"It's a decent age," I remarked. "Many don't make it that far."
"Yeah. Well, he was my only parent growing up. My mom died in a car accident when I was two, so I don't remember her at all."
"And he never remarried?" I asked.
"No, never. Stayed single for the rest of his life. He truly loved my mother; said no other woman could possibly take her place."
"He sounds like a really great guy," I remarked.
"Believe me, he was. And all this 70’s and 80’s rock and metal stuff, that was totally his thing. I grew up with that music playing in the house all the time."
I chuckled. "There are definitely worse soundtracks to grow up with."
She laughed, and it was good to see a smile on her face.
"There sure are. You know, he was an exceptionally talented guitarist."
"Was he, huh?"
"Oh, he was, believe me. We had a room in the house that was his, well I guess these days they'd call it a 'man cave.' But yeah, he had this big Marshall stack amplifier in there, a Gibson Les Paul, and a huge rack of effects pedals. He would sometimes sit in there for hours on end, just playing. And he could play all of the well-known guitar solos note for note, seriously."
"Wow. I was gonna say that I can play a little, but that's just strumming chords. It'd take me years to learn to play even a simple solo. Did he play in a band?"
"He did when he was young, but after my mom died and he had to take care of me by himself, he just didn't have the time for it anymore."
"You know, I was raised by a single parent too," I said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, except in my case, it was by my mom."
"And did you have any siblings?" she asked.
"A younger brother and a younger sister. You?"
"No, I'm an only child. So, what happened to your dad, if you don't mind me asking?"
I felt a ripple of darkness rush through me as I thought about him.
"He was a deadbeat. A drunk. He used to beat my mom up a lot. He would get wasted and disappear for days. One day, when I was eight, he got really trashed and, as he always did, he got in his car and drove off. And that was the last we ever saw of him."
I watched a veil of shock consume her beautiful face.
"Oh, my... That's awful," she remarked and hugged me tightly. "It must have been difficult for you."
"To be honest, it was a relief for us kids. He used to smack us around, too, and with him gone, there was no more screaming and fighting and breaking things. His leaving hit my mother hard, though; for all his abuse, I think she really loved the guy. She fell into a bit of a funk after he left, and as young as I was, I had to step up and be the man of the house. I had to grow up quickly; I was taking care of my mother and my younger siblings. I got my first job when I was nine – mowing neighbor's lawns and washing their cars after school. It also motivated me to work really hard in school, because somehow, even at such a young age, I knew I would need to get good grades to get into a decent career, in case I would need to just go on supporting my mom indefinitely. I've been working hard since then."
"Well, motivated a very admirable trait."
I smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
"And how's your mom now?"
"Oh, she recovered after a few years, so I did get to have a somewhat normal high school life. But I was already set in my ways by then. She met a much nicer guy and eventually remarried. But I had already gone off to college by the time that happened."
I considered telling her about my career in the Navy right after finishing college – but I decided to save that for another time.
"Well, I'm happy to hear that things worked out in the end," she said.