I lost my dad today. I thought that would be hard to write but it wasn’t, actually. I don’t write many things of actual import on this blog because I’m not that kind of dude (serious one) but this is a big thing. Although his death was not unexpected, it still sucks.”Life is a death sentence.”
I was in the room when he passed on early in the morning.
Which is weird but hey, life right? My sister’s kids were born like one wing over in the same hospital. Life and death. I’m glad it was me there and not my mom, my sister, or my brother. I’m not sure if that’s selfish or not. It doesn’t matter. I’m glad everyone was able to come out and see him while he was in the hospital.
Two stories about him which aren’t major but they’re the two I immediately thought of with him.
First story- growing up, before class, we’d sometimes kick the soccer ball out in the front yard before I walked to school. I could never kick it past him. He’d be smoking and looking cool as shit and we’d just kicked the ball back and forth for a few minutes before school.
Second story- in elementary school they used to have popcorn on, I think, Fridays and it cost a quarter. Well, he gave me two dimes and nickel and my dumb ass was like “no they won’t take it” and after a few minutes of digging around, he found a quarter. I never asked him about it later but I imagine this going on in his head. “I emigrated from Laos and this is the shit I have to deal with? It’s the same amount of money you little bitch.” I never did get that popcorn that day either. Damn it.
Hell, maybe those are major stories in my life.
He was supposed to be 76 in a few weeks and that’s the shit I remember.
I don’t want to end up like him, in a nursing home and unable to move about freely. But I’d definitely want to die like him, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones.
It’s weird to write about my dad but writing about him helped. Thanks for reading if you did, thanks to those who’ve reached out, and sorry I didn’t take any calls but maybe later. Life moves on and I will try to be better at living what’s left of my life.
Tawn said, I remember him with his cigarette looking “cool as shit too”. 🙂
This was beautifully written, my old friend Stonewall neighbor. My condolences, to you and your family. May you find peace in knowing that he IS in a better place, and he IS freely moving on his own now. RIP.
In reply to Tawn, Bee said, Thanks Tawn!
Jonathan said, Thanks for sharing. I work in a hospital and I meet so many people, who like you, are saying good bye to a loved one. My jouhhts and prayers are with you that you find peace in this troubling time.
In reply to Jonathan, Bee said, I appreciate it! Hospital workers… care givers! have a whole new meaning to me.
Daniel Garcia said, “I don’t want to end up like him, in a nursing home and unable to move about freely. But I’d definitely want to die like him, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones.”
Beautifully written, sorry for your loss Bee.
In reply to Daniel Garcia, Bee said, thank you Daniel!
Tom said, Great post, Bee. I think the seemingly insignificant memories that stick with us about our parents are often the most powerful. I’m glad you were with your dad at the end – I hope to be as fortunate. Wishing you all the best, my friend.
Bee said, Thank you Tom. I’m thinking you’re onto something there! You just said it best…and in like 300 words less than I used.