Returning to Tate

Hey all here is the third installment of my story. Sorry it took so long. I hope that you like it. Once again all this is an original work by myself and may not be copied without my permission. No matter how anyone may sound like someone living or dead, they are completely fictitious and only live in the mind of the writer. Thanks for reading and hope to have the next one up before too long. John

Returning to Tate: Chapter 3 The Truth in Fault

The walk from the hospital was probably harder then the drive had been earlier in the morning. Once again I felt very alone and this time I did not even have a car to escape in. I think it hurt me more that my Mom had accused me of wanting to hurt my brother. It was a feeling that deep down I knew I should just ignore, but it was hard to do that. I think it was because even though we had not talked for four years and I did not feel like I was part of the family, there was still a part of me that did want to feel apart of that. That part still remembered a loving supportive mother.

I think to put things in perspective some

things need to be said about my mother. My mother was a very protective woman about her children when we were growing up. She saw them as perfect and deserving the best. She was not one of those mothers that let their kids get away with anything; no she stayed on top of us without really being smothering. When we left the house she had to know where we were and we had to be back at a reasonable hour, usually ten. After school, she was always at home waiting for us. Her first words were always how was our day and what homework did we have to do today. If we had trouble with something in school, she always tried to help us through the problem or got our father to do that. If either Patrick or I had chosen a favorite parent, it was her.

Now this is not to say she was perfect. No she was far from that. She was human like everyone else. When it came to my father she was very meek. What he said went in our house. If we screwed up in sports and father yelled at us, mother would push us to try harder. She would always remind us how hard our father worked to put food on the table and how good a man he was. Mom also worked to try to have the perfect family image. There was to be no talk of dysfunction in our family ever. If we did something wrong in public, Dad might yell at us, but Mom was far worse with the subtle comments of how ashamed she was of us. For the most part she was a decent mom to my brother and I.

When the incident happened four years ago and my family learned of me being gay, my mother did not say much. She pretty much let Dad do it all. She would avoid me and not even look at me. I knew that she cried a lot about it all. My Father would use that to hurt me when he was yelling at me. I heard her more then once tell my sister at the time that she was sure it was just a phase and that I was just doing it for attention. She could not image having a son that was less then perfect and ruining the family image, but even with all of that I believed that she was still my mother.

During the intervening four years, we never talked. While I focused all of my hatred and anger at Father, I had developed an image of my Mother as also being a victim. I knew that while I had upset her and turned her world upside down, that deep down she still loved me like before she found out. I could not image having an argument with my Mom like I had before this day. My mind always showed every argument to be with my father. Now though that image was shattered.

It was obvious too me that my mother blamed me for every hardship the family was in. It hurt. It hurt all the more because I felt maybe she was right. I had been a shitty son. Many times since realizing I was gay, I have asked why I had to be different. There was a part of me that just wanted to act like I wasn't. That too was a painful thought. It is ironic that by being raised by my parents I had always been told that I should be honest and never tell a lie and that same honesty was one of the things that kept me so damn conflicted.

On this walk I began to realize that all those feelings of pain had not been healed by going to Burke College the last two years. No those feelings had still been there just as strong. No I had just hidden them like putting a rug over a dirty floor. It did not fix the problem but instead put it off. That had been all I was doing. I had acted like my troubles and my life here at Tate had not existed. I never realized until now that irregardless of what I felt at Burke, I had not been whole and could not be whole. For once in my life I had to come to grips with everything and not run away.

I must have walked for a good thirty minutes because I realized I was walking by MacArthur Park. This was a large park that was toward the center of town by the river. On the north side of the park was the baseball diamonds that my brother and I used to play at. Growing up Mrs. Cross would bring us here every Sunday in the summer for a picnic and to play on the slides and swings. Once we learned to ride bikes we ended up here almost every day while we were in grad school. The whole kid world seemed to revolve around this park. By the looks of all the kids running around, that still had not changed.

I stopped in front of the lake in the park. I walked to the edge by a cloister of trees that Rick and I used to climb all the time. I sat down by one of the trees and looked at all the ducks that were swimming around the lake. As I took my position many of the ducks shift towards my spot in hopes that I might have bread for them. I used to love this part of the park. I loved it because it was always so peaceful here and this was a spot that I could always relax.

When I was little Mrs. Cross would always take us here to feed the ducks. My Father never would have done that. He called that a waste of good bread. I spent so much time at the baseball diamond that you would think that might have been the spot I loved, but no. That was the location my father spent many times yelling at Patrick and I. There were good times there like the time we won the league championship, but those times were not the memories that were the ones I thought about. No the thoughts I remember are the ones that haunt me. They were the memories of when we did not win or did not win well enough for my father sake. Here at the lake with the ducks though, my Father had never poisoned this sight. It was here that whenever I got down or depressed that I came. The other nice thing about this spot is that in those times you needed to hide away from the world, the trees and bushes could let you vanish. I felt like that today.

I am not sure how long I sat there in thought

when I heard a crack of branches of someone moving through the bushes behind me. I started to get up to move away when Patrick stepped through the bushes. "How did I know that I would find you here Bro?" Patrick plopped down beside me.

"I guess I needed some place to hide away today. To be honest I had sort of forgotten about this spot until I was walking by," I paused to stare at the ducks. "So how is Elaine? I am sure she has nothing good to say about me right now."

"Not really, but she has been a bitch for

awhile," Patrick put his arm on my shoulder. "Besides she knows better then to get in it with me about you. Mom and her are always walking on eggshells around me on that subject. I think they are afraid that I might take a queue from you and get the hell out. She spent the trip back to the house just saying how I should not worry about Dad and that God will pull him through. The only comment she said was that you had not right to worry me about it all and to focus on school. She started to tell me to stay away from you, but she caught herself. I think she saw I was getting red in the face. So once we got home, I stormed upstairs to my room and climbed out of the window."

"I am sorry that I got you into trouble and you have had to take shit because of me," I continued to stare out at the lake.

"Hey don't say that. I am glad you came back. To be honest I need you right now. Mom is a wreck and of course Elaine is in complete denial. I can't talk to anyone right now and I need too. Plus I really did need to see Dad. I don't care what Elaine says, I think you are right, he wouldn't want to be on those damn machines. I remember something in the news about the girl in Florida that was brain dead. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to watch someone go through that, but I guess here we are." I sighed. "Yeah, to be honest I am not surprised

at Elaine wanting that, but I figured that Mom wouldn't want it."

"Well you have to understand, while Elaine and Mom have always been close, when you left they became hyper close. She started coming over everyday. I thought for awhile she was even going to get Mom to join her church, but Mom never was that religious and of course Dad would never spend Sundays in a church. Mom doing something that Dad wouldn't do just would never happen. So of course when Dad had his stroke, Elaine was the first person that Mom called. All the big decisions were always made by Dad, so without him saying something, Mom has just let Elaine call the shots. Plus I don't think Mom could let go even if she wanted too." "No I don't think she could. She has devoted her

life to him. He was never wrong in her eyes. She never even said a word when he hit me. I remember grabbing my stuff and running out the door, she never said a word."

"Yeah that is for sure," Patrick paused. "When Dad hit me, she told me how it was my fault he had lost his temper. I had provoked him by defending you. I am sorry I never told you. I just didn't want you to worry." I looked to Patrick and could see him staring at

the ground. "Listen Pat, you have nothing to be sorry for. I always knew that was what happened and I am sorry that you got sucked into all my shit. You are a better brother then I."

Patrick looked up with some anger in his voice, "Don't give me that shit. Fuck how the hell did you think I grew up so well. It was not because of Dad, it was my big brother. When I had a crappy game and Dad yelled, what did you do when we got back but told me the good things I did and said you were proud of me. There is a reason that every time I did well in a game or something good happened that I ran to you first to tell you. You were the person I looked up too, and hell I still do."

I have to say that with the intensity he was telling me this and how embarrassing it sounded to me for him to tell me how much he looked up to me I couldn't do anything but break out with a stupid grin. "God I appreciate that, I really do. I have so missed you. God I wish I had been born straight so this shit would not have happened."

"Hey don't say that shit either," He elbowed me in the ribs. "I don't want to hear you feel regret about being gay. While it was weird initially off to think of you being gay, I wouldn't want you to be a different person. That is a part of you. How would you like me to start acting like I was gay.I could you know. I could pick up guys right and left." Patrick cracked a mischievous grin.

I laughed. "Nah I wouldn't want that if for

nothing else then to not have competition."

"Thank god, I am not sure I could get it up for

a guy.at least sober."

For the next few minutes we cracked jabs back and forth. It was like I had not been gone the last two years. I felt some remorse for missing the last two years of Patrick's life. What a fool I had been just on that account. As we joked I realized that Patrick did want to talk about something more serious. He had wanted to cheer me up. It did not take a detective to realize what the subject that he needed to talk about.

"So Pat," I shifted to a more sober tone. "What happened last night? Do you want to talk about it."

He paused for a moment and took his turn at looking at the lake. "Yeah I guess I do. It has been running through my head over and over. It is like when the news catches something horrible and they keep repeating it on television. I could not even sleep last night."

"What happened?"

Patrick took a deep breath and began to tell the story. "Dad had come home from work a little after five last night and we were all going out to celebrate. He and Mom were both excited about it." I noticed that he overlooked saying what the celebration was, but I let it slide. "Mom was real excited to go out, for the last couple of years we really had not been out much. I think Dad has had a tough time at work for awhile."

"Anyway we were all going out to the Steakhouse," That was Dads favorite restaurant and one of the fanciest in town. "We had not been there since, well since before you left the house. We all dressed up and Mom was really excited to wear her red dress again. She said that it had been far too long since she had brought it out. Mom and Dad were both in such a good mood. I cannot remember the last time they were joking back and forth to each other."

"Well we got the restaurant and everything was so good for once. Dad and Mom both seemed to just let go for the night. When the waiter came around Dad kept bragging about me and he even ordered a bottle of wine for Mom and him. You know he never was that loose with money, but last night there were no worries at the cost."

Patrick paused for a moment and then continued. "Then he got up and started to walk out. As he got up he started to stumble and grabbed his forehead. Mom tried to help him sit down, but he pushed her back and said he didn't need her help. Then he just collapsed on the floor and Mom started screaming. I could do nothing but just watch." Patrick started to cry.

I held him, but I knew that there was more that

he needed to tell. "Patrick it is ok, but what have you not told me. There is more isn't there. What were you celebrating?"

He cried for a little bit more. I have to admit I also was crying a little bit. He gave me the most hurt look that I never imaged Patrick could have. "I won.I got a scholarship to UCLA to play football."

"That is good news. Just because they were celebrating your hard work, it was not your fault. That did not cause Dads stroke."

"No, that is not, but what I said is the reason for it. I told him I was not going to go to UCLA and that I had already turned it down earlier in the day. I didn't have the balls to do it until dinner was almost over. I told him.I told him I wanted to go to Burke College." He started to cry again.

For a moment I didn't know what to say. All I could do was keep repeating to Patrick, "It is not your fault." That much I knew for sure. Mom was right, it was my fault. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Since last night Patrick had been blaming himself, but if it had not been for me running off to Burke College or being gay then Dad would not have had the stroke. At that thought I just broke down in tears.

"I don't know what to say except it is not your fault," I began to speak after a few minutes of mutual crying. "If it was anyone's then it is back to me. I was the cause of all his stress and even when I was not here I still was. I shouldn't have ran to Burke and hid from the world and more importantly to hide from you. So if you are going to blame someone, you have to blame me."

"No that is not true!" Patrick practically

yelled at me. "You did what you had to do. Dad didn't give you a choice. He drove you there. I could have gone to UCLA."

"Yeah but you probably would of if I had

been around. You would not have wanted to come to Burke

because of me." "I did choose Burke because

you were there," Patrick sighed and looked to the lake. "I declined UCLA not because of that, but because I don't want to play football. To be honest the last four years I have played the sports just for him, especially the last two years. When you were gone there was no one to be around that made it fun. I did well only because I didn't want to take shit for playing badly. You were the only reason it was fun. I would have quit if he would not have killed me for that. He couldn't stand a quitter." We looked at each other and both shared a moment

of clarity. "No he couldn't. Damn him for making us feel this guilt. Why could he just not love his kids for who they were and not what they should be."

"I don't know," Patrick whispered.

The both of us sat there quietly by the lake for a good hour in silence. I know we both felt like shit, but in a way we both felt at least a little better. Our mutually guilt seemed to make them both null and void. I guess it is like two negative. If anything it pissed me off more that Dad had made both of us feel this guilty.

The silence was broken by the growling of Patrick's stomach. We both laughed at that. "Ok, you are hungry and so am I. It must be after six. Let's go back to Ricks. Mrs. Cross wants to take me out for food, and I know she would take you out too."

Patrick gave me a bemused look. "Take us out or cook us food? She always was the best cook. I miss getting the free food when you lived there."

I laughed again. "Sorry to say we are going out, but I agree with you. At least I will be getting some of that food soon. I'll tell you about it."

"Like hell you will, I will be there for that

meal too!"

Patrick and I got up and started our walk back to Ricks. It was about a thirty minute walk from the park to there, but it did not feel like it was that long. I have to say that both of us felt better after talking. We had shared are grief and the weight of feeling responsible and everything did not seem as heavy anymore. It is not to say that either of us had gotten rid of it all, but at least we had shared it and had become stronger by doing so. We had always been a team growing up and once again we felt like a team. It was another thing I had missed being away.

When we got to Ricks we caught him walking out

to his car. Rick had gotten worried since it now was closing on seven and he was going to start the search. He started to question us about where we had been but I just told him that there were things that had to be worked out. It just had taken longer to do, but nothing to worry about. I could tell Rick wanted to know more, but he did not push it. I never really kept secrets from him, but sometimes I waited a bit to tell him everything. He hated that, but he knew that he would get it out of me eventually or at least I hoped he did. Rick still was acting a little aloft from me even though he put up the fa^Çade that everything was cool.

Mrs. Cross too was happy to see us come into the house. She had gotten worried. I should have called and let her know all was well. I had gotten so used to being at Burke that I did not think of anyone worrying about me being out. Everyone always wants to be independent and not worry about that, but you know the truth is I sort of missed that. I apologized to Mrs. Cross and also told her that there were things that I had to work out, but it was all good now. She did not push the issue. Mrs. Cross knew that if it was important I would tell her in time and she always let me have my privacy. She really was an awesome woman.

We went out to eat. It was the Olive Garden

tonight. Italian food was always my favorite and of course Mrs. Cross did not forget. Originally going out with the Cross's I was always hesitant to get anything that was too much, but I long since gave up that. Mrs. Cross had always instilled in me that they had too much money to worry about such notions and so I just always got what I liked now. My brother Patrick never had that notion and ate all he could. He always did have an appetite.

The meal was excellent and I got to get caught

up in all the comings and goings of the Cross family. It seems that Mr. Cross had finally become a partner at his firm. It meant that he was out of the house more, but Mrs. Cross did not mind. She knew that it had always been a goal of his and that it was important to him. There was a pretty good chance that one of his cases might even go to the United States Supreme Court and that was something no lawyer could pass up. Just listening to her talk about it, I could hear the pride and even a slight bit of envy. It was not that Mrs. Cross was not good enough to do the same, but to be honest her goals in law was more community oriented and people driven. It gave her the ability to have a career but still be home for her son.

When the dinner was over, we drove back to the Cross house. Patrick had to head back home. He figured that no one probably had noticed him gone yet. Usually they would leave him alone if he didn't answer the door, if they had even knocked on it. He was a little worried that when Mom got home that she might actually check on him. If anything he did want to try to talk to Mom and figure out what all was going on with Dad. I told him that I would be around through the weekend which just delighted Mrs. Cross.

After Patrick left I told Mrs. Cross and Rick that I had to go back to the hospital. Rick offered to go with me and Mrs. Cross offered to drive me, but I told them both this was something I had to do alone. They seemed to understand. I promised I would be back tonight and like I told Patrick that I would at least stay through the weekend.

It was just about twenty minutes after nine

that I arrived back at the hospital for yet a third time. The night was a clear one with a quarter moon up in the air and a sky full of stars. It always amazed me to just stare up at the sky and think about the vastness of it. It was something I had not done in awhile, at least not since I was a great deal younger. It was during those younger years that you think anything is possible and that there is magic in the world. Staring up in the sky as a kid you did not see stars and the moon, you saw dreams and fantasy. I missed those years. The drawback of growing up is that those dreams and fantasies disappear as you learn what everything really is. You also grow to let dreams be replaced with bitterness and regret.

I came to realize that even at Burke, a place

where I really thought I was happy, I was not. At Burke I was not happy, but instead numb. I spent my days there studying and working, but not living. I had friends there, but none that were really close. It just seemed that I kept everyone at arms length. I know it was a pseudo protection mechanism so that I would not be hurt again, but I also think it was more. When I left Tate, I left my life. I left everything that I knew and with that all my dreams. I ceased to live on my sixteenth birthday. As my world came collapsing down, I chose to go down with the ship. That was a mistake.

The world I knew growing up may have collapsed and sank, but there was more to life then what happened. While my world sank, I did not realize how many life preservers had been thrown to me in the form of Rick, Patrick, the Cross Family, my Grandmother, and even Mr. Culpepper. I just refused to grab one. I chose instead to bob in the waters of despair by myself and hope that I would just sink. That never happened. It was those life preservers that I did not reach for that still kept me afloat.

I began to walk up to the hospital. Tonight I realized I was going to have to face the iceberg that hit my life. We all have demons, most are just in are minds, but I had to face the one demon that had scared me and made me afraid to live life. He may not know that I am there, but that was not important. There were things I had to do, and it all started there, just as I knew that he was the start of the road that had lead me here.

My mind may have been made up on what I needed

to do, but I still wanted to build up more courage, besides being still earlier then ten there was a decent chance my Mother or sister might be there. If there were two things that might cause me to waver, it was those two and besides two arguments in one day was more then enough for me. I still felt I needed some strength and I knew one person that seemed to be able to give me some.

"Hey how goes it?" I smiled at Eric at the door of his room. He had been laying down watching one of the like twenty CSI series that seemed to be on now. It must have been an exciting episode because he looked like he might fall asleep. "You too tired to hang out?"

"Oh hey Justin," Eric smiled at me and the room seemed like it lit up. "No, no it is cool. I am just so damn bored. All day today all I have had to do is lay here and take naps off and on. That seems to be the only way time goes by. Come in and sit."

"Damn, I wish I had your life. What I couldn't do with a few hours of sleep. I feel like I have been up forever."

Eric laughed. "Yeah well it looks more

glamorous then it really is. I really just want to get the hell out of here and get moving around. I am not used to lounging around in bed.at least now without someone else in it." Eric almost sounded like he was hinting at something for me, but I knew that I was just my imagination. Irregardless I had to admit that it was a pleasant fantasy for me. "So what have you been up too today to keep you up if you are so tired?" Eric brought me out of my daydreaming.

"Oh.uh.not a whole lot," I slipped back into reality. "Not a whole lot. All the normal shit, hang with my brother, argue with my Mom, visit with Rick and Mrs. Cross. You know the normal thing." It was after I had said it that I realized that he didn't know what was normal for me. I had gotten so used to thinking of him closer that I forgot how little he knew.

"Arguing with you Mom?" The concern in his voice was unmistakable. "Is there anything wrong you want to talk about? I know that I offered before but I know what it is like if there is problems in the family." I paused and looked at Eric for a minute. It was

hard not to just blurt everything out and just talk to him. Just staring into his one deep blue eye that was not covered and I almost could not stop myself from talking. Deep down I just felt like he could make things better. I knew better though, this would have been a lot to lay on a friend that I had known forever, let alone someone I had only met early this morning. There was also the fear that I would lose that friend before I really got to know him. I was not sure why but I knew that if I was going to face my demons I needed him on my side. Thus it was back to the song and dance of avoiding talking about it.

"Nah it is all fine," I lied, well sort of, I mean everything was fine at the moment. I felt dirty though for not being completely honest with him. I guess that was one of those damn honesty things I had a problem with again. "We just had a small argument. Everything will work out. It has just been a stressful day for everyone, but it will end well that I know. On a different subject though, I guess I will be staying here through the weekend instead of going back to Burke tonight."

Eric seemed to light up even more at that. "Cool, I am outta here tomorrow morning. We have to do something!" He blurted out excitedly. "I mean if you want too," he calmed his voice down a little and looked sheepishly at me. "Yeah we do," Even if I did not want to hang out

with him, which I did, in fact I felt like I wanted to spend every waking hour with him, or actually I guess every hour with him, I don't think I could have ever said no to that face. "We should do something to celebrate your freedom from the hospital. So whatever you want to do, I am cool with that."

"Sweet," he grinned back to me. "I am not sure that my Mom would be cool with me getting out of the house so soon from the hospital, but I could use some X-Box time. I don't know if you have played much Halo, but I bet I could kick your ass in it." Eric laughed.

"We will see, we will see," I could not help but laugh with him. "I have not played for awhile but I used to be terror in that game."

We talked till a little after eleven. Time seemed to have no meaning in that room and I noticed none of it go by. We joked about who could beat who in Halo and shared some of our war stories of Halo. Then we talked about a couple of other games and about how the new Halo sucked compared to the old. I had to admit that it was nice for someone to agree with me about that. My friends at Burke all thought that the new one was better. Sure the boards were bigger, but they just screwed up a lot of the parts of the game that I liked.

As I realized that it was getting late Eric gave me his address. It was ironic but he lived two blocks down from the Cross's. I joked about that and Eric joked back that at least if he had to sneak out of the house for awhile that he knew where to go now. I gave him the Cross's phone number and told him to feel free to leave messages there for me. They would give it to me, even if you left it on the machine. I then got up to leave.

Eric put his hand out and I shook it. His hand was so soft and warm. It felt almost like electricity to touch it. It was the best feeling I think I had felt forever. I could be lost just in the grasp of his hand. I didn't want to let go, but I knew that I could not hold onto it forever. I think I did hold onto it a bit longer then I should have, but thankfully Eric didn't seem to notice. As I walked at of the room I felt great and I felt strong enough to do what I had to do.

I walked to ICU. As I got closer slowly that

strong feeling of courage began to wane. Every step became heavier and heavier. I passed the waiting room and felt some relief that neither my Mom nor Elaine was there, of course they might be in the room. The dread in me seemed to grow more and more. Still though I managed to keep my resolve and stay on my course of action. It had become a sort of pilgrimage to face my demon that was my father. For the first time in a couple of years I was afraid of being alone. I wished that Eric was with me or Rick or Patrick. Unfortunately I had to do this alone.

I arrived at his room and walked in. There was a split second of relief as I as realized no one was in here, but that changed as I stared at my father laying there in the bed. I felt like a deer in headlights staring at him. The sounds of the breathing machine and the beeping of the machines taking his readings were the only noise in the room. He now had two IV drips going into his arm and to be honest even though the machines said that he was alive, he looked dead. I pitied him just laying there. I knew from just looking at him that it was the end. I took a few deep breaths and walked over to him

and took the chair by his bed. Now that I was hear I really was not sure what I was going to do. Looking at him I could remember the man that I did love when I was little. I could remember the softer side of him. That though was the conflict because I could still feel the wounds of what he had done to me and what he had taken from me. I wondered if he knew I was here or if he could hear me. I guess that did not matter because this was not for him, but for me.

I cleared my throat and began. "Dad.I don't know if you can hear me or not, but there are some things I need to say to you. I knew that this is the only way I could ever do this." I paused trying to think what to say. "I know that I was never the best son. I was not the winner and obviously I was not the son you dreamed of having, but I was your son. Yes, you had a fag son, but you had no right to treat me like you did. You know I loved.hell I do love you still. I know that I can't pick my Father. You may have been an asshole and arrogant bastard, but with all your faults, you were my father. Why could you never see me as your son?"

My eyes started to water up. "Elaine maybe

right, and maybe I will go to hell for being gay, but I never had a choice. One thing you taught me growing up was that the truth was important. You always told Patrick and I never to lie. To be honest I think it would have been the greater sin to lie. I am who I am, I cannot be anything more. Why was that not good enough?"

I had begun to cry. "Growing up I always tried

to fit your mold of a man. When you said I was not doing enough to win, I tried harder, even when it was too hard to keep trying. When I played sports I would work at it until every muscle in my body ached in pain just to get your love. There were times I practiced until I vomited. Most children don't have to run after their fathers for love, why the hell did I have to sprint?"

I reached over and held my Fathers hand. "You know even after the four years of my exile from the family, I never stopped loving you. How fucked up is that? Did you ever have any love for the son that you hated? Did you ever think about me or wonder how I was doing? Even though I never admitted it, I know not a day went by that I did not wonder how you and the family were doing. You always told me in life to never look back, well I guess that makes me more of a loser."

I stood up and wiped the tears from my eyes. "For four years I have ran from you. You and your shadow have made me run from everything that I loved. Instead of the nurturing father you should have been, you were one that was slowly strangling me. You made me run from myself and even run from life itself. I will not go quietly into the night though. I will not keep dying because of the memory of you. You may be dying and while I do hate to see that, no matter what you think, I am not going to keep dying. In an ironic way, the same way your stroke may have set you into a prison that death will be your only outcome, it has set me free. I am alive and like it or not I am and always will be your son."

My words had more conviction then I ever

could imagine them having while facing my father. "I am not going to run from Tate or you anymore. I am here. I am Justin Aaron Caldwell and I am your gay son. I don't know if there is an afterlife, but if there is I wonder if you will have to face up for what you have done to me. You always said that everyone had to face up to their responsibilities, and I hope you have to too. This is not my fault, it is yours."

I got up and without looking back I walked out

of the room and out to my car. As I stepped outside the building I looked back up into the sky and for the first time in a long time I saw some dreams in those stars. I saw the wonder in the cosmos again. I could breathe in life again. The winds of despair had changed, for how long I did not know, but at that moment I did not care. All I knew was I had faced my demons and walked away stronger.