Riding Without Training Wheels

There’s a quote by Michel de Montaigne, “A man is not hurt so much by what happens, as by his own opinion of what happens.” My uncle would tell me this all the time and I always held it in high regard because of him, though it’s a quote from my grandpa that echoes in me. “It’s not the sound of the bat that gets you; it’s the ball that you can’t stop that’ll hurt you.”

As long as I could remember, on a clear blue sky day I would stop and lie down to look up at the beauty of God’s creation. I would lie on the grass, porch, or where ever and just look up at the sky in all its blue beauty of atmosphere and imagine hearing her voice. I never remember my mother’s voice; she died when I was still a baby, but in my mind I visualized her voice sounding almost like mine…just softer and soothing. Most of this was probably based on hearing my friend’s moms when they talked or the T.V. show ones.  Anyway it went it would be just me and her there looking up, laughing, talking, wishing it could be realer than what it was, now I lay here and I all I can think about is that she could actually be here. All it took was a few words to turn a voice in my head into a real person again, but the way that this came by though, that wasn’t the way it was suppose to go. Like the old saying goes, what is in the dark always comes out into the light. All it took was a letter to open up the light and shine in on a big dark secret.

If you ask anyone they’ll tell you my Uncle is a man of few words, but a great man, whose reputation speaks loudly with many. My Uncle is the only parent I have ever known. He took me in as a baby after the accident and raised me up as his own. It wasn’t an easy road, but we were able to make it through all the rough patches and I considered him my other father. I guess that’s why it hurt so badly. When someone you hold so close and trust turns out to be a lie, well your footing goes quick and before you know it, you’re down on the floor.

All it took was one letter to change our whole world. A letter in a white envelope, laying on the night stand, the front of it covered up with the back exposed from not being sealed up yet. Normally I wouldn’t mess with any of Unc’s things, but something was nagging me in my head that I should look into it. Before I had time to comprehend it all, my hand was already heading for the envelope and had taken out the letter. My eyes locked into the letter as my brain absorbed all the info from the letter. By the time I got done reading, I was completely numb with shock. I couldn’t believe what was in this letter, that all my life I was lied to by the one person I wouldn’t have ever suspected to lie to me. My mother didn’t die in a car accident, no she was alive. Unc had been sending letters like this to her for years, all the while I was longing to hear her voice, when all this time I could have been got to know her.

Holding the white envelope in my shaking hands, unable to fully process what I had just discovered. My mind was racing with a bombard of questions that it overtook my whole system. I felt as if I had just went numb and the range of emotions just kept on rolling in and repeating themselves; ranging from anger, sadness, hurt, shock, and so on. They just keep attacking me in no particular order. As the train of emotions, continue to travel at a high speed in my mind, the sound of footsteps brought me back in. The sound continued until they stopped at the door, revealing the source of it all. There stood my so called parent in his Chuck Taylors, with boot cut blue jeans, and a t-shirt. We locked eyes with each other, not saying a word, but still saying more than enough. That was one of the things that was unique about our relationship. While a lot of people had to talk to each other to communicate, Unc and I could say all in our looks. I remember we would have these long drives and have full on conversations without saying a word. Our facial expressions and our eyes could tell all we wanted to say to each other. Now that’s not saying we didn’t talk to each other verbally, because we did that as well. One of those talks was to not go into his room without permission and never get into what was his. Yet, here I was in his room without permission and holding his envelope, which I had just read. Normally I would be petrified, even at the age I am now, though that was one of the emotions that didn’t flow in my emotional traffic.

“What’s this?” I ask him point blank as I hold up the evidence.

“What have I told you about my room?” He sternly retorts back at me.

This is a typical parent response to when a rule is broken. I figured that he broke one first, so mine evens it out. So at that moment I decided to double down.

“What did you say about telling the truth?” I fire back at him, still standing at my post with my weapon in hand…the letter of truth.

He continues to look at me and I at him, once again, our nonverbal skills at full force, saying that the elephant has been acknowledged.

Is that letter yours?

Another parent saying for give me my item. I pause for a moment and then hand it over to him. He now holds the envelope in one hand while steadily tapping it on his right palm. I know he’s processing it all before he speaks. That’s one of the things he taught me…one of the many.

Unc would always say, “A man who thinks before he speaks, never has to clean up a mess.”

Right now at that moment, I didn’t care much for following that protocol. I asked point blank, “Is she alive? My mother, is she?”

As he stood there, I didn’t see a parent or a father figure, instead I saw a man who was weighed down. Someone who finally had to enter the road he was trying so hard to avoid, yet knew it would be inevitable.

“Listen kid, it’s a lot more than that.”

As long as I have known him, he has always called me kid, like some old timer. Even now I’m still kid to him.

“It’s pretty simple, is she alive or dead?” I ask him again.

He pauses as I know he doesn’t want to answer me.

“Alive.” He finally tells me.

Why, why did you hide that from me?

I watched as his board shoulders slowly fell low. Even though my adult reasoning wanted to understand, my anger didn’t want no such thing.

Your mother, my sister, was…is a good person. She always had a lot of problems, issues some would call it. She was a pistol. You could never predict what she would do form one day to the next at times. Hell she was dangerous and that’s coming from me, a man who was always dangerous. Your dad though he had some kind of real magic, because he was the only one that was able to get her to turn the switch off for a long time. She loved him more than she loved her own life and he was the same about her. I got to see her happy and it was great. There was always a part of me that knew the clouds would come back sooner or later.

Unc continues to hit the envelope on his hand as if it’s his conduit to the past.

When she got pregnant with you right after they were married, she was so excited to have the family she always wanted. The one she and I never got to have.

He looks at the envelope and back at me. I can see the pain the memories bring to him and the joy of better times.

They were amazing parents to you, your dad was a natural, you and your mom constantly bumped heads. She loved you so much. You brought her great joy.

He stops there and I can tell he doesn’t want to go down this road, but I am determined we will.

Listen kid, I’m sorry for not telling you this.

“Stop calling me kid, alright! I’m not a child anymore and I want the truth.” I tell him as my anger continues to be feed.

Some things you have to get older to understand. Why people do things they do. There are no training wheels in life son. You just have to try to ride and know to be ready to crash a few times before you get it right.

It’s another one of my uncles many sayings he would always tell me. This one in particular was a motto we held by. Life doesn’t come with training wheels. You just jump on and know you’ll fall one day. The question is will you get back up and ask for help. Or will you just lay down there and never try to get back on. I feel that’s what might have happened to my mother, but none of that matter. The only thing that matter was the answers I wanted.

“The woman I knew and the one you meet briefly, she did die. That part of her went with you father.” Unc told me as he stopped with the envelope.

I stood there and just soaked it all in. All my life I wanted to hear stories about her and he wouldn’t tell me any. I always wonder why he wouldn’t; now I begin to see where he was coming from.

Your mom had this internal switch and she could turn it on/off at anytime, but when he died her switch stayed on and she wouldn’t turn it off. One day I went over to see you two and she was sitting in the living room, watching tv, laughing, and singing. I didn’t hear you anywhere in the house and every time I asked her where you were, she would just continue on doing what she was doing. I searched all in the house and you weren’t there. Finally and pressured he until she told me where she had left you.

Unc looked down at the envelope and then back up to me. I knew what was coming and I knew he didn’t want to tell me. Another thing he taught me was about learning truths. Once you learned then, that was it; you could never go back to how you use to be. I knew that was about to happen to me again, but I was ready to greet it.

Unc continued on with the story, she told me you where in the car. So I ran out there and got you out. If I would’ve been a second later, you might not be here.

My knees almost buckle on me at the weight of all that I have gain knowledge of. Discovering my mom is still alive, that she didn’t want me anymore that she fell and couldn’t get back on the bike. How this man who just shook my whole world also was the one who saved it. I felt too much betrayal to look beyond how I felt. I just wanted to see her myself and to finally hear her voice.

I finally figure out the words I want to say to my Uncle, “Where is she at?”

He hands me back the envelope, which has the address.

Unc looks at me and I know what he is telling me, “It’s not her fault.”

I look at him with redness in my eyes from holding back my hurtful, angry, tearful eyes.

“No, it’s yours.” I tell him as I leave out.

I finally had my chance to meet her and I wasn’t going to waste it.

The crazy thing about wanting something is what happens when you get it. Sometimes it’s everything you ever wanted. Then sometimes it’s a disappointment, that the truth is that the person holding the truth was right, but sometimes you have to find out for yourself. I finally found her and got to hear her voice. It wasn’t the face I had imagined all those years and it wasn’t voice I thought I would hear. Instead I was met by a stranger not a mother, when I told her who I was, she just looked at me. Then she just kept repeating that I wasn’t supposed to be here, that he promised her. After that whatever hold she had in our moment left completely and she refused to come back. After I left I didn’t feel disappointed or sad, rather I felt relief from the anger I had and from all the wondering. I had answers and I got to see the truth. The angry I had for Unc was gone. I was still disappointed at him lying to me, but I understood more why he did. My mom wasn’t ok to take care of me, she was sick and without Unc she wouldn’t have gotten the help she needed. Without Unc I wouldn’t even be here. He rescued both of us from death, when others would’ve run; he stayed and held on to a burden in order to allow me to live a somewhat normal life. He made a promise to her to never let me know the truth about her, regardless if he felt different about it or not. He loved her enough that he agreed.

After my journey I came to Percy’s bar and there he was sitting at the bar, right where I knew he would be. I walked over and sat down beside him. We spoke with our eyes and he put his hand over mine and in that moment we moved on and forgave each other and ourselves.

Unc signal for Percy his best friend and owner of the bar, “Two malts please.”

We sat there and enjoyed our malts the same way we did when I was small, before I knew what I know now. We can never go back to then, but we’re ok with that. We fell off the bike and got back on again. Because life doesn’t give you any training wheels, so you just learn how to ride the best way you can. Just remember to be ready to fall at times.