It's Never Too Late

           It was the day of his estranged father’s funeral and Joseph felt uneasy being in his presence, even in death. His father’s casket sat at the front of the viewing room and a line-up of relatives and friends waited patiently for the opportunity to pay their respects. Joseph, on the other hand, hid in the shadows at the back of the room trying to avoid contact with anyone.

           Joseph watched his mother as she shook hands and kissed everyone as they approached the casket. She had tears in her eyes but a smile on her face. Joseph knew that she was happy that the man who was supposed to be his father was finally dead.

           Joseph’s dad left him and his mother when he was just three-years-old and the only contact that they had since then, were the gifts on his birthday (when he remembered), and the occasional call on the phone.

           Joseph felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was his Uncle Jack, his father’s younger brother. Joseph always liked Jack. He was the man that Joseph always wished was his real father.

           “Why aren’t you up there with your mother, Joe?” he asked.

           “I don’t feel like I belong here, Uncle Jack. You know how I feel about him. He was never a dad to me, and you know it.” Joseph replied.

           Jack slid his muscular arm around Joseph’s shoulder and said, “Let’s you and me go have a chat somewhere private, okay?”

           Joseph agreed and followed Jack into another section of the funeral home that wasn’t in use.

           “You and I need to have a serious talk, Joe. I know that you and my brother had your differences, and I know that he wasn’t the best dad you had ever seen, but there is part of his life that you may not be aware of. Let me tell you a story about a boy way back around forty years ago.

           When we were young, your dad had to take on a lot of extra responsibilities early in life. At the age of twelve, we had lost our dad, your grandfather to Cancer, and our mom was working extra jobs just to keep us fed and a roof over our heads. Jeff, being the oldest, had to take over all of the chores at home when mom wasn’t around. We lived in a rundown shack with two bedrooms and a common room where we spent most of our time. It was cold except for the heat coming from the woodstove.

           Jeff, your father, had to chop the wood, cook the meals and clean the house, all while trying to keep up on his school work. He raised me practically on his own for more than two years until I was old enough to help with some of the load.

           If it wasn’t for him, I might not be here today. But that is not where this story ends. It is where it all began. It was that work ethic that made him the man that he was destined to be.

           I don’t know how much your mother told you about him and why he left, but I think it is time you heard the truth.

           You see, your father was in the military, in a very discreet division who went behind enemy lines to extract prisoners of war or to eliminate possible threats to our Country’s well-being. His Black-Ops group required him to be on-call twenty-four hours a day, and he needed to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.

           Your mother and he fought quite a bit, before and after you were born because of his career. He would be gone for days, and sometimes weeks without her knowing where he was heading or when he would be returning if he returned at all.

           Your father saved the lives of hundreds of men captured behind enemy lines, not to mention the thousands of lives he saved by eliminating threats. Your mother finally had enough of the worrying and kicked him out when he returned from a mission.

           She forbade him from speaking with you for years except for Christmas and your birthday. She made it clear that she wanted you to know nothing about the military career that he chose either.

           So, don’t hold onto those negative feelings that you had been harboring all of your life. Instead, embrace the positive aspects of his life and be proud of the hero he once was. I hope you understand a bit better now.”

           Joseph thought for a moment and a tear began to slide silently down his cheek. The hatred for his father turned to remorse as he regretted all of the terrible things that he said or spoke about him. All of these years, he had been so wrong, so misinformed. Joseph knew that it was too late to turn back the hands of time and to make amends with his dad, but he felt that he owed it to him to turn over a new leaf.

           “Thank you so much, Uncle Jack. I had no idea. I thought he was just some deadbeat dad who left because he couldn’t handle parenthood. Now I wish that I had gotten to know him more.”

           “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you stop by my place next weekend. I have some old photo albums and movies that I can show you and maybe it will help you understand him even more. How does that sound, Joe?”

           “That sounds great, Uncle Jack. I will be there for sure.”

ONE WEEK LATER:

           The family had been gathered at the office of Jeff’s attorney for the reading of the will.

           The lawyer began speaking on behalf of Joseph’s deceased father…

           “I, Jefferson Mitchell Bosco, being of sound mind and body, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior Wills and codicils made by me.

           I appoint my attorney, Peter K. Linehan, as Personal Representative of my Last Will and Testament. In the event of death, resignation, removal, incapacity, refusal, or inability of Peter K. Linehan to serve as Personal Representative, then I appoint my brother, Jackson William Bosco, to serve as Successor Personal Representative.

           My estate will be divided up as follows:

           To my brother, Jack, I leave all of my music collection since you seemed to listen to them more than I ever did anyway. Also, I leave you the sum of $20, 000 to use as you see fit.

           To my former wife, and the only woman that I had ever loved, Patricia Elizabeth Bosco (nee, Hardy), I leave the sum of $100, 000. I realize that it hardly makes up for all of the years lost, but I want you to have something that will allow you the chance to go away on a nice vacation or pay off some debts with.

           Finally, to my son, Joseph Samuel Bosco, I leave the rest of my savings which will also include my home in Mount Pleasant and my 1965 Ford Mustang once you have reached the age of twenty-one and/or are capable of living independently.”

           After the Will reading, Joseph told his mother that he would be home later and that he and his Uncle Jack were going to spend the rest of the day together.

           Back at Jack’s house, Joseph was asked to take a seat on the couch in the living room while Jack gathered up the albums to look through.

           They spent the next three hours or more discussing all of the pictures that Joseph had never seen before. He saw his dad in a whole new light now and he was no longer referring to him as “the sperm donor”. The man in the picture was vibrant and full of life. He started living a life he never experienced vicariously through his Uncle Jack’s memories.

           Later that evening, after returning home, Joseph sat his mother down and told her all about what he and Uncle Jack had discussed. Joseph could see a mix of emotions building up in her eyes as he spoke. He then convinced her that it was time to get out of the apartment that they had been renting for years and move into the house that his father had left for him.

           Joseph insisted on keeping the furnishings and pictures that his father left behind. He wanted to be able to keep his father’s memories alive from now on.

           His mother sat silently at the table in their new home and Joseph approached her asking what was wrong.

           “I’m so sorry, Joey. I was such a rotten mother to you all these years, keeping you from getting to know your father. I should have let you see him more, but I was o afraid of you getting hurt if he never came back home from overseas.”

           “You have no reason to be sorry, Mom. You did an amazing job raising me all of this time on your own. Not many single mothers could have done what you did. I am very proud of you and I love you endlessly. I understand your reasoning for what happened, and I forgive you. However, from now on, I want to know the man you fell in love with. Is that a deal?”

           Tears began to fall on both of their faces as they embraced tightly. They spent the next day visiting the gravesite and continued the tradition every weekend since that day.

It’s never too late to start again. What we think we know about someone’s past may not be how it truly was. We need to find out the facts about someone before passing judgment. If everyone did this, there would be a lot fewer misunderstandings or arguments in the world and possibly, just possibly, it could be a better place to live.