The Aftermath Of The Storm

It’s almost a month since my father died and now I wander through the aftermath of the storm picking up the pieces.

Sometimes I feel like I am wandering on a sandy beach picking up pieces of driftwood, marveling at the majesty of nature.

One moment the storm is mighty and terrible and then it is gone and you can’t imagine a nicer, warmer and more inviting place to be.

And then there are those other moments where the sea rages and I fight to keep the waves from tossing our ship against the rocks.

Love hard and live hard.

It is how I roll.

The Aftermath Of The Storm

I started this blog in May of 2004.

Dad was on life support and the docs said he was done, but Steiner the Elder challenged Death to a bare-knuckles brawl and Death was dumb enough to accept.

Dad beat him.

He kicked his bony ass up and down the street and embarrassed him so badly that it took Death a decade to try to come back.

That sneaky bastard made an effort to slip in through the back door and we’ll give him credit because he did all he could to weaken dad.

And so we reached the place 14 years later where Death felt comfortable coming back and they went at it again.

When I got the call they told me dad wouldn’t make it through the night, so I did what I had done before.

I booked the first flight I could catch and drove like Batman chasing the Joker to the hospital.

Dad was still conscious, still fighting but in more pain and distress than I had ever seen before.

He made it five full nights beyond the doctor’s prediction.

Intellectually it all makes sense and I understand exactly what happened. My father had a pretty damn good life.

We had lots of time to talk about all that was going on and we said most of what had to be said.

I say most because you never really feel like you got enough time. I expected it but the truth i I am surprised at how much harder this is.

Surprised that as an almost middle-aged man there have been moments that reminded me of being a 10-year-old boy who just wanted to play catch with his dad.

The silence is deafening and though I accept it I will never like it.

One day at a time is the new mantra.

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4 Comments

  1. Mitch Mitchell August 26, 2018 at 10:50 am

    Sorry to hear about your dad. You’re right, there never seems to be enough time; I certainly felt the same way. Still, he put up a great fight and outlasted the “experts”; if he were Klingon I’d say there will be songs sung. Peace to you and your family.

  2. Larry August 17, 2018 at 12:08 pm

    Emotions come and go. The waves of sadness pass and return. As time passes, the distance between waves will grow longer. At least, that way my experience.

    I think you’re right about never feeling like you had enough time.

    P.S. What you mean almost middle aged?

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