Haven't seen pops in over two dang years now, and that image of him walking away sticks in my mind, like a bad dream. It was winter, my granny had just bit the dust, and my old man told his lousy job to take a hike. Crummy time in our lives. Hightailed it from PDX to Seattle, planning to tag along with my old man for the funeral. In Seattle, our stuff was all over the place, and my granny's memory was a sledgehammer to my soul, and the waterworks were relentless.

My old man says, "In times like these, no need to be such a downer. Thank the Lord, every cloud's got a silver lining."

We hawked our stuff, paid off the dirtbag debts, even borrowed a few crummy bucks to throw a lousy funeral party. Home life was a total mess, half drowned in mourning and half in my old man's lazy ass routine. After the funeral, my old man had to hustle to Vancouver for some business, and I had to drag my sorry rear back to Portland to hit the books. So, we decided to roll together.

We hit Vancouver, and some so-called pals invited us to blow off some steam for a day, screwing up our plans. Next morning, we had to hike our butts across the river to Surrey and catch that lousy northbound train in the afternoon. My old man, too wrapped up in his own manure, originally said he wouldn't see me off, told that shady dude from the hotel to babysit me. He must've said that a million times, but eventually, he chickened out, thinking maybe that dude wouldn't cut it, so he decided to roll with me.

I told him, "Old man, save your energy." He checked outside the train and said, "I'm gonna grab some apples. You just sit tight, don't move an inch." Saw a few sleazy vendors on the other side of the tracks, just hanging around like they owned the place. To get there, you had to navigate those freaking tracks, jump down, and claw your way back up. My old man was a tubby dude, so the drop wasn't too bad. Thought about lending a hand, but he insisted he'd do it. Saw him don that dorky wool cap, that beat-up trench coat, and a faded navy blue cotton robe, slowly easing down to the tracks. That part was cake. Climbing back up on our side? Total nightmare for him. He yanked himself up, using both mitts, leaning a bit to the left with that beer belly of his, huffing and puffing. At that moment, I saw his fading figure, and anger surged like a tidal wave. Wiped those dang tears away, afraid he'd catch me crying, or some nosy punk might notice. Glanced outside again, and he'd grabbed a bunch of bright red apples and was heading back. After he clambered back over the tracks, he got his act together, and then continued his journey with the apples. When he reached our side, I rushed over to lend a hand. We walked back to the train, and he dumped all those apples on my sorry coat. I wiped off the filth, and it felt like a freaking albatross had been lifted. After a bit, he said, "I'm outta here. Drop me a line when you make it!" I watched him split. He took a few steps, turned around, and said, "Get your ass inside, there's no one around." By the time his figure blended into the crowd, I couldn't see him anymore, and that well of anger overflowed.

Lately, my old man and I have been all over the place, and home life has gone straight to hell. He started strong, a real go-getter, making big things happen. But he never imagined things would get so screwed up in his golden years. That chip on his shoulder, it spilled into our family life. He started treating me like crap. But in these last two years, away from him, he's finally let go of my screw-ups, only thinking about me and my kid. After I came back up to the northwest, he sent me a letter. In it, he said, "I'm hanging in there health-wise, but my arm's a real pain in the neck. Can't even pick up a fork or a pen without cussing like a sailor. Looks like the big sleep isn't too far off." As I read that letter, a tornado of anger roared through my brain, and once more, I saw his bulky figure, wearing that dumb wool cap, a beat-up trench coat, and that godforsaken purple woolen robe. Hell, I don't know when the hell we'll cross paths again.