Tomorrow is the 2nd anniversary of the passing of my Dad (if that's something you actually commemorate with an "anniversary"). I wasn't going to write about it, since I don't see a lot of humor about that subject, and these blogs - for anyone that has ever read one of them - are mostly irreverent. There's a word Dad probably never used. Irreverent. Well, he would have used it, but he would have used it as "irrevelent"....which isn't even a word (but it is close), but Dad made up all kinds of words. One of the reasons I loved him. He also said "everythink"....and "acrosst". All the time. I never corrected him. Why bother? I knew what he meant.
So let's see where this one goes....
Mom was (and is) the musical one, but Dad listened to his share of music as well.
Here's one he liked. I like it too.
The photo at the top of my blogs is a picture of my Dad. If you didn't know better you'd think it was from one of those "Our Gang" or "Little Rascals" serials. It's not. That's the real McCoy.
This isn't.
I love that picture of Dad...what a character. I love seeing it at the top of the page when I write and read these horrific blogs of mine. It makes me feel that Dad is doing them with me, although he's not...and never would have. Remember, his command of the written word was not his strongest suit. Doesn't matter.
So, two years ago tomorrow. Christ. Really? Can it be? It can't. Without going into great detail of his death, the tragedy and the sorrow, let me just say this. It was as peaceful as it could have been. The whole family had been on a bedside vigil for about 24 hours, thinking each one of those hours could be his last...expecting one to be his last...almost hoping one to be his last. When the time finally came, we almost missed it. It just ended. No fanfare...no great last revelation...no epiphany from above. Just emptiness. Disbelief. Sorrow and relief. When it was over we almost felt like, "Now what?. What do we do now that Dad is gone?". Surreal.
I went home that afternoon...a little sleep deprived...sat in the corner of the living room in silence...and five minutes later, had this.
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Drowning above water
How does it feel to drown, but not underwater?
My Dad did it year after year.
How do you walk, talk, be a normal human being
When everything consumes you with fear?
Remember how you once stood tall and proud?
There was no place you could go
Without seeing someone you knew
With a smile a wink and a pat on the back you’d always say hello.
To me you were always a hero, Ted Williams, Bob Cousy,
Johnny Cash or John Wayne.
You were so proud and confident and strong
Before your days were filled with pain.
Then you became something more.
I saw you with all your flaws.
I saw you fail, and get knocked down
And then that gave me pause.
You didn’t need to be a hero
To be famous to me
Your biggest gift was showing me how to love
And not be afraid to let others see.
Your influence on me is enormous
I’ll always look up to you
I’ll never be as great as you were
But finally my dreams for you have come true.
So now there’s no more drowning
No more fear, no more shame
Now you’re flying in the breeze
No more fears - you won - you overcame.
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Maybe not my best, but Mom liked it...it made her feel good, and that made me feel good....and it just came. No rewrites, no editing, it just came. Maybe a little healing took place in those five minutes it took me to come up with that. Grief can't be explained, the time it takes to recover... no one really knows.
Enough with the maudlin. I'm going to swing by to visit my Dad tomorrow. Tell him about my youngest leading her basketball team in scoring...how she got elected to the 4th grade school council...how my oldest is now living on her own and doing so well with her career...and...well, you know? maybe he knows all that already. Maybe I'll just go and hang out for awhile.
I'll leave you with two things...
anyone that uses the word "titstick" the next time I see them will get either a handshake, a hug, or a kiss (whichever is most appropriate)...if you need a reminder on that one, here it is...
and, I've still got a boxful of ashes waiting to be scattered, anyone got a way for me to get to the pitchers mound of Fenway Park?
