ONE FATHER’S STORY
The last time I saw my parents I was 17 and married. I have a daughter from that marriage. Her name is Amanda. She lost her life when she was eight years old. Drunk driver.
I was living in San Bernardino working for a trucking company loading trucks. Before that I had done 10 years locked up for doing stupid things. I was trying to get myself straight when I found out that my little girl lost her life. It took me a long time to learn to handle the death of my Amanda.
I started using needle drugs and travelling all over California. After the Carnival Season ended I came to San Francisco, spending the winter as a homeless person. I found a place in the park in front of City Hall.
There were few places a homeless person could get proper assistance or help that they needed to leave the life on the streets. St. Anthony’s. Martin de Porres. Glide. They were here. But little else.
One day I was sitting in Carl’s Jr. at 7th Street & Market when this older couple came in and sat across from me. They were talking about the dime pitch. A game I know well. They would become the best friends I will ever meet. I call them Mom & Dad.
I left San Francisco with some Amusement Company or another.
I met my second wife.
I moved to Livermore. First I was a sandwich maker at All-American Hero. Stoneridge Mall. Pleasanton. I got another job as a cook for Sweetriver Saloon for two years. Really cool bunch they were until I found out my wife was pregnant. I got nervous and took off and came back to S.F. to get high.
I was not forced to be a part in the madness. A boy. I went back to see him come into the world. Kicking and screaming. Michael Lyle, Jr. My son.
A few years went by and in trouble I got.
We moved from Livermore. Tracey. Mantica. And back to Tracey. Bad things happened. I got ratted on by my so-called partner. My Bro-Brother. I got two years. I had 90 days to turn myself in.
I took my family to Portland. Got a place for them to stay. And came back to California to do my time.
Two years up at Pelican Bay State Penitentiary. I became a structural fireman. Certified by the State Fire Marshall. I did like learning about fire fighting but it does me no good now.
I was paroled to Stockton and moved to Mantica. Left my second wife and moved in with my new girl. That lasted three years. During that time, my second daughter was born. Her name is Gabbie.
I was in Union Local 1130 in Modesto. Then I had a car accident. Hurt my back. Couldn’t do cement work. The money stopped.
Her mother left me. I have not seen my daughter in about three years.
I went back to Fresno and my ex-wife. We lasted two months. Then I met a truly beautiful person.
She was a Christian. I was an ex-con. Opposites do attract.
I will always love you.
You see we had a beautiful baby boy named Jacob. Our son was born with a congenital disorder. He lived for 59 minutes.
After his funeral, I came back to San Francisco. I don’t really know why, but back I came to do as much drugs as I could until I ODed.
All my friends tried telling me I have to let go. Bullshit! I will never let go. Move on I will. It has been two years since I — we — laid our son to rest.
There is no book on how to really deal with the loss of your children.
I think I’ll be OK. I met some new friends and became a volunteer at the Coalition on Homelessness. But I will never forget where I have been.
Michael Lyle