My Weblog

January 22, 2012 - 10:45

I took this photo a half an hour after I saw my father alive for the last time.

The date and time was: January 22, 2012 - 10:45.

I was just going home quickly and set to return to San Diego 2 days later.

Unfortunately time cruelly intervened with my ill-planned intentions...

He passed away the next day.

Looking back I sure wish I'd have hugged him a little harder; a little longer.

And instead of the single kiss I gave him on his forehead -

I wish I'd have covered his sweet face with them.

And instead of boarding that train I wish I'd have paid head to my instincts...

And just stayed with him.

They Let My Dad In

On Tuesday, the night after my father passed, the heavens were painted with a gloriously vivid sunset. So much so it stopped me in my tracks. These types of scenes can really take ones breath away.

I took a photo of it and posted it on Facebook with the following caption:

This is the sunset right now. If I were religious I'd say that they let my dad in - with great fanfare. As it should be.

After giving the photo a little more of a ponder I decided that it might actually have been the moment that my father was reunited with my little sister.

You see, next month marks the 8th year of her passing from breast cancer and the skies the other night were lit up in the Susan G. Komen for the Cure colors - shades of breast cancer awareness pink.

I know my father was eager to see her again. And maybe, just maybe, the power of their embrace and the warmth it generated sparked the heavens to blaze.

No, not maybe. Certainly.

Goodbye, Pop

Yesterday in the late afternoon my father died.

Besides his unconditional love I got these five things from my dad:

1. My extreme punctuality. In fact, like him, I'm usually early.

2. My looks. In the photo above we are about the same age, 46.

3. My love of classic country music. Waylon, Willie, Merle, Dolly, Loretta, etc.

4. My sense of humor. He was quite the wit. I pale in comparison.

5. My stepmother Sandi. They were extremely lucky to have each other.

His passing is a stunningly numbing loss. My heart is broken.

But I'm confident my little sister greeted him with outstretched arms.

Goodbye, Pop.

But He Employed the Wrong Vowel

As I sit on the train heading toward San Diego to visit my father I have allowed my mind to wander through the years and smile at the many memories of us. Reflection in this manner is sweet. And sad. It's funny how sweet and sad sometimes hand hands as if intimates.

Anyway, I came across a particular memory I'd like to share with you today. Many of you already know this story but it's a very funny one and bears repeating - for my recent fans friends. It's short and you'll Chuck'le (again).

As a child my father had two nick names for me: Charlie and Butch. Yes, you read that correctly - Butch. I have no idea where that came from or how it started but he called for me using both equally.

About 15 years ago I was telling a coworker this story and when she heard the name Butch she twisted up her face and snarled in amusement, "Butch?"

I too laughed at the obvious ridiculousness, "Yea."

She continued, "Well, he got all the consonants right but he employed the wrong vowel."

We enjoyed a fairly lengthy laugh at her apt joke. Just as you will, once you think about it a second more...

'Holy' Something

Yesterday I had to stand before a judge in Beverly Hills on a ridiculous charge that was rightfully dropped. The court found it a waste of time. And I'm not going to bother to elaborate here but I will say that I'm thankful that I did not have to sit around all day waiting to be called as the public defender made sure I was up second confiding in me, "This is a complete waste of the court's time - let me get you out of here."

The first case was a young guy in court from a rehab center with a progress report for the judge. The rehab center had a name that suggested it may have had a religious angle, it was called Holy something, I can't recall the exact name - just the Holy part.

The judge asked the defendant, "Just for future reference I'd just like to know if this rehab center is religious. I wouldn't want to send someone who is not religious to a faith-based center."

His lawyer answered for him, "Your honor, we'd prefer not to answer that question as it may prejudice the court."

The judge responded, "That fine."

The lawyer continued, "I will add that I think it's 'holy' just because when you are admitted you walk in and look around and say 'holy crap.'"

The judge smiled and said, "While I recognize that that is a pretty funny joke," she took a pause for her own comic timing, "I'll remind you that the Comedy Store is up on Sunset."

***

About the photo: The Beverly Hills Fire Department is on the next block from the Court House and they have a memorial to 9-11. The twisted piece of metal is a beam from the World Trade Center and it's base is a Pentagon shaped flower bed with the greenery representing the fields of Shanksville. The lovely memorial is surrounded by welcoming benches for one to sit and reflect. Los Angeles is a big part of the 9-11 plot - remember, 3 of the 4 hijacked planes were LAX bound.

For Dad.

Yesterday my world was rocked. Jolted. Tilted. Slammed. Wrecked.

My stepmother Sandi called with news that my father was in the hospital.

It seems he had not been feeling well over the holidays.

They finally decided to go to the emergency room on New Years Eve.

Blood was drawn. Tests were performed. Breaths were held.

The end result was an unimaginable horror: stage 4 liver cancer.

Exhale.

My father is battling Alzheimer's and his memory fails him constantly.

I called him yesterday while he was in the hospital.

Me, timidly: Hey Pop, how are you feeling?

Pop, urgently: I got a clean bill of health. I want to go home now.

Me, lying: Hang in there, maybe you'll go home tomorrow.

Pop, demanding: No, I want to go home now.

He began calling for Sandi. But she was out of the room.

My father has always been impatient & it's worse when Sandi is not near.

Pop, frustrated: I need to find Sandi for you. She'll tell you.

With that my poor confused father hung up the phone...

For which I was thankful as it was getting very tough to keep it together.

I spent the next couple of hours lost in tremendous sorrow. And tears.

I sought out the comfort of friends. Theu were gracious with their time.

So cancer is determined to revisit and terrorize my family again huh?

Well, fuck you cancer. Fuck you hard. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Exhale.