When My Son Died by Kenn Pitawanakwat

Author:Kenn Pitawanakwat [Pitawanakwat, Kenn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Grief, Anishinaabe, Aboriginal, First Nation
ISBN: 9780994964816
Publisher: Kenn Pitawanakwat
Published: 2015-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

How do I describe you and your life’s achievements? I don’t think I can. At the very outset, the father of two beautiful girls, the oldest of my kids, and certainly cousin, nephew, and only son and child for your mom. To your granny, a grandson.

The remains from that circle were enclosed in a plain dark plastic container. I held that container as if I was cradling an infant. As if you were a baby, I cradled and held firm to my boy on the ride home to Cutler. To Mom’s and Grandma’s home. The plastic was warm as your spirit, mind and body used to be when cooking elaborate meals and skiing extreme terrain. I would have liked to have seen you hurl down avalanche snowcapped mountains, my love. My fault I missed that. But I did see and hear the need for food variety, color, and balance, when applying culinary skills.

“Dad, it has to be visually appealing.”

My mission was to bring you home safely. My job was to deliver your remains to your Mom and family. They waited at the house. It reminded me of all those road trips we used to take. My job as the driver was to get to our destination safely. In later years it was your job to help us take care of your siblings. First it was Angie. Then Teresa and then Dave. I still have photographs and slides and even some videos, I think, of you and the family.

In these last few moments, I was trying to make up for some thirty-eight years of abandonment. I deserted my baby when he was about four. But on that day, on that final road trip, I was determined to safely deliver. If this was my last mission on earth, by god, I was going to get it right! I was attempting to be the best father, protector, and teacher. In all those things I failed miserably. My fault!

As in those few hours at the wake, I did not leave you alone. Who would desert a defenseless child? I sat there. In vigil. Vigilant. Too little? Too late? I was attempting to reconcile three decades of neglect. I left you. And you left your girls. I am very sorry for giving a bad example. That is not a father who is loving and considerate. Love you, my baby boy. I always will. And I feel sad every day. And I cry. And I always will.

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