It’s a summer morning in 2009. My name is Christopher Rudolph; I was 8 years old at the time and my dad, Peter Rudolph, was making hot dogs and burgers on the grill for people in the neighborhood to enjoy. He’d do this every Saturday and he was well known in the neighborhood for it. Being a little kind I’d always think I had the best Dad in the world, I mean, I did. But he wasn’t invincible. Earlier that year he’d survived a heart attack and we were worried for his safety for a long time afterwards. But he’s stronger than that, he wouldn’t let something like that stop him from showing love to the neighborhood. He’s a great guy, but his condition would catch up to him eventually. Recently he’s been having problems breathing and chest pains. He’s in the hospital now and he insists he’ll be fine. I trust him, and he trusts me. I'm 22 now, so I think he expects me to take care of Mom while he’s gone. I know she’s worried, I can do that.
Welcome to the dingy basement of one of my college friends, there's no smell but you can tell it hasn’t gotten maintenance in quite a while. We usually come down here to practice for our band, The Sidewinders, or we just kinda hang out. Oh, let me introduce you to everyone. Obviously there's me, I've been part of this band ever since I met Keven McStrong in college. I’m the lead singer, as well as the guitarist. This is Keven’s basement and it was kind of his idea, after he heard my singing voice I don’t blame him. Oh, and we can’t forget our biggest distraction, Bear, well her real name is Panella Pots, she's our drummer, and the best drummer I’ve ever met. She saw college as a distraction from her real passion: music, so she’s crashing with Keven in this basement, so this is kind of her house too. Then there's my best friend since kindergarten, Vanessa Pepper, but I call her Ness. I’m the only one she lets call her that. She’s our bass player, though Keven can play bass too, I think she’s better.
One day during a practice I get a phone call from the hospital, I answer hoping for the best, optimism is pretty much what’s gotten me through these last few weeks. But the call I got was not what I hoped for, it was the complete opposite actually. I thought closed and I couldn’t breath, I felt something brewing inside me until a gear in my head just snapped. I left, without even telling them what had happened, I regret that now.
“Chris, where’re you going?” Ness asked.
Panella commented, “Is he being moody again?”
Ness was immediately worried, she was clueless to what could’ve happened, but I’m sure she had her suspicions.
I drove off and they stood there in silence for a moment before Ness asked, “Can one of you drive me home? He was kind of my ride.”
When I arrive at the hospital I’m greeted by my mother. It was the most unpleasant greeting I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing, tears filled her eyes and screams filled the room. But only from her, her mouth was the only one to utter a sound, I stood, in silence and disbelief. I couldn’t even look at him, I didn’t even get to see him, this was truly the worst day of my life.
The next morning my mother is out doing...well, I’m not sure actually, but I get a ring at the door, It’s Ness.
I answer with a Jolly smile, “Hey Nessy!”
“Um, hey Chris. You left pretty suddenly last night, what happened?”
“Oh, ha! You know me, when I got somethin’ to do I got somethin’ to do.” I answered.
“Yea, but, usually you say what it is you have to do. Yesterday you just kinda-” she crinkles her nose and sniffs, “Are you cooking?”
“Oh yea! I’m making some cookies for when he gets back from the hospital. White chocolate, those are his favorite!”
The concerned expression disappears from her face, “Oh, is Mr. Peters coming back?!”
“Oh, um, yea. I think.”
The concerned expression returns to her face, “You think?”
“I...uh...I’ll talk to you later.” I closed the door before she could say anything else.
This goes on for another day or so, I miss practices and Keven calls me around 6pm every night to attempt to ask what's up. I give him the same “I’m fine!” and “Nothings wrong!” everytime he calls. Panella never called, but she did leave a letter:
“Hey, Bear here. I know somethins up with you, and it's fine if you don’t wanna talk about it, I’ve been there. But can you at least tell us when you're not gonna be at practice? P.S. I can see the cooking staking on your Kitchen Island, you gonna share?"
She was well mannered, but I think she had the least of ideas of what might be happening. Eventually I did return to practice around a week later. During a song my strums became wild and erratic. It no longer resembled the song we were playing. The rest of them stopped but I kept going, Pots seeming the most surprised. I kept strumming to the point where my fingers bled, and what I was playing no longer sounded like music. I stopped about ten seconds after they all stopped playing, hyperventilating with staggering hands I realized. “I was being stared at, I was being judged.” I thought to myself.
Keven concerningly said, “Dude, you good?”
Suddenly I yelled, throwing the pick that went unused to the side, it getting lost underneath the couch, “What! You don’t like my playing?!”
“I didn-”
“Well, I love my playing!” I interrupted, “I think it sounds sick! I think it’s the best thing I ever played!”
Keven raises his forearms, jestering his hands downward, “You need to chill out.”
“I don’t need to chill out! You need to chill out! If you don’t like my playing, you can just leave!!!”
Keven responds, “Well I live here, so wouldn’t it make more sense for you to-”
“Fine!!!” I say before smashing my guitar and walking out.
Keven attempts to explain himself, “Wait, that's not what I-” but I was already gone.
When I left I didn’t go home however, illuminated by street lamps was a park, I was there alone residing on a bench. What I didn’t know is that Vanessa was following me. She sat on the bench next to me, not saying a word.
Eventually I broke the silence, “You know my dad loved this park. When I was little we would come here and feed the ducks, it was...so boring, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the little things in life, that's just how he was. I guess that's probably why he threw all of those barbecues, he knew how much time might have so he wanted to use that time to make people happy.”
“Is your dad ok?” she asked.
Her question is met with silence.
“Are you ok?”
“Yea, I’m fine.” I answered quickly.
“You know it's ok to not be ok.” she said.
“No.” I said before getting up and walking away.
When I returned home later that night I went to my parents room and looked through my dads old memory box. He always made sure to have something from every era of his life, and mine, in there. So many pictures, him and grandma at Disney World, him and Mom when they were still teens, a copy of their wedding photo, him and me, he was holding me up like I was the only thing that mattered, a little baby spawning from a history that could be admired or ignored, it really didn’t matter too much. He wanted my life to be mine, as his was his own. The rest of the pictures were of me and Ness, at least that's what I saw before the overwhelming emotions rushed through me and I could no longer see past the tears. When I was done I put the box away and went to bed. I would proceed to stay in that bed for three days, without leaving or eating. I got phone calls from the band, mostly from Vanessa and Mom. Ma was giving me space, she knew I needed it, I don’t think she knew how bad I’ve gotten, she hadn’t been home very often in the last few weeks, only coming home to sleep, she’s been spending all her time at the church. I felt like I failed him, he wanted me to take care of her but here she is in the same slump as me. How am I supposed to hold his legacy if I can’t even obey? What right do I have to be here right now?
I get up and head to my car. I turn it on and start driving to the church. As I was driving I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing, I was thinking about what I’ve been doing and how horrible I’ve been. I thought I didn’t deserve anything, though all I wanted was to go back to the days where my only worries were the condiments on my hot dog. I close my eyes and reminisce, but when I do I hear a skid, then darkness.
I wake up somewhere I didn’t recognize, I couldn’t see much of anything, but I hear a voice, “You're doing great, just hang in there son.” I don’t know where it came from but before I could think about it I felt a warm embrace. I was in a hospital, I don’t remember how I got here but I felt Vanessa and Moms arms wrapped around me. Keven and Pepper were there too, they seemed relieved. They told me I was in a car accident last night and I was injured, at least I was alive. Vanessa requested to speak to me in private before everyone walked out of the room.
I stopped Keven before he left, calling him, “Hey, I’m sorry about last time. I know I’ve been acting like a jerk. I’m sorry.”
He nods, saying, “It’s ok man.” before walking out.
Vanessa asked, “You don’t have to say what's up, and you have every right to not answer. But do you wanna tell me what's going on now?”
My eyes began to water, I hesitated for a moment before answering, “Dad...Dads dead. I didn’t even get to see him, or say goodbye.” I found myself on the verge of tears, but still holding back.
“I thought. It’s ok to not be ok.” She held her arms out and gave me another hug as I cried into her arms, more than I’ve ever cried before in my entire life.
That day I learned what a life meant, the legacy and knowledge passed is a life in it of itself, mourn them now but know that your legacy is still left to be paved. Whether you follow one, or you make your own, your life is yours.
