One of Those “Oh, Aha” Moments
The eldest of my sisters sent my middle sister and me text message regarding the deed to her house. Her comment was that the deed was not signed by the name of our Dad that we knew him by growing up but a different name. This brought to my attention one of those “aha” moments that prompted an “Oh” response from my sisters. The following is the information I share via text messages.
My sisters are aware that I do research on our family tree, gathering documents and storied from family, especially on our Dad’s side. Doing so only confirmed information we saw in my Dad’s paperwork as we prepared for his funeral and burial back in July of 1985. My brother and two of my sisters always knew my Dad’s name to be Virgilio and hearing his family and friends calling him Bello. Looking through my Dad’s paper work, I found his birth certificate, a recent copy with the name Benigno; when did his name change? I had no idea at the time but his social security card read Benigno along his Medical card. In his 50’s Dad was disabled due to a server lung disease on top of emphysema which he already and on oxygen. Dad could no longer work. I thought nothing more about this until today.
Doing family research, I told my sisters that I found a birth registration filed by our Dad’s father recording the birth of our Dad, not born on the date Dad believed and the name given, Benigno. He was not name Virgilio. I shared with my sister that this explains my current birth certificate which does not have Dad’s name on it. My mother never sent in the registration form to get my birth certificate. I applied for a birth certificate needing one to apply for a passport and send the form my mother kept with the file number and both Dad’s full name by which we knew and my mother’s full maiden name. When I received my birth certificate, Dad’s name was not listed, Virgilio did not exist? Oh.... was this because Dad’s name was Benigno? So, I have no proof that Virgilio was my Dad, nor was Benigno was our Dad, the man we buried in July 1985.
This brings to mind Dad’s other name by which he went, Poncho. Dad, was a heavy smoker, a drinker and a gambler who kept losing his money even when taking on two jobs. Dad was abusive, and when he was angry and mad and went down the block to the bar, his abusive behavior intensified. There were days, sometimes weeks my siblings and I would wish he were gone, leave our mother alone. One night, while we were all at the dinner table, our door bell sounded. I got up to answer the door and as I did, Dad told me to say he was not home. I went to the door and two police offers were at the door asking if Poncho lived here. This was the first time I heard Dad called Poncho. I said, “Hold on a second” and went to the table. I just said to Dad, “You’re wanted at the door.” Dad got up went to the door and did not come back until two days later. Dad was arrested.
Was I bad? Was I being smart? Yes, I did him dirty. I don’t think Dad talked to me much that week. All I knew was this, my mother, my siblings and I had peace for a few days. Do I regret it? Nah… it was about time that I stood up to defend my family, and teach my Dad a lesson he wouldn’t forget. When I shared this memory with my sisters, they laughed, they remembered. The action I took that night was certainly an “Aha” moment.
Comments
Post a Comment