Work Text:
The Greatest Man I Never Knew
by SisterWine
sisterwine75@hotmail.com
By: R. MacKensie LeBeau
When I was about four years old, my poppa was taking me to the zoo. I didn't want to sit in my stroller so, he let me walk and held my hand as we walked down the sidewalk. I was so excited that I ran ahead of him and stopped abruptly when he called my name. Dancing and waiting for him to hurry up, I held out my hand and whispered, "Don' worry poppa, I help you cross de street."
Poppa laughed and let me lead him across the road, letting me think that I was a grownup. He was good like a best friend should be. He carried me on his shoulders and huddled me close to him when I got scared of big animals. Safe was the feeling I felt in his arms. That was the first time I had gotten to spend with him because he was always on the go with his job as an X-Man. I remember thinking that he was always so busy, it was easy to forget me but, no matter where he went in the world he would always bring me something from wherever he was.
When I was about nine, we would sit and play chess on the front porch and he would always let me win, making me think he didn't know how to play the game. That was my favourite time of day, when I would sit and play with him and listen to his stories of wonderful places that he and momma went on missions to. The way he would describe the places and the people made me think that I was lucky to have him come home every night. That was his magic charms.
It wasn't all the time that poppa would tell me about his work. Sometimes, he wouldn't say anything to me, sometimes for days. The bad most often won over the good. There were nights that he didn't eat or sleep but pace the livingroom floor and worry about every detail on his next assignment. Poppa would do that on the simplest of things. He'd even worry about me going to school in the morning.
He didn't come home for several nights when I was fourteen. By the second night, I'd stay up and wait for him, no matter how much Logan always told me to go to bed. I used to lie on the sofa and listen for the truck to pull into the drive and wait for the key in the door before turning my head and saying hello. I didn't mind being ignored as he passed me and went up for a shower and then bed but, the look on his face everytime.... it drove me insane that he wouldn't tell me about it. I suppose now, he just couldn't.
My last words to him before he went off on his last mission, were absolutely horrible. I was completely cruel and I am rarely that cruel. I told him that I hated him and wished he would die and never come back from the mission. When I got my wish, my heart sank so far down into my stomach that I lurched at the thought of myself.
Today is the anniversary that they've been gone. Hard to believe that they've been gone a year. I'll never have the chance to tell him that I'm glad he was my poppa. I hope my son knows that his grandpere is up there looking down on him. There are days I just hate missing him and Logan. Since poppa was a man of mostly few words, he never really said he loved me but I guess he thought that I knew. I do, poppa.
I hope this essay gives me some credit for being a LeBeau.