My father passed away on Christmas morning and things just haven’t been the same. In my mind, loss and grief are two sides of the same coin. On the one side of the coin is loss. I know my dad is gone, but it’s not clear to me where he went. Don’t get me wrong, I was at his funeral and burial; but, for some odd reason, I believe he’ll come back eventually once he has everything sorted out on the other side. I was in Greece this past February and his jacket is still hanging on the hook in the house so he’s still around somewhere. Where? I don’t really know, but I’ll catch up to him eventually.
On the other side of the coin is grief. I don’t even know when the grief is going to come or if it’s actually already here? I don’t think I would notice grief because I’m still creating new scenarios and possibilities where/when I may see him again. Grief is more subjective and It’s hard for me to get my mind and arms around what it actually is. What do I need to do? Do I need to go cry in my car? To date, I’m not sad or happy. I’m just living this lie I keep telling myself, and I’m totally fine with that. In the absence of feeling any grief, I have been experiencing a general feeling of anxiety that I can’t shake. This is brought on by sometimes drinking a bit more than I should, living a more sedentary lifestyle these past few months, and becoming a bit jaded. I don’t start crying when I see a puppy or want to punch a hole in the wall in anger after watching the news and I’m not particularly motivated or driven like I used to be. I’m trying to navigate this new reality that my dad is gone and he’s not coming back. Helping care for my dad gave me the perfect excuse and cover to put things off for a later date and that later date is now here.
Last summer, I was traveling through Ireland when I received the call that my father was not well so I returned to the States on August 21. When they discharged him from the hospital into hospice care, I thought he only had a few more days to live and that would be it. At the time, I thought this would be best for everyone if he moved on. I was so wrong to think that. He made it through the week and was getting better with each passing week to the point where we could get him into a chair and outside for some fresh air and even to Gyros West to hang out with his buddies on a few occasions. He became more animated and his appetite grew and he regained some of his strength even though his kidneys were failing. With all that was going on, I just kept running and training for the Athens Marathon. The long runs helped to keep my head straight. It became clear to me then that the hospice care nurses and I were only there to help my mom, because she provided the care he needed. I believe this distinction is worth noting, because she did everything and I can’t describe what I saw. It was like watching a dog play a piano. Watching my mom care for my dad through the final months of his life made me understand what raw emotion it took for John Coltrane to record A Love Supreme.
By October, my dad was doing so well that I had the luxury to get into an argument with him one day. It was a beautiful Fall day and I took him outside to set up my tandem kayak with the sailing kit that I was sending to Greece. I was making sure it had everything in its place before shipping it. He was super happy when I told him that I bought this to take Sofia on some adventures this coming summer to search for some remote beaches in Greece. George called to talk to dad and took a big shit in my punch bowl. He tells my dad that he just put in an accepted offer on an office building. My dad says to me, “That guy’s buying offices and you’re out here playing with your little kayak?”. He knew how to push my buttons and which lever to pull. I was like, “I’ve been wiping your ass, cleaning your dick, feeding you stuff you’re not supposed to eat when mom goes to the supermarket, massaging your feet, turning you over so you don’t get bed sores, running to get you water, and a whole bunch of other stuff. You’re lucky I don’t push your wheelchair into oncoming traffic.” I don’t know why I got so defensive that day, because It was a perfect day. I remember afterwards thinking how funny his backhanded comment was and my mom and I still laugh about it to this very day. I can’t wait for summer to come and get my little kayak in the water. He who laughs last, laughs best.
I left for twelve days to run the Athens Marathon in November before Thanksgiving and came back home to find everything exactly the way I left it. As a family, we were all happy and content with the new normal in the house. We had my dad’s care on autopilot, everyone was relaxed, grateful, and we were so supportive of each other. The ugliness of it all lost its power over us. We traded in all our insecurities for enjoying each and every moment we had together. The mood was that my dad will leave when he’s ready to go so we stopped walking the tightrope between this world and the other world and planted our feet firmly in this one. Then, without any warning my dad was gone.
Hollywood couldn’t have scripted a better ending. On Christmas Eve we had a full house. Everyone was there and accounted for. There was a feast and a bunch of children tearing through presents like little Gremlins. The spirit of Christmas charity was shining bright in our house that evening. The bright star of Bethlehem lead us to seek out not only our own things, but those of others; and that it disposed us, to part with our own things for the sake of others. My dad complimented me on the roast leg of lamb and said I did a really good job with everything else. Greg fed my dad dessert to finish the evening. It was a pistachio cheesecake and he ate it all. Rosalia wanted to give him his Christmas gift, but I said we should give it to him in the morning because he’s resting now.
Earlier in the evening Zoie pulled a chair up to show my dad her dress and the crown she made. My dad thought he saw an angel and I believe this is why he didn’t want to miss this opportunity to depart that evening. I said good night, kissed him on the forehead and told him we’ll talk in the morning. Later that evening with all the children tucked in their beds and visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, my mom came into my room at around 3am and told me that my dad needed to see me. I thought it was going to be a Christmas miracle that he probably wanted to apologize for what he said to me back in October. In the one minute it took for me to get to him, he was gone.
After his passing, the next days were consumed by running around town trying to get a funeral together before the end of the year. After our stop at the funeral home, my sister in law Jana remarked how I was being a little too “direct” with the funeral grieving team or whatever the F they called themselves. I explained to her that these thieves will rob us blind if we let them. I just saved us $8,000 by being direct. They had to go talk to the “manager” on a few of my direct points. That’s some scummy used car dealer shit right there, because each time they came back to the table with the approval to proceed.
The next stop was the cemetery. The cemetery director at Highland Park has seen it all over the years and I asked him to share a crazy story while we were waiting to sign some papers. He told me that at a funeral for a gang banger, all the gang members got down on one knee and took an oath to avenge his death while the police looked on from afar. The police were there to make sure there wouldn’t be any other funerals that day. He also said that biker funerals were also pretty crazy. The last item of business was the luncheon. If Bullwinkle’s couldn’t do it, we were out of ideas and places to go in such short notice. Greek people put more emphasis on the food than the flowers at a funeral. They came through big for us and did an excellent job on the luncheon. The only thing left to stress us out was the casket being delivered on time. The contingency plan was to build one from all the scrap wood we had in the garage if we really needed to. The gift he never had the chance to open from Rosalia was a pair of socks that we were able to use for his final send off.
There’s so much that happened during the final months before my dad’s passing that I’m leaving out, because all that stupid stuff has been adjudicated with his passing. I’m all out of fucks to give after helping my mom care for my dad and I’m happy that I used each and every one of them in making my dad’s final days better for him. In the world of givers and takers, my dad was a giver. I stopped counting how many times he made me run to McDonald’s to get Chicken McNuggets because his grandson Alex would be coming over to visit later in the afternoon. The universe has a way of correcting itself without any interference from me. If the day comes where I can bend a spoon with my mind, I’m going on a safari. Until then, IDGAF!
One thing that has me thinking a lot since he left us is a photo from 1963 I found of him sitting in front of the Parthenon. I see a young 24-year-old man that had no idea what his life was going to be like. That photo represents how far he traveled from life in a small village to a metropolis like Athens. He had no idea that he already embarked on what Joseph Campbell calls the Hero’s Journey. This could be why I haven’t experienced grief. The final step of the Hero’s journey is the sharing of the elixir. My dad knew that there was nothing left but to leave us knowing that we have the power to transform the world, as he has been transformed by taking the first critical step over 50 years ago to depart the ordinary world. The saddest part of any existence is to never leave the ordinary world behind to pass through each step of the hero’s journey. That is a life not lived.
What would he think if someone told him then and there what his life was going to be like? In 6 years, you’re going to be married. In 9 years, you will work your ass off and end up in America. You ended up with four sons, because your wife wanted a daughter. Each one of them will be very different from each other and all will provide you with a lifetime of entertainment. Before bedtime, you will get them all tired out by making them wrestle each other like their WWF idols of Hulk Hogan and Andre The Giant. There will be broken bones and trips to the hospitals from their stunts worthy of a Darwin Award. There will be air guitar solos and air drumming in advance of them going to Monsters of Rock, punk rock shows, and seeing the Grateful Dead. One of your sons is going to college and after studying Heidegger’s Being and Time, will contemplate why people rank the possible higher than the actual (especially after you’re gone).
All of them will always go back to Greece and continually strengthen their bonds with the village. Most importantly, not one of them will be a slave to the mighty dollar or take orders from anyone. The funny thing is that they’re going to actually give you money later in life to say thanks for all the shit you put up with. Any one of them will lay down in traffic for you. The best one is that they will all have no problem telling people to go fuck themselves (including the police, that ended badly for one of them). Regardless of this bravado, they will be actually more empathetic, caring, and respectful towards people. This is all because you worked as hard as you did!
My dad’s birthday was yesterday. He would’ve turned 86 on April 28th. This year there will be no Happy Birthday call from me to let him know what I’ve been up to. I haven’t really come up with an excuse yet as to why we didn’t get a chance to talk this year. It may be easiest if I just forget to call. Actually, the truth is that I’ve been busy reorganizing my life. I’ve been prioritizing reading books, trying to get out for runs again, and trying to rekindle my writing. He made me promise that I would sit my ass down and write a book one day. I have also made plans that day to go for a long walk and listen to Coltrane’s A Love Supreme because there is nothing more supreme than the love I have for my dad who is somewhere; but, nowhere to be found. That’s something I can thank death for. As for my future, I’ll know I’ll find him when a gentle breeze fills my sail, pushing my kayak on to a new destination or even off course to help me to open the aperture from which I view the world a bit more.
If I had a star to give, I’d give it to you
Long as you live, would you have the time
To watch it shine, watch it shine
Or ask for the moon and heaven too? I’d give it to you.
Well maybe I’ve got no star to spare, or anything fine or even rare,
Only if you let me be your world, could I ever give this world to you.
Could I ever give this world to you.
-Robert Hunter
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