It used to be the joke around the shop, he was the one that we did not name. He had this power to show up when he was spoken of and believe me no one wanted him to show up. Well that’s not entirely true. The underage gutter punks didn’t mind so much, when he would cop them booze. They would quickly learn the err of their ways when the alcohol hit his bloodstream. Now I have never claimed to be a bad ass. I’ve never been in a fight and never plan on it. Yet I have this gift that I received from my mom. It’s the power to not be scared or intimidated by anyone. He on the other hand had this ability to make me and anyone around uncomfortable.
I guess I should give you some background to the story, from when I was a teenager hanging out in the village. It was and still is the place to go when you don’t quite fit in. Which is why I fit right in. As a teenager I was the quiet one that watched and absorbed all that was around me. Drugs were always around but I made a point to not partake until I felt I was ready. I made rules for myself that if I was to do any drugs I would observe people on it and then decide if I wanted to act like that. (Which is a wonder that I ever started drinking!) He was the type that if it would get him high he’d do it. No matter that amount, combo or repercussions. He always made me feel uneasy so I made sure that I was never within a close proximity. I will never forget the phone call I received from a friend one night when she decided to get a ride home from him. She told me about how he tried to force himself on her and that was all I needed to know that he was, well evil.
The years went passed and still you would hear stories of robberies, fights and rape. You hear about his bouts with the law and run ins with that summer’s batch of travelers. When the question would come up of who you would like to see get hurt, he always came to mind. For me he was the definition of psychopath. I don’t know if he ever killed anyone but what I do know is that he brought hardship and pain to countless people for decades. Until this past week, that is.
I read is obituary today and I was in no way saddened by it. I will admit that realizing he was someone’s father did strike a chord with me. Then again she’ll never have to know how truly horrible he really was. I can only imagine the hardship he put his family through and that they can finally get there life back. They can now grieve for the last time and say good bye to their son. The pain they must have gone through with all the times he went to jail. How horrified they’d become when he would relapse again and again. Not knowing if he was just in some drug induced stupor or laying dead somewhere.
Now don’t get me wrong, I feel like no parent should suffer through the lose of their child. I think no child should have to go through life with the knowledge that a parent is dead. But I also believe that if you use your life to destroy so many others, than there comes a point when those feelings change. So with that said I can find some resolve in the fact that no one else will be harmed by this man. So, ding dong he who has no name is dead!