SINS OF THE FATHER

Todd manipulated the fidget spinner in his hand. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. His sister, Sally, had reminded him about the funeral and his need to be there. So, Dad really was dead. Those words should have been like a heavy weight being lifted off his shoulders. But that wasn't what he felt at all. If anything, he felt like someone just dropped an even more horrendous weight on his shoulders.

He didn't want to go to the funeral, but he realized the aftermath of not showing up at his own father's funeral would only cause unneeded complications that he wouldn't have the energy to deal with. So, like it or not, the proverbial die had been cast. He would endure it, if only to keep up enough appearances to avoid the pouncing and probing critiques of family and friends.

He dug deep into his wardrobe and pulled out a black suit. Sweet, he thought, it still fits! He scrounged around for a tie. A wicked smirk flashed on his face. Hello, old friend! He grabbed a black tie with bright-yellow smiley faces going up and down. Totally inappropriate, he pondered, but totally worth it!

"Why not?" he murmured aloud. His murmur transformed into a proud declaration. "Let's give them a funeral nobody will ever forget!"

He raised a shot glass filled with tequila, as if he was toasting someone.

"Here's to you, Dad, you inglorious bastard!" He downed the alcoholic elixir like a flower desperate for rain. Then walked out the door.

***

Inside a 2015 purple Toyota Camry, Todd blasted his auditory nerves without remorse to Batlord's "Just Because I Wish That You Were Dead (Doesn't Mean I Don't Love You)." He merged onto the off-ramp, his foot heavy on the accelerator. His Camry careened around the corner and came screeching into the Road to Zion Baptist Church. He hurriedly parked his car, tires putting zero effort into refraining from squealing. He hopped out of his car and slammed the door shut.

"Todd!" a horrified Sally yelled across the parking lot. "This is a funeral at a church. Show some respect."

"I'm sorry, sis, I didn't realize someone worthy of respect was being buried today," he scoffed.

"Tell me, you haven't been drin--" She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw what kind of tie he had chosen to wear. "You're not serious? You can't wear that kind of tie to Dad's funeral."

"Why?" he whispered into her ear and then stepped back. "I don't remember a dress code being part of the invite."

"Todd, it's plain common sense," she fumed, her face becoming flustered.

"Too bad. So sad. Didn't bring another tie--and I wouldn't wear a different even if someone gave me one." He grinned, convinced he stood victorious in his toe to toe with his younger sister.

"Fine, she said through gritted teeth," she motioned him to follow. "Come on, just don't make a scene--well, a bigger scene, anyways."

"Oooh, and here we go into the belly of the beast," he said in a mocking, spooky-like voice.

"Please, if not for Dad, please, will you do it for my sake? Don't make this harder than it needs to be," she pleaded.

"Well, I sure as hell ain't doing nothing for Dad," he balked.

"Then for me?" she pressed again.

"No promises, sis," he said with a wink.

He followed his sister into the church. The architecture was modern, one of those houses of worship that tried a little too hard to be seeker-friendly, no doubt. Todd always hated those types of churches. The way he saw it, they were too busy trying to be hip and relevant and, in reality, they were neither. So be it. In a way, it seemed apropos. After all, Todd's father, in reality, had not been much of a father or husband--and even that was a gross understatement. He continually practiced the AA's (anger and alcoholism) without ever attending a single AA meeting. Mom and Todd always appeared to be the ones that would get the brunt of his out-of-control rage.

What a joke this is, Todd thought, as he shook his head. All these people here to pay their respects and celebrate the life of a drunk rageaholic!

As they entered the auditorium, Sally cast a disapproving glance at her brother.

"Todd, it's bad enough you insist on wearing that stupid tie. But for the love, at least take off the sunglasses," she chided.

"No," he said flatly.

She started to open her mouth--

Todd raised up a hand level to her lips. "Nope. The Ray-Bans stay on. Non-negotiable," he snapped. "Besides, they help put the fun in funeral," He said in a softened tone, before he flashed a wide grin at his sister.

"Whatever!" she said in an emphatic whisper, capitulating to her brother's annoying and insensitive eccentrics.

The two made their way to the aisle reserved for immediate family to the deceased. They sat on polar opposites of the pew. Todd couldn't wait to get this whole sad charade over with--but not before he gave the performance of a lifetime.

"Let's give them something to talk about," he muttered, the noise of his words barely audible.

The pastor stepped up to the pulpit and motioned with his hands for silence. On the screen someone had taken the time to create and display a PowerPoint reminding the "mourners" in attendance to silence their cellphones. The Walter and Tramaine Hawkins song "Goin Up Yonder" came through the auditorium's sound system.

Todd rolled his eyes behind his Ray-Bans at the very thought of his dad going to heaven. Oh, that's rich, he thought, who's in charge of checking in up there? Charles Manson?

The song ended, and the pastor began his homily of hypocrisy, taking great pains to talk about how much the recently departed had contributed to the church building fund and how faithfully he gave to the church almost like he was racking up frequent flyer miles.

"Friends, Reginald T. Chopin was a beacon in this dark world. He gave gladly out of the abundance of his heart. The cushioned pews you're resting your laurels on right now are the result of the kind and sacrificial donations of men and women of God, like Reginald," the pastor droned on.

How convenient, Todd scoffed inwardly. All you have to do is pay off God and the Big Man Upstairs will give you a free pass.

The pastor finished and signaled with his hand for Sally to come up and deliver her eulogy. After Sally, a few others were called up to offer their glowing memories of Reginald. Todd chaffed at the steps they took to ignore his dad's abhorrent behavior and act like he was this noble father and husband and an all-around honorable man--with just a few minor flaws that were no big deal at all.

The pastor got ready to close the memorial service out with a benediction, but Todd saw his window of opportunity and went for it.

"Now, hold up everyone!" he shouted as he run up to the pulpit. "Pastor Franklin, you can have a seat. I want to pay my respects to dear old Dad."

The pastor gave an apprehensive look, but believed things could get even more out of hand if he tried to stop Todd's brash intrusion. He stepped down and found a seat in the front pew. Good God, he thought, I sure hope none of this gets leaked to the media. He gazed up at Todd and prayed for a quick end to his antics. He sat stone-faced, now an unwilling spectator in whatever spectacle Todd would unleash upon the assembled audience.

"My dad, Reginald to many of you," Todd said, mimicking Pastor Franklin a little, "was many things." He waited just for a moment, then boomed, "But a saint sure as hell wasn't one of them!"

The crowd stared on in horror, unsure of what would happen next. This is a funeral. What is he doing?

"Abusive. Alcoholic. Out of control, rageaholic. Now those are the wondrous virtues my dad showed to both me and my mom on autorepeat for the better part of a decade and then some."

He stopped to check the pulse of the crowd. Yep, still wide awake.

"Say, did my sister ever tell anyone here about the time my dad crashed his 1989 Chevrolet into my bedroom? No? Well, hell, that was quite a feat. He was driving drunk like he so often did and crashed into my bedroom, somehow managing to miss both me and my bed. Dad got out of his car and pulled out a pistol and pointed it at me, imparting beautiful words of wisdom. He said, 'You're worthless! Boy, I aim to kill you!'"

Many in the audience had dropped their jaws in horror at the scandalous story of a man they once held a deep admiration for.

"Now don't worry, he didn't kill me." He laughed for a minute or two. "If he had, I wouldn't be standing up here talking to the lot of you!" He brushed his hair with his hand and continued. "He didn't even get a shot out. My grandmother wrestled him to the floor in like two minutes flat. Good thing, too, or I might not be standing here."

He scanned the faces of the crowd, taking in their horrified and astonished faces, and smirked. Good, he thought, they're looking mighty uncomfortable.

"Okay, Todd, you've had your fun," Sally hollered from her pew. "Now come down from there!"

"No," he projected firmly. "I don't think I will." He gazed up at the ceiling, "You see, Dad." His words came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, wait. You almost got me there." He wagged his index finger and looked down. "That's more like it. See, Dad, I've ruined all your sweet cotton-candy eulogies! The truth is out now, and everyone can see the drunk and raging elephant in the room!"

He glanced at the crowd and winked, and suddenly swung around and pointed at his dad's casket.

"Reginald T. Chopin lived like a dog and died like a dog! Undertaker, take away the body!"

***

One Year Later...

I'd been out of town for a business conference for work. Holed up in my suite at the Hilton. I thought about how I embarrassed my entire family at my dad's funeral last year. In retrospect, I could have handled things better. Sally hasn't spoken to me since the funeral. In fact, I think the whole family has pretty much disowned me since Dad's memorial service. I suppose someday soon I should do my part in mending some of those breaches I helped create.

A ton of things had been weighing on my mind these past few days at the conference, and all the more so in my hotel suite. No matter what excuses I might find to ease my conscience, what I did at that funeral was inexcusable. But one can never turn back the hands of time and change what's been done. So, like always, I would learn to deal.

The thing is, in three weeks I'm supposed to be married. That thought freaks me out. It freaks me out a lot! I don't want to turn into my dad. I don't ever want to lay a hand on Aileen, like dad did to mom. And if I ever have children, I sure as hell don't want to mistreat them the way my dad mistreated and abused me.

I think back to that time he crashed the car into my bedroom. When he pointed a gun at me and threatened to kill me. What hurt the most wasn't his threatening to kill me with a gun. What hurt me the most was when told me I was worthless! Often, I would catch myself believing those two stupid words: you're worthless!

Wait, what?

I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or seeing some sort of vision. My dad was there. Not as a man. But as a boy. Probably not much older than ten years old. And there was his dad--my grandfather. He staggered in, clearly drunk. He turned towards my dad and beat him over and over and over again. Oh, that look in my dad's eyes--it wasn't unlike the terrified look that I had seen of myself from the corner of my eye from a mirror as the abuse flooded my body and mind from my dad's relentless attacks--nowhere to run. No escape. I just had to take it--and keep whispering useless prayers for it to stop.

I never cried when I learned my dad died, not once. But in this moment, tears flowed down my face. For the first time that I could recall, I felt a mixture of love and sorrow for my dad. Could it be that my dad was repeating the cycle of abuse that he learned from his dad? It didn't excuse what he had done to me and my mom--or anyone else. But for the first time, I understood it was never something that my mom or I did. And It didn't mean that I was worthless at all.

I wept and wept. God, what a mess I was! A grown man sobbing like a little boy who had lost something very precious and dear to him. But, oh, how I needed this. It was as if an immense weight had fallen off of me. The future that waited for me, no longer was something to be apprehensive or fearful of. I could break the cycle of abuse. I could be what my father never could be. Not because I'm better than him, but because I have learned from his mistakes.

I needed to do something right away. Something that I had put off far too long.

I picked up the hotel room phone receiver and dialed. It rang four times.

"Hullo?"

"Hi Sally," I wept into the receiver.

"Todd? What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

"No, Sally," I said, starting to gain more control over my voice. "I owe you and everyone a deep apology. I'm so sorry for what I did at dad's funeral. I had no right--"

"Todd," she interrupted. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn't have insisted you come. I knew the pain he caused you, but wanted to keep up appearances."

"I'd like to see you when I get back in town," I offered.

"Absolutely," she replied.

We talked, laughed, and cried for hours. I felt the bond between us growing stronger by the minute. Somehow, some real good came out of my embarrassing stand-up-funeral stunt. When at last I hung up, I felt pressed to take care of one last thing.

"Dad, I don't know if you can hear me. But I want to let you know...I forgive you. I forgive you for all of it."

I released every last bit of bitterness I harbored towards my father. I felt such a peace and freedom come over me. I could now pick up the broken pieces of my life and become the person who I needed to be. No longer chained to the shame and pain of a past that no person should ever have to live.

I dropped myself on my bed, grabbed my smartphone and texted Aileen.

We're going to need a bigger reception hall.