|
It wasn’t planned, but I just spent the afternoon with two of my cousins. They’re brothers. We hadn’t spent real time together in several years. Maybe a decade.
They drove in separately for a construction gig. One brother is the consummate professional. Organized and responsible.
The other isn't. His craftsmanship is exquisite, but he’s seen the inside of a prison cell more than once. We get along like peaches and cream. Not sure what that says about me, but we’ll go with it.
Their dad died this year. Dementia. I knew him to be a good man, but it was messy at the end. The mom had bruises. The rest of the family didn’t know.
Fuck alzheimers.
We shared a bottle. A couple actually. Bourbon and scotch. Didn’t finish either of them. Just a few pours to talk about the whisk(e)y, our Tribe, and to reforge old bonds.
At one point I felt an urge to apologize for not calling when their dad died. It swelled up in the middle of a story, but I chose not to step on the moment. It was about the last time they spoke with their father.
“Get up old man, I need you out there. There’s work to be done. More than we can handle. Got your knives loaded in the truck. Let’s go!”
Their dad smiled from his bed.
He knew it was time.
They all knew.
Life is messy. This year is especially messy. But most people, when you talk to them... I mean, REALLY talk to them - are just doing the best they can with what they have.
That's more than good enough for me.
~ Magnificent Bastard
|
