Well, I’m sure everyone at this funeral reception knows me. Whether you are well-acquainted with my father’s immediate family or overheard of the troublesome son under his roof, I’m Cory Maxson. Maxson. Even now, after seven or eight years of independence, I still associate the name “Troy” with “Maxson” before my own. That’s just one measure of the substantial impact he’s had on me. I’m going to be completely honest and not sugarcoat my perspective of this man, even as I stand upon his own grave. Even though I’m not supposed to explicitly insult him during an event held to honor his legacy, I’m still going to state the reasons I contemptuously recall my memories of living with him. Firstly, he was not the most caring and supportive of fathers. I know, this sounds like I’m going to revert to my whiny teenager days and resume complaining of, “Pop wouldn’t let me play baseball just because he never played professionally! He’s just jealous and wants to ruin my …show more content…
Raynell, please consider that it was a tough situation for our family, and by no means am I dishonoring your birth. Several months after that incident, my fear of him drastically decreased. Here was a man who restricted my own life by asserting my duties of “being an obedient son” with the chores and A&P job, when he couldn’t even maintain his fidelity! Here was a man faced with disunion after the abandonment of two women he loved, the loss of respect from his dearest friend Bono, and the company of his brother Gabriel, whose containment was probably arranged by Troy himself. The escape never seemed so simple and right! My father had never seemed so exposed once he was stripped of the very dignity that led me to grudgingly acknowledge his position at the head of our house. However, I mistakenly interpreted this as vulnerability. My third strike was on the line during the day I held his own bat against him, and he regained the upper hand on his bat and his fenced-in house to expel