End of the Line

I come from a long line of philanderers.
My grandfather strutted proudly
Made a game of wife stealing
Grannie made no secret of it,
even to children
"He'd go catten around at them ol honky tonks chasin after every split tail in the place".
"That man 'ud lay up with a snake if somebody'd hold its head."
Often taking off on cross country trips
with the love drunk housewives.
His favorite tactic
was leaving the smitten arm candy
in gas station bathrooms
the minute they crossed into
Oklahoma or Arkansas or New Mexico.
He seemed to only desire them in Texas.
The humiliated women,
often with children at home
and always a husband
were forced to beg a dime
for the pay phone to call their jilted cowboy
and plead to be allowed back home.

Then there's my father.
He felt he had found the magic formula
for keeping everyone happy.
No leaving the wife and children,
no tempting the wives of others,
no secrets.
Everything out in the open.
A series of lonely cafe waitresses.
Single. Hardscrabble.
Easily impressed by dinner in a restaurant
any nicer than the one on their paycheck.
Mom knew everything.
Even made friends with a few.
Dad, a poly hinge before it entered the lexicon.
Sure it was non consensual poly.
Mom was miserable,
but she kept a roof
and a handsome man
and we didn't go hungry.

Now, everyone is dead.
Brother went first.
Then dad.
Then mom
(which broke me)
Orphan seems a quaint term
describing a child,
not a woman of 5 decades.
Still something about sole survivor...
End of the line...

I have a subscription to Ancestry.com DNA.
I will avoid your pitying look
and raise my eyes
when you think better of it.
Do I log on and desperately search
for anyone...
Anyone closer than a second cousin?
Yes. Every week.
Every single week.
After all, how could my father
find all the soft beds in Texas
and still avoid planting a seed?