The Blood Of My Children 2

FuelMix was chatting to a fag at the University of Fag Bar (pending accreditation) and enquired about his family. The fag went ballistic – not at FuelMix - but at the memory of his father. He hated the man, his violent temper, his drinking binges, the physical brutality towards him and his mother, the repeated sexual abuse he sustained, the debt ridden anguish, his father’s abandonment and early death. Fag wasn’t there at his deathbed and never went to the funeral. He almost spat at the man’s memory.

Fag declared his dad had taught him nothing. He would never emulate the man or thank him for anything.

FuelMix observed that the fag didn’t drink alcohol, had a steady job, lived within his means and sent money every month to his Mom. Fag just shrugged.

FuelMix suggested that fag’s father was an excellent teacher who taught by an example so extreme, that fag unconsciously had no choice but to ensure that he never repeated dad’s lessons. Dad had clearly delineated the red zone into which the fag would never enter, thereby protecting fag from himself. Rather than hating his dad perhaps fag should thank him silently, for teaching him as best he knew, release him and move on.

Fag looked aghast. After a pause he said softly, “I never thought of that”.

When the conversation ended, fag gave FuelMix a long lingering hug and a delicate kiss. “Thank you”, whispered the fag.

FuelMix is no sage. But he is smart enough to realize that often the lesson the Universe teaches, is the complete opposite of the facts that it presents.

Originally published 6 May 2006
Amended and Republished 23 May 2013 | 6 November 2014 | 7 March 2016

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