Me Dad

"When your father dies," Peter Doliber told me after his father had died, "I'll be there to help you get through it." I remember that Peter was full of emotion at the time. His life was already going through major transitions so his father's timing couldn't have been worse. I was trying to show him love and help the best way I knew how. A couple of years later, my Dad died. He was actually pretty good about it. I was in St. Martin and he waited around until I got back. My understanding is that he'd been laying in bed and would likely be gone before I got there. Driving to the hospital directly from the airport, I walked inside his room and was surprised to see him sitting there fully dressed, staring at his hands, looking inside of another universe somewhere. My Mother and brother were also sitting there. "Hey Bub," Dad said when he saw me. "You look good." "Hey Dad, you don't look too bad yourself. I thought you were dead." He didn't respond but kept looking at his hands. A little bit later, exasperated Dad said loudly, "Mike! what do you think I should do?" I got up and sat in front of him. Placing my hand on his knee, I looked in his face but he was looking at the floor. "I dunno Dad. About what?" "I think I'm ready," he softly said to the floor. All of the air was sucked out of the room. "Hey Dad, if you're ready, that's cool." Turning, I looked at David, my brother, who came and sat in the chair that I'd been sitting in. David held Dad's hand. Dad kept looking at the floor. "If you're ready to be with Jesus Dad, he's ready for you." I heard Mom crying. Dad nodded his head but didn't say anything. Then things happened quickly. He moved to Hospice. We took turns spending the night. It was only three days later when he died. His last words were "It was beautiful." Father's Day is funny when you don't have your Dad around anymore. And in spite of what Peter had said, nobody can really do anything to help you with it. There are lots of good memories and I'm lucky enough to have been a son who split pitchers of beer with his Dad talking about ... everything. "You love everybody," Sarah said to me yesterday. I'm not sure about that. I've met my share of assholes. But I get my heart from my Dad. He mostly loved everybody and was forever trying to help a single mother who was a waitress, a gardener without health insurance or a niece who needed money. He was that way. He never preached but he practiced a lot. He also passed on a love of the ocean to me ... the sea, salt, smell of the marsh, sitting in the sun with as little on as possible, admiring girls in bikinis, and listening to good music. My first visit to Doc's Bar was with my Dad. So something's missing today. Having said that ... Dad would be the first to say, "Enjoy it son. It's beautiful!" Thanks Dad. I will.