Making New Memories

We had a big family. It was me, my two younger brothers, my older sisters, my momma, daddy, and my daddy's parents in one house. Momma was the youngest of four, but her parents passed away two years ago on the same day, two minutes apart. So I couldn't believe it when he told me.

"Paul, can you come here for a minute, son?"

I made my way down the hall. My daddy was sitting in his chair like normal, but his face was still as stone. T.V was off too.

"It's gone be a rough day for your momma."

My heart sped up. "Watcha' mean Daddy?"

"Your aunt Jenny just called and said that their Daddy's gone on."

Then the phone rang again. My daddy answered, and I could hear Aunt Jenny's voice coming through on the other end. She sounded funny. Well funnier than usual. I didn't make out much, but my daddy's eyes got wider the more he listened until she finally found the right three words.

Aunt Jenny sighed heavily. "Mommas gone too."

When my momma came through the door, there were no tears, just a shocked look on her face.

“They died two minutes apart, Tim.”

Then she hugged and made a promise to us both.

She kissed me on the forehead. “Paul, I’m gonna love you forever. My first boy.”

“And Tim, if you go, I’m comin’ right after ya’!”

Then she hollered laughing on her way up the stairs to see my brothers and sisters. That was the way my momma was, always seeing the sunshine in the dark and never dwelling on anything. She’s been that way since “before you were born,” she’d always say. When she said that to daddy and me, I don’t imagine she ever really thought losing one of us was a real possibility, and neither did I.

“Alright, everybody! We’re headed out!” Daddy yelled back into the house.

Momma always said me and daddy were the most alike. Mannerisms, the way we spoke, and our outlook on life in general. Neither of us was very analytical because we usually made decisions based on our gut. “That’s how I got your momma!” he’d always say. Momma would just smile and nod her head in agreement. We were both reactionary and quick to anger too. Always ready for a fight. My oldest sister brought some boy home that sassed momma, and I got to him quicker than my daddy. Never seen him again after that. We were a rough and tumble family, but the pair of us was the roughest. I looked up to my daddy. He was 6’4, about 250, with shoulders as broad as Texas. I’m 6’0 on my tallest day, about 210, and he reminded me constantly.

He’d tap me on the chest and say. “Still gotcha’ boy!”

I grew up wanting to be just like my daddy. Tomorrow was my 18th birthday, and he wanted to spend a day, just me and him.

“Well, where we finna go?”

“We gone take a ride, son. Some things that man’s gotta know that only another man can tell’em.”

“Like what?”

“Just get in the truck and ride. Lot’s to tell you. And this here’s important stuff!”

So, with no clue where we were going and no clue what I was gonna’ be learnin’ from him, we hop in that four-door pickup truck and roll down the driveway. But, before we hit the main road, my daddy reached over and grabbed me lovingly by the back of my neck.

“You know, son, I’m proud of the man you’re becomin’.”

“…Really?”

“Yep! Ain’t never get as far as you did, but you just taking it to another level, Paul.”

I smiled. “Couldn’t have done it without a daddy like you.”

“Yer damn right.” he declared, bursting into laughter.

Riding out with my daddy was always a good time. He took me to a bar when I was 16 and let me have a shot of bourbon. Burned my throat right up, though. He took me to a field about 10 miles from the house once and set up some shootin’ targets. It was the first time I’d ever held a rifle and the first time I fired a gun. I was nine years old. Sometimes we went to just do regular stuff, like picking up a few groceries or buying shoes.

One thing I always thought was unique about my daddy was his love for shoes. Jordan 1’s were his favorite. They had all these strange names and wonky colors, but I wasn’t into all that, no matter how much or how hard he tried to convince me. I was okay with a simple black steel-toed boot.

“Man, where’s your style?” he’d always say.

I would just smile and look off. That was my dad. A big burly, emotional, shoe-loving, gun-totin' SOB, and there wasn’t nothing you could do to change him. So when we left the house that day, I thought either we were going into town to pick up the new shoe drop, or maybe I was finally going to the strip club. I ended up being wrong on both accounts.

“So, where we going this time?” I asked.

He looked over and smirked. “Just ride with me, son. Nothin you need to worry ‘bout.”

“Alright.”

I eased the seat back till it was almost flat. Whenever I rode with anybody, I always did that for some reason. Nobody ever questioned it either. Most times, people gave me strange looks, but that was as far as that ever went. Whenever I rode with him and leaned my seat back, he turned on some music. My dad had an obsession with music of all kinds. If you saw his room, there ain’t a nook or cranny you couldn’t find a record.

Today’s featured artist: Prince.

Till this day, I never understood how this big southern boy, who would be considered a red neck by most, loved collectin’ sneakers and listenin to Prince. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t mind none of it, I just always wondered where he picked it up from.

“So your 18th birthday comin up. How you feeling?”

I took a moment to think about it because up till this moment, I ain’t never gave it no thought.

I sighed. “I’m feeling pretty regular. I don’t know how I’m posed to feel.”

That was God’s honest truth. This birthday was just another day to me. I didn’t have nothing planned, so again, I ain’t thought about it too much.

“That’s good, son. That means you got some humility in you. That’ll get you far in this life.”

I didn’t raise my seat back up, but I turned my head to get a good look at the old man as he kept talking, looking straight ahead. I never realized how thick and red his beard was until then. All I had was dust on my upper lip.

“There was a time,” he continued, “in my life where I didn’t think I’d see 18, you know?

When he said that, it was like a bell went off. Every word he said from then on struck my ears differently because he didn’t ever talk about growin’ up, or the time before he met momma, really. Sometimes when I was younger, I used to think he was born a grown person.

“Why you say that?” I asked.

“Son, your daddy wasn’t always the man I am today. You can thank your momma and the military for that.”

“You were in the military?! How come I don’t see none of your gear and all that hangin around the house?”

He sighed. “Dishonorable discharge.”

As he said that, we rode past a purple dented-up sign. It was in such bad shape I couldn’t make out the words. After passing it, that sign was just a memory.

“What does “Dishonorable discharge” mean?”

“When I was a teenager, I was a lost cause. Robbin houses, runinn from the police, fightin’ whoever.”

He took a deep breath.

“I grew up in an orphanage, so I was always angry. I took that anger and rebel attitude to the military, and they kicked me out for it.”

“Hmph. And what you mean orphanage?”

“Your Grandparents ain’t tied to you by blood.”

All that coming at a man at one time could be a lot for most men. At first, I was all shook up, then I felt calm. Here’s where my momma’s DNA kicked in.

“You know I never thought you and ‘Pa looked alike.”

‘Pa was 5’7, and bout 130 lbs. soaking wet. My grandma was littler than him, so that ain’t never added up to me. But, I guess in a way, I always knew.

“And I believe whatever you used to get up to ain’t what you get up to now.”

I laid back down on my seat and kept talkin.

“Plus, remember what you always told me?”

Daddy smiled. “The past loves setting roots in your memories, but the best way to move forward is to make better ones for the future.”

“Mhmm. And I think you do that every day.”

I couldn’t see it, but I knew he shed a tear as I drifted off to sleep. When I came to the sun had gone down and woke up yawnin.

“Almost there, son. Almost there.”

I was rubbing my eyes, and then I saw it. A Texas Longhorn, just out in the open on the side of the road.

“Did you see that?!”

He chuckled. “See what?”

“That big bull on the side of the road!”

“Oh, you mean Lucy?”

“Lucy?”

“Roun these parts we always said that was Lucifer in disguise, so we call him Lucy. Still don’t know if it’s real.” He said, laughing.

I laid back on my seat tryna process what I had seen. Then there was a lough screech, a bright light, and then nothing.

….

I woke up a week later in the hospital surrounded by my momma, brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Everybody except my daddy. I didn’t know how to feel about all that was happening. It ain’t feel real. My Aunt Jenny told me that some drunk truck driver hit us on the crossroad, and some of his load smashed through the truck window. Daddy died on impact, but it missed me because my seat was laid so far back. Took them an hour to get me outta the wreck.

My daddy was… Nah is my best friend. I could fall apart and give up on everything after he was gone, but I ain’t finna do that. He had a rough go at it growin up, but he turned into a great man. The best man I ever knew.

Momma was a mess at the viewin.

“I know I promised to go right after you, Tim. I swear I meant every word of it. But I can’t leave these kids and your parents.

She burst into tears and crumbled to the floor. My little brother Sam and I helped her up after a little while.

“Save me a seat, Timothy. Closest to the stage.”

She kissed us two on the forehead and wandered away, holding Sam’s hand. I looked at the open casket. He still had his thick red beard.

Tears flowed down my face. “I didn’t get a chance to show you how much you meant, or introduce you to my wife, or let you hold your grandkids, but everyone will know you through me, Daddy. You watch.”

Like he always said, “The past loves setting roots in your memories, but the best way to move forward is to make better ones for the future.” So Ima do that. I got a record of Prince’s best hits and wore Jordan 1’s at his funeral.

His Jordans.