Here you go, the last in my unintentional series of the immediacy of death. Thanks for the notes of encouragement. It means a lot as I have to make my debut as one of the eulogizers on Thursday. A white, almost pink, dude from the suburbs trying to wax eloquent on the steps of one of the city’s eldest black churches. I got a feeling that was one of Pop’s final shots at messing with me a little. I like to think the image has him chuckling wherever he may be.

Anyhoo, if it seems like I’ve harped a little too much on mortality laden for you casual journal readers well, bugger off, it’s my journal. I started to think about what to say whilst we were doing what you do in the waking hours of such events. While my ex and her brother tended to the funeral director, I tried to make myself useful by answering the door, mixing drinks and whatnot. It felt a little strange to be a block away at the height of events Saturday night, but I’m not sure what being right there would have accomplished. Sitting with the kids seemed like the next best thing so their mom could say goodbye and have some time to grieve without worrying about the rest of us. The day after, you sit, you eat, you cry, you laugh, repeat.

I had to laugh a little as my ex’s current girlfriend and her former were both there, setting up higher comedy or drama. My daughter sidled up me at one point and said “You think they’re going to go at it?” Such are the vicissitudes of lesbian turf battles. Thankfully, said current one has some sense.

Given that a large family and a large populace sometimes rarely see one another, you can never be too certain as to who everybody is. I have the perfectly sincere “Hey!!” down pretty good. Pretty sure I was hugged by three people yesterday who I have absolutely no idea who the hell they were. I did reach for my wallet to be on the safe side.

You never know what talents can get called upon. After getting the kids and their Mom back home, I went back to my place to do photoshop work for an obituary portrait. Never been in that position before. I had to walk through some watermarks to make a passable picture, and I think it worked out fairly well, given the original document.

So, this is what I’m thinking for behind the pulpit

“I can’t say if today is a day of remembrance, commemoration, sadness or celebration. Pop would want it to be whatever you need it to be. He got much of his strength through moments in this very building, but he never wallowed in it. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know about him. What I do know is that he wanted the best that life had to offer for everybody in the room. If there was a chance to reach higher, it is a chance that he deemed worth taking. It may even feel a little ridiculous to start with, but the long term payoff would always merited us trying. He never stopped looking for the opportunities for all of us. We may have lost a booster, a cheerleader, a champion, but savor the knowledge that we had him on our side. He wants us all to shine, daring us to be great. I think he’d spot us today, but put tomorrow on notice because we’re coming.”

Alright, so I ain't Father Flannigan, but it's genuine and to the point.

He passed away about 20 minutes ago

Thanks for the good wishes all, but I wish I was off to a better start. Roswell is out of options for Dad-in-law. It's pretty much killed my celebratory urges as his only meaningful phone call is going to Hospice. When you can't get sturdy enough to even think about chemo, you know you got troubles. My ex says the drill is to keep him comfy

The Zoo folk whooped me up with lunch and cake, but the cake was tough to grin through as I got this little medical bon mot to deal with.

So, I effectively stopping giving a shit about birthday proceedings as a result. Doesn't seem to matter when you have that likely possibility floating on the horizon. I started the day thinking my biggest issue is that thanks to debt, car insurance, repairs and rent, my paycheck was done on arrival.

Funny how a prognosis can color your whole day. I'm working but I really don't feel like it. Supposed to celebrate with the kids and my folks, but my heart just isn't in it anymore.

I found this beautiful winter poem and thought it might be a comfort to you. It was to me, and it's very well written.


"WINTER"

a poem by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre...






"F U C K , It's Cold !!!!"

The End

Eddie Izzard just rocks. This is too fucking funny