It's an exquisite dance

 

"Dad, you're dying this year, right?"

Che's snuggled beside me, staring into her phone and the question comes out of nowhere. 

Sarah's eyes lock with mine and we're both questioning without words. 

"Yeah, probably so," I finally say, as casually as I can.

"Well," she grins, "I already have my dress picked out for the party."

Sarah eyes explode into laughter with mine. 

"There's not going to be a party," I laugh. "We've already had it.  Well, we're still enjoying it now, but there's no party later."

"OK," she happily says, resuming her focus on whatever she's doing on her phone.  

It's quite the transition going on in our house, more a sense of expectation of things that are coming, but we talk about it in real time, though we're easily distracted from delving deeper. 

One of my current claims to fame is, I'm often publicly recognized as William H. Macy, specifically the way he looked as Frank Gallagher in SHAMELESS.

I freely admit that William H. Massey is one handsome fella, and I LOVE Frank Gallagher, and enjoy these mistaken identities whenever they happen, which is a lot!

Chelsea, Sam, Lily and McKenzie are visiting and we meet at Auspicious Bakery Bread and Butter for brunch. 

"Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Frank Gallagher?" our waitress asks, pouring me water. 

Chelsea erupts in laughter.  

Sarah suggests we watch SHAMELESS again because we enjoyed it so much! 

(Frank's farewell in the series finale is my all time favorite ending of all time!).

That evening, after I've fallen asleep, Che asks about Frank, so Sarah pulls up the series finale and show's it to her. 

Frank's lying in a hospital bed with oxygen on. 

"That looks like my Dad when he was in the hospital!" 

"TURN IT OFF!" she exclaims, "TURN IT OFF!"

Che's not there yet.  

She sees it coming but she's not ready yet.  

There's certainly a sense of getting ready though.  

Maddie sends Sarah pictures of places to live in Florida, and we have discussions of what could be and it's hard to not think about all of the possibilities. 

It's nice to dream but hard not to think about the realities of life after I am gone. 

Che will need the stability of her friends and Sarah has a job that provides her with the flexibility needed with an 8 year old at home when she becomes a single parent.

It is an exquisite dance, dying and living in dreams and reality.

"I guess that's it," Frank happily says, drinking a beer, floating towards Heaven, "Not much left to say, really, except, time's precious. Don't waste it. Have a good time. I sure as hell did."

                                  ________

My Celebration of Life is done while Sarah and Che have a whole new life together, coming soon and I want to make it special. 

Please consider being part of their future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

The Best Life Saver Ever

 

There are times I feel as I'm dying. 

Up multiple times after I go to sleep because of prostate issues,  I give up and stumble into the shower.  

Hopefully I haven't waken Sarah with my groaning, moaning, sweating and snorting, though once I fell back in bed so hard, she bounced, woke in mid-air, hit the bed which caused me to bounce and, well, that wasn't a good night.

I want to die when things like this happen but, I don't know, now it makes me laugh. 

My worse moments are standing in front of the mirror and looking at what I look like.  

Naked. 

It's depressing. 

My shoulders and arms look like a Concentration Camp survivor, as do my legs.   

My belly is my best feature, proud and strutting, primarily because everything inside's been radically rearranged, reconnected and refined, and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

Turning, I see that I still have no butt.

It'd be nice to have that back.  

I'm crazy tanned from floating in the pool with Sarah and Che most everyday. 

Yes, I tan the cancer.  

The problem though is how much like leather my skin resembles, like that of an old tanned man.

I sigh. 

Turning off the bathroom light, I tiptoe through our bed room, tossing my underwear into the laundry basket in the dark as I do, before shutting the bedroom door so Sarah can sleep.  

It's 1:30 in the morning and, in a several hours, I'll learn I missed the laundry basket. 

I hit brew on the coffee pot, smoke a bowl outside, light a candle, find a video of a bonfire on a beach and get dressed. 

Sticking my earbuds in, I find the right tunes, hit play and off I go off on social media.  

Our Dalmatian, Lainey snuggles beside me on the sofa. 

For the rest of the night, this is what I do, until Sarah or Che get up, and every single time they do, I'm immediately grateful we get one more day together. 

Lately Sarah's getting up first because of the foster puppies, Tom and Jerry, that we're caring for right now.  

Che gets up when her Mom gets up. 

We have fun for as long as we can, but I peter out as the day proceeds. 

After breakfast, Lainey drags me for a walk, which we call exercise in our house, and if I don't do it, I'm convinced I will die. 

So I walk because, well, I'm not ready yet.  

As hard as it is sometimes, life is still so much fun, especially when you're spending it with the people you love the most. 

I'm trying to be realistic about all of it. 

Death is the price you pay for life. 

The trick is, for me anyway, cancer certainly exacerbates my dying, but it's up to me how much it robs from my living.

Well, and Sarah and Che too, because I certainly wouldn't be here were it not for them.  

Thank God I got Sarah pregnant late in my life, because has that not ended up being the best life saver ever or what?!

                         ********

My Celebration of Life is done while Sarah and Che have a whole new life together, coming soon and I want to make it special. 

Please consider being part of their future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

A Tiny Afterparty

 

I am so proud holding Che's hand, standing in line at the counter of the YMCA. 

Sarah's home, having a few minutes there alone, which never happens. 

Because the Y's right around the corner, and I'm feeling pretty good, I brought Che to the birthday party she's attending. 

We're fifth in line as the newly hired receptionist helps navigate people to where they want to go. 

We're just standing there.  

"I would like to register for the LIVE STRONG program," a woman announces, unleashing my curiosity, as I've twice graduated from the program designed to help cancer survivors maintain their physical and mental health.

The woman is finely dressed, not for the gym but perhaps for Church, or a luncheon in a private, exclusive club. 

The receptionist has no idea what's LIVE STRONG. 

"Maybe you can find it online," she hopefully offers.  

The woman retains perfect posture as she sighs and ponders.

I want to reach out, touch her arm, introduce myself and tell her about my experiences, which were great.

But I don't. 

There's simply not enough energy for me to muster up to do anything other than hold Che's hand waiting in line, give Sarah a few precious minutes and be proud of myself for doing so. 

It's been forever since I've been the responsible parent, and I'm relishing every second like it's the last chance I'm ever going to have.

"I'm sorry," the new receptionist tells her. 

The woman turns, mutters she'll do it another way, and walks right past me leaving.  

I could easily have touched her.

I could have reassured her, and given her a most enthusiastic and heartfelt recommendation for a program that literally helps extend life. 

But I have no more to give.  

I check us in, walk Che to the pool party suddenly exhausted, and in a hurry return home.

When I arrive, Sarah's on the sofa so I immediately join her, and we talk. 

The Celebration of Life is over now but the death hasn't occurred yet, and I am most grateful there is a tiny after party of almost exclusively, Sarah, Che and me.  

That's all we're capable of managing these days. 

Reaching out overwhelms me now and I can't help like I used to, which was second nature, but it's not who I am now. 

Yet I've never been more content, satisfied and happy as we enjoy ourselves as best we can until my death occurs.  

In the meantime, I'm most grateful that I had my Celebration of Life now rather than later. 

It's been Heavenly.  

Who wants to leave Heaven?

Not me.  

Not yet. 
                        ********
My Celebration is mostly done while Sarah and Che have a whole new life together, coming soon

You can be part of their future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

My Life Achievement Award

Standing behind the podium, I realize Sarah's let go of my hand, after walking me up the stairs to the stage, and I see her smiling and encouraging me to proceed. 

The plan is for her to stand beside me and when I fade, she'll give the speech she wrote. We planned it this way because the last time I gave one, I passed out and Sarah had to shove me out of the way to finish. 

Instead, she let go of my hand, is blowing me kisses and says, "Go on."

Unprepared and confused, I turn my head to see 300 people standing, clapping and smiling. 

Suddenly, for a moment anyway, I'm back home.  

Staring at the beauty of the crowd, I stand silently until they become silent, sit and wait. 

I watch Sarah return to the table with Che, and Terry Ball who drove from Atlanta when he got wind this was happening.  

They smile at me and I feel love. 

This all came out of nowhere. 

An old colleague calls, and when I don't return the calls, she frantically messages, demanding we talk. 

I'm not up for talking, so I message back.  

And Kathryn congratulates me on winning the "Lifetime Achievement Award", given by the Georgia Alliance to End Homelessness. 

Stunned silent, I have nothing to say in response, overwhelmed by emotions long buried and put to rest. 

I feel the crowd wait on me to speak. 

"It's been 15 years," I say to the gathering, "since I've professionally worked with homeless people, but it's been less than 24 hours since one of them got in touch with me, inviting me to meet his wife and he who are vacationing nearby. He's a successful Chef now."

It's a funny blessing, who I still hear from all those decades ago. Most were homeless.  Work relationships faded but, but so many others never seem to forget.

"I am humbled to have been chosen for such an honored and prestigious award," I say, thinking about Darren and Wilma, who just wrapped up that vacation and are now back at work.

"There is a lot of romance in homeless shelters," I continue. 

"If you hang around shelters, you know there are a lot of homeless hookups ..." and the assembly begins laughing because they obviously know. 

"Homeless hookups can happen anywhere and at anytime. On top of the Laundry Room washing machine.  Under dinning room tables.  On the Chapel floor."

Everyone laughs knowingly. 

"I had a homeless hookup," I laugh, pointing at Sarah. "We built Union Mission together, then she left for a decade, but came back and now it's true love and sometimes homeless hookups work out!"

Everyone laughingly applauds.

I'm a couple of sentences into my speech and feel myself wearing out, so I rush to finish. 

"And no one does anything alone in life," I say in conclusion, pointing to Terry, who is genuinely enjoying the moment, "and there would be no structured homeless help at all were it not for him."

We catch eyes, smile and share a joyful moment enjoying the moment. 

There are so many others to thank but I'm exhausted, so I thank everyone and stumble towards Sarah, when the photographer grabs me and I remember that I'd forgotten this part of these events. 

It takes forever snapping photographs. 

Back at the table, Che crawls in my lap. Kathryn smiles, happy with how things went. Sarah and Terry are whispering and laughing to themselves. 

"Kat, I gotta go," I say, blatantly playing the Cancer card, so we can leave early. 

"Of course," she says, lovingly squeezing my arm. 

We leave.  

It is surreal. 

I am incredibly thankful. 

Che got to dress up and, for a second, catch a glimpse of the Daddy she's never known, and, for better and worse, she got to see it, touch it, taste it and feel it, a little anyway. 

I never dreamed she would.  

And Sarah and I got to celebrate it.

In spite of the good, the bad and the ugly of my career, our love was born in it, we thrive out of it and she's my perfect partner. 

"Want to get Leopoid's?" Terry happily grins, holding my plaque, because it's much too heavy for me to carry. 

We decline, collectively hug and happily say our goodbyes. 

It's silent while Sarah drives us home. 

"What did you think Che?" I ask our daughter.  

"Can we get McDonalds on the way home," she counters.

"Absolutely," Sarah laughs, because hotel banquet food has not improved at all since we frequented such affairs.  

                          ********

My Celebration of Life is winding down to the end while Sarah and Che have a whole new life together, coming soon

You can be part of their future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

What's Next?

 



"So what's your next big trip," my son asks?

"No," I reply in a very flat affect, "those days are over."

There's silence on the other end of the phone.  

"Maybe Sarah will work some more magic," I wistfully add, "who knows?"

The silence remains for a second before we move on to other topics, but the reality remains, those days are done.

I'm thankful beyond belief of everything we've done over 5 years of cancer! Colorado white water rafting, Che's 1st trip to Disney, riding donkeys in Mexico on Thanksgiving, are but a few examples of Sarah's determination that life remain joyful, loving and fun!

The following day, I am violently ill. 

I have a tendency not to remember such episodes so have no idea when the last time it's been this bad.  Surely it was when I was still on chemo. 

Sarah's immediately thrown into overload capacity but she somehow gracefully manages, from cleaning my puke to carting Che and a friend on a play date, while wondering which hospital I may need.  

Che is wary around me, keeping a watchful eye and at my side instantly if I call her, but otherwise staying away to give me space.  

She and Sarah hug a lot.

"Dear God," I plead, "just get me back to where I was.  You don't have to heal me."

Miraculously, yet again, I rally. 

The last week or so are a blur.  My birthday was lovely. Che and I swam every day.  Sarah plays catch-up. 

We're exhausted and talk openly about it. 

"Any disruption to the Bubble we live in takes days to recover from," she says. 

Agreeing, I nod but have nothing to add. 

"Dad's better Mom!" Che yells at Sarah who laughs while she busily tends the foster puppies.

For the moment, I am back to where I was.  

Thank God.

                             ***

My Celebration of Life is winding down to the end while Sarah and Che have a whole new life together, coming soon

Help them do it right without me at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Own a piece of the Rev

 

It's wonderful being able to reflect on,  enjoy and appreciate my Celebration of Life.

It really was wonderful and no one enjoyed it more than I did!

Not a lot of people can say that. 

Most are dead at their funeral or celebrations of life and never get to enjoy anything at all, but I'm going to continue enjoying the Hell out of mine, until I can't. 

But it's over and I have to get serious about dying again.

Hope for the best but plan for the worse, the old adage goes, but I'm living exclusively off hope now, so it's time to plan

Forever I've said I want to be buried at Sea, which is legal here, relatively easy to do, so long as you notify the agencies within 30 days of the disposal, but by then the fish would be fat off of me. 

Friends with boats have already offered to handle the logistics (thank you guys!) so everything is sort of set. 

Except, that's a lot to dump on Sarah and Che after I die.  They'd have to handle my body from the time I expire until my burial at Sea. I don't want to do that to them. 

So, I've resigned to being cremated, purely based on convenience to Sarah and Che, and cost. 

I'd resigned myself to this until Johnny O asked me if Sarah was going to scatter my ashes somewhere. 

"No, there won't be a service or anything.  She can put me in a baggie for all I care."

Johnny's face lights up like I haven't since the days we used to have lots of great ideas. 

"Picture this," he says, holding two hands up, to frame it.  

"For only $99.95, plus shipping and handling, you too can own a piece of the Rev! You'll receive a baggie of the Rev's ashes to do whatever you want with. You can even pass it on to future generations.  Order yours now! Get one before they sell out! Supplies are limited!"

"BRILLIANT!!!" I exclaim.  "That fits in perfect with my GoFundMe ( https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b ) campaign. What a great way to bring it to a close!"

Johnny leaves and I rush inside wanting to share everything with Sarah.

"You know," she adds on reflection, "we should offer 10% off for everybody who preorders."

"BRILLIANT!!!" I gleefully exclaim.

So I've got something to live for now in bringing this campaign to an end. 

This is going to be such fun.

As soon as we figure out which baggie size to use.

There is no disappointment I Dying.

 

"I love my life as much as I ever did and will cling on to it for as long as I can, but life without death has become as unthinkable to me as day without night or waking without sleep," wrote Frederick Buechner, long before he died.

I sympathize greatly with his struggle to accept death, almost welcome it, as a simple part of the journey of life.

Of course, my favorite author also said that "resurrection means the worst thing is never the last thing", and what's not to like about that if you're getting close to the end.  

The worst thing, dying, is not the last thing. 

He says the love of God is going to do something else, but what that's going to be is anybody's guess.

I find comfort in these thoughts, so long as they extend to everyone, regardless of their faith, ethnicity, education or if they believe in anything at all. 

Throughout my life I've believed in the teachings of Jesus. I tried to keep them as my guiding lights in the sometimes dark worlds I've lived through, and that has worked well for me. 

It's been messy as Hell, but it got me this far and I am thankful for that. 

The resurrection of Jesus wasn't really part of my faith system, a part of the story that I needed. 

How to live my life was more important to me than if it goes on somehow, into eternity. 

And that's precisely where I am now as I prepare myself as best I can for the "worst thing."

It doesn't matter to me if there's anything else.

What a life I've had, far more epic Greek Comedy Tragedy than mere boring biography.

I did a lot but ended up madly in love, happily raising our love child, with friends who support our crazy ways to squeeze every ounce of life out of the time I have left. 

As funny as it seems, I am living my best life with multiple cancers, a frail and failing body, and a mind that isn't as sharp as it used to be.  

Sarah and Che keep me inside their protective cocoon of love. 

I say that's ending my life on top of the world. 

As for what's next?

I don't see how anyone can be disappointed when they die.  

You're deader than a doornail when you're buried or burned, and that's that, just dark silence. 

There's nothing. 

Or something happens. 

Either way, I won't be disappointed.

                      ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

My Celebration is winding down to the end while Sarah and Che have a whole new life together, coming soon

You can be part of their future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b

Dancing in the sunshine

 

On Father's Day, Sarah and Che presented me with Banana Tree shrubs because I love them.  

"You have to stay alive until they bloom Dad," Che smiles.  

"It takes a year to a year-and-a-half to bloom," Sarah smiles.

I erupt in laughter at the preposterousness of the idea, and end up smiling with them. 

Since then, the shrubs have sat on a window sill, just out of direct sunlight, per the instructions. 

Today, I planted them, two in the ground and two in pots. 

They still make me smile. 

It is an unclouded day now but they're calling for thunderstorms soon. 

It sounds like a Biblical prophesy aimed just at me.  

For the moment though, our banana trees are firmly taking root, baptized in water I shower them with and dancing in the bright, hot sunshine.  

And for these moments, so am I, still smiling because of the love that surrounds me.  

                       ☀️☀️☀️

My Celebration is winding down to the end,  while Sarah and Che have a whole new beginning coming soon. 

Be a part of their moving and future at https://gofund.me/ffda4f4b