Questions
a dramatic monologue by D.J. Ozog
Blood is thicker than water, or so I’ve been told. It’s supposed to mean that your family is all that matters, that they’ll stick with you through thick and thin, and you’re expected to do the same. But is it? Was blood thicker than water when my grand-mother told my mother, broken arm and scared child in tow, that she “made her own bed”?
My mother Debbie is a blessing. She’s an angel without wings. Her constant sacrifices throughout her life have been nothing but selfless and kind. And looking back, it might’ve been in vain. And it shouldn’t have been, but my mother let me do whatever I wanted, and always told me I could be whatever I wanted. So I did what I wanted. Which was nothing. I learned nothing, I grew nothing, I gave nothing and now I wish I could take it all back. Is it too late?
When I moved back home the prodigal son, I was surprised. My mother went from a vivacious and extroverted lively woman to an older lady in need of naps often. It made me sad, if I’m being honest, if I’m being blunt. Sad that I wasted so much time away that I’ll never get back. Sad that there’s obviously not much time left. Sad that I could’ve done so much more to make her life easier, like she had done to mine. Is it too late?
I remember vividly, as a 10-year-old child, my mother and step-father were crazy about each other. Weeknights were spent with Michael and my mother having dinner, followed by lively conversations over the TV. When he was home, that is. As a long-haul trucker, he was usually only home weekends. Those weekends were spent with cheap cologne, loud country music, and my parents dancing together while getting ready to go do even more dancing at some dive bar in Niagara Falls. What did she see in him?
I hated him so much, growing up. I hated that he was there, and I hated that he and my mom seemed to be happy. I might’ve even hated that he wasn’t my real dad. Because blood is thicker than water, and the man that was supposed to be my father was nowhere to be found. Sure, he had visitation rights, but he never utilized them. Sure, he put me in the hospital 4 times for various reasons when he had full custody of me. Sure, I had pissed my pants a dozen times at a bar on King St. in Welland, playing the arcade games because my father was passed out at the bar for hours on end. But Michael wasn’t Dennis. Why did I hate him?
The last time I went somewhere with my biological father was in 1991. He took me hunting up north. I don’t remember much, but he ended up getting drunk and beating me so bad that I was hospitalized. Again. Apparently I mishandled something gun-related. Was blood thicker than water? Michael and my mother drove the 12 hours to get to the hospital in the Sault. Eventually everything calmed down and months later, Dennis decided he wanted to try one more time to be the father I so desperately wanted him to be at one time. Why even bother?
But my mother, the one with the wings? She left the choice up to me. Did I want to see Dennis again? Did I want to see my father? I was old enough to understand things now and I was old enough to make my own choice. So I declined, and long story short, daddy-dearest ended up at the house on Hellems Ave with a shotgun. The cops arrived, but the crux of it all is that they knew my father. They were friends. Absolutely nothing happened to them. We even enlisted Peter Kormos for help, but the cops and legal system did nothing. Is blood thicker than water?
The rest of the tale sort of bounces into fantasyland. I’m not sure how much of it I believe, but everyone involved swore it happened. Weeks, maybe months pass and things are back to normal. I end up never hearing from Dennis again, not even on his deathbed. It turns out my step-father, step-brother, and security from the Welland Hospital all paid a visit to Dennis and kicked the shit out of him. I didn’t learn about this until I was in my mid 20s. Long after my hatred for my step family abated, and long after I had written Dennis off completely, but I definitely had the answer to at least one of the questions now. Is blood thicker than water?
No. It’s not.