Jack’s Dad is buried under ice and snow.

Jack Tait decided it was time to go and see his Dad.  His Dad had passed away many years earlier from loneliness.  Loneliness is hereditary and so Jack has the same disease.  He has been very upset about getting this from his Dad and as a result he has never gone to his grave to pay him respect.  Jack Tait is a lonely man.  Jack Tait is an angry man.  Jack Tait is a sad man.
  Jack set out on his tricycle in the early morning on February 17th.  His hair was not combed.  His teeth were not brushed.  They never are.  Jack Tait doesn’t work.  He also doesn’t fuck.  He sometimes throws beer bottles at the tv.  But only when he is drunk and only when his favourite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs, are losing.  They lose a lot.  He’s drunk a lot.
  Jack rode through the snow filled streets of dirty Toronto.  It was busy.  cars.  bums.  rats.  dogs.  Jack did his best to avoid people and avoid things.  Jack struggled through the snow.  Jack didn’t drive.  His best friend, Rob, had died years earlier in a horrific car crash and Jack never recovered.  So Jack continued.  His struggles continued.  He needed to get to Thornhill before it became dark.  Jack pedalled as fast as he could.  Jack is not in good shape.  He only has one testicle and one ear.  Jack continued.  Jack is a fighter.  Not a lover.  Jack eventually got to Holy Cross Cemetary in Thornill and entered the cemetary.  He cried as he entered.  Jack Tait missed his Dad.  Jack Tait also missed his youth.  Jack Tait is sixty years old and beaten down.  He looks seventy years old and can only dream of fucking hot twenty-one year old girls.  His life has been filled with shame.  He only has one nut.
  Jack entered on his tricycle and saw a sea of white snow.  he didn’t have a clue as to where to look.  he knows that he should have visited before but he just couldn’t.  Jack Tait was mad at his Dad.  Jack prayed to the lord above but the lord above knew Jack was bullshitting so he didn’t answer his prayers.  Jack was stuck.  what to do?  what to do?  what to do?  Jack decided to go into the office of the cemetary.  Jack rode back to the office on his tricycle and parked it on the side of the red building.  he got off of his bike and walked up the stairs and through the front doors.  the doors reminded him of a courthouse he once visited while up on charges of assault and obstruction of justice.  Jack did not beat the charges.  Jack walked through the doors and approached the counter.  A handsome young Italian boy was standing there.  “Can I help you?”  he asked.
  “Would you please be able to tell me what lot my Dad is buried in?”
  “Sure.  What is his name?”
  “John.  John Tait.”
  The handsome boy looked in his file cabinet and came back.
  “Your Dad is buried in lot 22. section 23.  row 9.”
  “Thank you…also by any chance would you have a shovel I could borrow?”
  “No I am sorry.  We don’t have a shovel here.  Trucks plough the roads but not the lots.”
  “Okay.  No problem.  Thanks anyway.”
  Jack Tait left the office and jumped back on his tricycle.  he rode down to lot 22 and began sweeping away the snow with his boots.  he was sweeping and sweeping.  the sun was shining.  there was only one other person in the cemetary.  people are so selfish.  people are so phony.  Jack continued to sweep.  he wanted to give up.  he also wanted to stay.  he was torn.  he is always torn.  Jack struggled for about an hour when he finally found something.  Jack Tait was sweating.  Jack noticed something under the snow.  he started brushing harder and harder.  it was definitely a gravestone.  he started chipping away at the gravestone with his house keys.  his apartment was dirty and empty.  he chipped and chipped.  ice pieces flying everywhere.  he finally got through after ten minutes of digging and chipping but the name read Jane Swanson.  Not John Tait.  Jack was discouraged but he would not give up.  he continued to sweep.  he continued to chip.  Jack was hot.  He had a few more false alarms and was ready to give up when he saw something under the snow as he was walking away.  he began lightly chipping not thinking that it could be his Dad.  his chipping became more intense.   more angry.  he chipped.  and chipped.  and chipped and then breatkthrough.  he saw a grave.  he started humming I WILL WAIT by Mumford and Sons as he chipped.  it gave him strength.  it gave him courage.  Jack Tait was afraid of everything.  especially his own shadow.  Jack continued to chip.  He then noticed a J.  then an O.  the chipping continued.  H.  N.  T.  A.  I.  T.  Jack Tait had done it.  he found his Dad.  he started bawling.  he cried.  and cried.  and cried.  he couldn’t stop.  Jack Tait hated his Dad for giving him the disease of loneliness but he couldn’t stop crying for his Dad.  he wondered if his Dad could hear him on top of him.  he knew he couldn’t but he still wondered anyway.  Jack looked over at his tricycle and no one had stolen it.  Jack sat still.  crying had now stopped. he was cold.  alone.  sad.  he wished his Dad was still alive.  he never got to say “good-bye” to him.  he wished things were different.  he wished that things could start all over again and he would never take his Dad for granted.  he would obey his Dad and listen to his Dad and hug his Dad and go on trips with his Dad and watch hockey games with his Dad and go on vacations with his Dad and get spanked by his Dad and get advice from his Dad and go to parties with his Dad and have lunch with his Dad.  Jack Tait started crying again.  sobbing.  weeping.  tears flowing down his wrinkled face.  this time the tears didn’t stop.  Jack Tait was now lying on the grave and he was yelling, “WHY?  WHY?  WHY?  WHY?  WHY?  DAD I MISS YOU SOOOOOOOO MUCH AND I WISH I COULD SEE YOU ONE LAST TIME!!!” 
  The sky turned black.  the winds picked up and it started snowing again.  Jack Tait was still lying on his Dad’s grave.  he was cold.  his tricycle was cold too.  “Life is too short,”  Jack mumbled to himself.  he scratched his one nut and fell asleep.