a little dissapointed in my dad when the topic of his family came up. There was a whole family of blood related people living two hours away that I had never met. I’ve asked to go see Poppy countless times over the last five years, but it seemed that Dad had resigned himself to waiting Poppy out until his death to bother to search.

So last week, April Fool’s day, 4am, we get a message from our cousin. Poppy is dying. We go to see him. He is near tears when he recalls that five years ago, Dad’s last words were “see you in two weeks.” I get mad. I’m not the only one. Mad at my dad for being a coward. A compassionless jerk.

Mad for five days, until today we went to visit again. My uncle Tom showed up. Dad and Tom recall their past. Tom married my dad’s sister, and after a lifetime of knowing her, he can easily recall what she remembers about her childhood. Most of it involves my dad being repeatedly abused by Poppy. His whole childhood because he was the oldest. And of mistreating his wife and his other children. Stories that show me why my dad acts the way he does sometimes. Why he tries so hard to be a certain way. Because he is just trying hard to not be someone. He is just afraid that he might accidentally treat us like Poppy treated him.

I’m not mad anymore. At least, I’m not mad at Dad. I guess that means I’m not mad at all. I can’t be too mad at Poppy. I don’t know him well enough to be shocked by such stories. All I have is a new understanding and humility from judging my dad so harshly before. I have to say that I can’t feel too much sadness to see him go, though. He is a man I hardly know, and I trust God, who holds him in His hands.

The rally is coming.