Three, Three, Three

“What’s next, Zach?” Dad called from behind the crudely built blinds.

“A two-by-two red brick. That one goes on the top, just four studs away from those pink plates,” I returned.

“Roger, Roger!” Dad chimed over the sounds of him picking through the pile of Legos in front of him.

From across the room, a man suddenly yelled, “Finished!”.

In that instance, I deflated in my chair from disappointment. Dad pulled back the curtain, which was rigged up precariously with PVC pipe and prayers. “Not too bad!” he said, a smile pushing up his cheeks. “We were faster that time around. We’ll get them next time!”

I dragged a sigh. “I’m no good at reading the instructions, and I’m not as fast as you at building.”

“Eh, both of them take practice!” Dad assured. “Plus, I never liked this game anyway. Going fast takes away all the fun.”

I scooped my phone from the table and threw it with the instruction booklet into my drawstring bag. Dad had collected the extra Lego pieces and what he had built so far then carefully placed it all inside his backpack. “Yeah, I guess so,” I trailed off as we both rose from the cheap folding table to begin towards the elevators. “So, what’s next on the schedule?”

“Hm, let me see.” Dad dug his phone out of his pocket to see our plans for the remainder of the day. “Looks like we have a break for lunch. Before we leave, we should check on the MOCs though.” After an elevator ride to the main floor amongst the crowd of other VIPs, Dad and I set course for the large convention area. The two of us broke from the crowd as we began toward the set of tables where Dad’s MOCs sat. MOC, meaning “My Own Creation”, is the phrase coined for the layouts of eye candy that the brick builders have curated. Conventions like this were made in order to show off these MOCs. Every single one has a different story to tell.

“Alright.” I broke the silence during our stride. “So, lunch! Is it our Chinese day today?”

Dad was slightly distracted looking at the numerous MOC creations. His eyes sparkle as he studied every different idea that somebody came up with. He snapped back to our conversation and replied, “You know? I think it may be!” He chuckled, his shoulders bouncing.

“Nice!” The two of us navigated the waves of people who came to see the massive Lego convention fittingly named BrickSlopes. The growl of my stomach was noticeable even over the deafening noise of the crowds. “I’m starving!”

‘Chinese day’ was big for Dad and me and a tradition that dates to when I was very little. Dad and I would always find a Chinese restaurant to eat at during every single convention. We would get so lucky, in fact, that some places became a “must visit” every year. Both Dad and I loved Chinese cuisine.

As far as these conventions go, I knew this scene well. Building Legos was one of, if not Dad’s favorite hobby. That hobby guided him to help found a state-wide club of like-minded Lego builders. Together, they conjured a mass of creative innovation, building anything from stunning landscapes to breathtaking structures. Some referred to scenes from movies or books, others were created from the mind of the maker themselves. Imagination built these MOCs, and Dad was a veteran.

The club was also invited to many events such as county fairs, birthday parties, even my own elementary school. I was especially ecstatic when I got to show off my dad’s creativity. Dad, of course, had a handful of MOCs he would always display, just as he did at my school and at any show, including BrickSlopes. Dad and the club cooked up both the name and the show a couple years ago, they have been hosting BrickSlopes yearly ever since. Dad and I have never missed one since the start.

Dad had other hobbies that bled into his visions for more Lego MOCs, such as trains. My grandfather has an interesting passion for locomotives. Though he is blind, he found other ways to enjoy the world’s wonder such as hearing the pistons work to forward a steam engine or smelling the burning coal straight from the stoker. Grandpa’s love of everything locomotive was shared with Dad as they chased different trains that had come from all over. I joined them in their engine hunts every now and again, though most of my invites were shot down from either school or Mom, or both. I do cherish the time where Grandpa, Dad, and I sat atop a bridge waiting for a steam engine, named Big Boy, to pass underneath us. When Big Boy finally showed his steam punk like engine to us, we had also received a husky amount of smoke which engulfed us all.

As Dad loved the machines that traversed the tracks, he also had an eye for the vehicles that soared through the clouds. A true hearted aviation geek. I can recall many memories of Dad either fawning over the aviation scenes in movies, or completely despising them. Simply because they “Used too modern of a plane”, or “Utilized a maneuver that just isn’t possible”. That never stopped Dad from naming the exact make and model of aircraft just by the sight and sound. Dad was also a big fan of helicopters, hearing the rumbling chirp of the rotor from these machines could make him run faster then I have ever seen. I will admit, it was always cool to see a chinook pass over our home at times.

When we arrived to Dad’s MOCs, I stood nearby as he carefully eyed his creations, looking for anything that could have been pushed out of place or, worse, stolen. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to grab at the fun-looking Legos but usually Dad and I would be there to stop any little thieves. At Brick Slopes, however, our day was most likely spent in a VIP room playing Lego themed mini games.

“All good!” Dad said while giving his thumbs up approval. “Let’s get going, I am so hungry that I could literally eat a horse!”

Him and I stepped away from the tables of his MOCs and began towards the doors. "Me too, what time is it?”

Dad checked his watch, “Three thirty-one.”

“Jeez, no wonder that we’re hungry!” After a second, I perked up, “Hey! Double threes!”

Dad chuckled, “Yeah, of course it’s three! Only two minutes off the big three three three, though.”

“Psh, just wait a little and check again.” I took one last glance behind me at the MOCs, hopefully they’d stay safe as we ate.

Dad’s most prized MOCs consisted of mostly train yard-themed scenes, with a few aviation hints here and there. With just the use of tiny plastic bricks, he teleported his audience straight into a typical industrial railroad facility. All I could do was build some crudely shaped blobs that kind of looked like a spaceship. When this convention was held in the past years, Dad won several awards praising his MOCs. I had some MOCs too, though they were small and humble, shadowed by the titan MOCs that Dad battled against in popularity every year. Every year my MOCs went completely unrecognized, which I didn’t care much about but Dad especially despised. He would always vent saying things such as, “Just because the MOC is big, doesn’t make it the best on the floor!” I agreed with that, but I simply couldn’t compete with the people who had more time and more bricks on their hands.

That didn’t stop me from traveling out of town with Dad to different events though. We visited numerous locations in and out of state. A frequent one that the two of us loved was a model train show held in Idaho falls, and every year Dad was invited back again to show off his Lego trains. Those times, without the club, just Dad and me. During our stay, we would stroll the path along the falls and feed geese as we passed. It was always fun to see the kids marvel at Dad’s creations, just as I did when I was their age. When I grew though, I marveled at Dad’s stamina to do these things.

Long before I and my two elder sisters were born, Dad was involved in a motorcycle accident that claimed a large portion of his left foot. While I was growing up, I couldn’t understand the surprise and further curiosity my friends showed me from telling them that my dad didn’t have a left foot and had to wear a prosthetic. For me it was normal. It was Dad. Dad also suffered from a severe kidney function loss, which eventually forced him to need dialysis every other day. However, through it all Dad never once missed the chance to teach me how to fly a kite. Or how to swim, even if it was only how to doggie paddle. He taught me how to throw a football, though he purposely left tackling out of the lesson. Overall, Dad greatly showed me how to be creative with whatever hand that life deals to you. I cherished that.

I ended up going with Dad to most of the shows, but my attendance started to slow when I was in high school, though I made time for the important Idaho and Brickslopes visits. In return, Dad always made the time to come and see my hobbies from school. Theatre was one of the most important to me. I performed in several stage plays and musicals during high school and Mom and Dad came to every single one. I had a small concern in the back of my mind that Dad might rather see me on the football team. That thought faded, though, when Dad simply brought the hype you would hear on the bleachers watching a game, to the auditorium when I took my final bow. Final, because I was graduating.

As I nervously sat amongst the massive class of 2021, I squinted to pick out my family from the titanic crowd of other families. I eventually found them, only because Dad sat taller than the people around him, he also had broader shoulders that made him easier to stand out. That day Dad bear hugged me almost to death, his son was officially a graduate.

Past the time of graduation, I had planned to move out. Now also being an “official adult”, I wanted most to pursue my own vision and dreams. While I loved to write fiction, I also wrote scripts for short film that I both acted in and helped direct. These films were submitted to a small yearly film competition at our local library. Every film I made, I asked Dad to watch and give critique before submission. Though, I was falling behind in my practice of writing or film when my moving out date had grown nearer. Mom and Dad also planned on moving. They wanted a place smaller than the one they had now. After me, all their birds would have left their nest.

One night, I was staying up late to finish packing. I was truly nocturnal, a trait that I inherited from Dad. I grew bored and parched so I went downstairs where Dad was awake as well. He had been packing too, but was now taking a break on the couch, using his tablet. As I started towards the fridge, I heard my voice from behind me. I turned in confusion and recognized what my disembodied voice was saying, Dad had been watching my short films on his tablet. I resumed towards the fridge while Dad snickered at the jokes that I now found embarrassing. I wrote those puns when I was younger and less aware of my humor, which I also inherited from Dad. Though, I couldn’t help but smile over a grimace of embarrassment, my dad was laughing at something that I worked so hard to create. Cringe inducing or not, that was big for me.

“Hey, Zach!” Dad called from the couch.

Grabbing a soda can from the fridge I responded with, “Yeah?”.

In between chuckles he asked, “When are you going to make more of these?”.

The question took me by surprise. I had been thinking about that exact question since graduation. At this point my options were either to go to college or work full time to cover my rent and bills. Neither plan seemed to allow time for writing or filmmaking.

“Well,” I began as I claimed a seat on the couch next to Dad, cracking open the can, “I’m going to be moving away from my crew, so it will be harder to film really anything, especially with all of our different schedules and stuff.”

Dad shot me a look that totally said, “And?” He even added extra sass by raising an eyebrow.

“It’s weird,” I responded to his look. “Some of them are off to college but Dave and I just want to work and live life. All of that doesn’t really guarantee that any of us could find time. I mean, I would like to, but…” I trailed off, sadly sipping from my soda.

Dad let out a sigh. “Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day. But if you don’t start somewhere, Rome won’t be built at all.”

My eyes widened, I never expected “funny guy” Dad to say anything like that.

“Welp!” Dad chimed again. “I’m going to bed! Don’t stay up too late, you’ll need your energy for the coming week!”

Dad started to waddle off towards the stairway, leaving me with my thoughts. After a quiet moment I called after him, “Yeah, ‘night Dad.”

My team and I had aged out of the simple local library film competition, so I wondered if we’d still have same motivation to keep moving forward. Would we have the time? The money? The support? We had posted all our films online, could we make an actual career out of this? Would people like our work? Dad likes my work. I pondered over my soda.

When I glanced up, I saw that it was already 3:00 in the morning. Three, being Dad’s most lucky number. Though, it was technically 333, because of a funny story that happened while Dad was younger. A story that remained to be shared throughout the family as time only went on. Of course, it’s three. I thought as I finished the soda, turned off the lights, and began back upstairs.

I moved out and found myself a boring nine to five job that paid the bills, just as planned. Not as I originally planned however, I made the time to talk with the crew of my film studio in order to make plans for future projects. We even started scripting, which was only the first battle, but I was prepared to move forward.

Having been away from Dad most of my days, I wouldn’t waste any time to show him what I had been up to during the times Mom and Dad visited. Sometimes I would share the plans I made with my film studio, other times I would be showing him my cool new lightsaber that I bought to which he shared my nerdy excitement. I also saw him during family board game nights, were the two of us would tag team on being the comedic relief. Just as we always were, at home, school, or at the Lego conventions.

Time passed and Dad’s health declined gradually. Though he was on the cusp of receiving a healthy kidney from his sister-in-law, I and the rest of his family could tell that something was wrong. My darkest fears were realized when Mom called me at work and urged me to come over right away. My sister worked at the same company as me so together we rushed to their home and found Dad just sitting on the couch. He couldn’t stand, and it was hard for him to even lift his arms. On her own, Mom couldn’t do much. I learned quickly that we couldn’t do much either. Dad was lethargic and was not completely with us. We planned to place him in a rolling chair in order to roll him to the car where he could be taken to the hospital. I put his arm around my shoulder and tried lifting him myself, then all three of us tried to lift him, both times he refused to budge. This wasn’t normal at all. In a panic Mom called the authorities to have paramedics safely take Dad to the emergency room.

Dad’s stay in the hospital was short. Just five days later, very early in the morning, the hospital called Mom. Dad had gone into shock and was not able to be resuscitated. In a mass hysteria, we all rushed to the hospital. He was gone.

We never got the chance to say goodbye.

In the days passed, my heart felt empty like a void of complete nothingness. I had no brothers, so Dad was all I had throughout my childhood. I thought of how I couldn’t make amazing Lego MOCs, but he could. How I couldn’t be the “funny guy” alone, but he could. I would never be able to show him another film, nor hear his laugh and see his shoulders shake. When he was with me my path seemed clear, and he was just here.

I asked Mom if I could speak at the funeral and help carry him to his final resting place. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.

During my talk, I told of the memories built on tiny plastic bricks. I talked of the times of hardship, and the times of happiness. I spoke of the moments that I held dear in my heart, like the life-threatening bear hug that I got at graduation. Or the cheers that still echo in my mind from Dad during my final bow. There were so many stories to tell; from the times Dad and I went on camping trips together for the boy scouts. Or the times Dad would simply surprise me with a snow cone on the hot summer days. I had too much to say, and not enough time to say it. The multitude of tales together was impossible to condense, even now I hope and pray that I shared everything important. Important to me, to my family and to his friends.

When we arrived at the cemetery it was sunny. The clouds were beautifully floating across the sky. Not the scene I would imagine for a time filled with such sadness. My gaze captured the sky until it was time to escort Dad. Dad had cared for me and the family all my life. It was only fair in my mind to help carry him in the end, and to be by his side one last time. Where he was laid to rest, a train station sat nearby. As the bishop spoke his final remarks, I noticed the train leaving the station.

I knew in my heart that it was Dad’s time to depart on a different train that would take him, his creativity, and his humor, to a different horizon. One where he could sprint through the plains with a complete left foot, one where he could crack jokes to the multitudes of others in needing of hearing them. Someday I would have to take that train too. However, Dad would be at that distant station awaiting my arrival. Maybe then, he could teach me how to build the proper Lego MOC.

As the grounds and plants were full of nourishment from the tears of the people at the funeral, the mass prepared to return to the church once more. I eyed the clouds a final time and saw what looked to be three Boeing 747 aircrafts, all traveling to their respective destinations.

Of course, it’s three. I thought, wiping the tears on my suit coat.