Honor thy Father

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A aging man sat, slumped and rotting on his large blue suede couch. His beard bristles grew unruly and white, in his old age he had gradually lost his mind. Not of his own consent however, more from the work of a mild stroke and severe seizure. The man’s son was told time and time again that he was like this before the illness that cursed his mind and body. His son still could not retreat from the thoughts of his father, and how terribly sad they made him.

He hated his father, he was never beaten however, nor had to be taught a hard lesson in a very hard manner. Acts like throwing your son into the pool, or the lie that every father must give when pushing their son on their first bike. But not before letting go, releasing their son, changing their son.


A father must not be loved, for if he is loved, then his job is not yet done. It is not a question of why a father must be hated, more of a necessity. A mother is, and always will be seen as nurturing, caring and kind, and as they should be. A mother teaches their child how to love their partner, how to show compassion and general kindness at large.

A father teaches the things a mother could not, nor should. Besides their talk of principles and respect, they show very little in the end.


The aging man stood from his couch, his shirt was stained with coffee and dirt. He moved to the kitchen, for his dinner was almost done, A large blue table presented itself to him. He walked around the side of the table, away from his wife who was cooking, and towards the coffee flavored candies that sat, stale in their bowl. They called out to him, their disgusting flavoring was heaven to the man, he turned his wrinkled head towards his son, noticing how he walked funny with a large trash bag in his hands. He laughed commenting on his son’s walk, the son, now distraught and generally annoyed looked to his mother, whom shook her head in disagreement.

The son kept quiet, he felt a strong tugging sensation in his mind, forcing him to scream out against his father. He did not do so, however. The father felt alone in his conversation with his son, he looked down to his dog, who was now panting in the heavy air, thick with moisture. He told the dog a story, about an endeavor at work that day, the dog gave the same silence as the boy, but the man understood this. He realized long ago that if he were to be ignored, he would at least be ignored by someone who could not physically answer back. While this comforted the old man in his spiteful ways, he still felt this deeply rooted apathy towards not only himself, but to his family.

He barely showered, he forced overused jokes on his son and outer family during birthday parties and so on. He realized how redundant the jokes were, but he was just seeing if he really was being ignored, or, if he really was going mad. He passed on second hand crazy to his family as well, with every word spoken to the dog, with every inability he had with doing things around the house, he could not , would not stop. Ever.





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