About 15 years ago I received a letter from my father. It was part of my confirmation course in church, and the parents were each required to write us a letter and vice versa. I think I was expecting to receive the standard fare of "great job!" or "way to church!" stuff. The pastor of my church arrived to read the letters with me -another part of the deal- and I sat there with a lemonade as we went through it. I have no specific recollection of what I wrote to them in their letter, but that probably supports the idea that it wasn't very good. Completely love and sincere but hastily thrown together without much thought of it. What they wrote to me were two of the most devastating things I've ever read.
I have to preface this with by saying that my father has had health problems for my entire life. I spent months as a baby with my parents friends and family while my parents were in Boston for surgery. He got a permanent intravenous tube when I was seven. When I was in middle school, he had a liver transplant. Oh and he's probably broken about 25-20 bones in his life. But at the same time he was the healthiest person I knew. The only person in my family who didn't drink and he jogged all the time; miles and miles every day. Well, every day he wasn't in the hospital or sporting a skiing/boating/building accident. But he would always just bounce back up with remarkable speed and determination. My mom always says that he's had seven miracles. I cannot itemize these, but I can account for a few. Seven times that he beat the medical odds by surviving. But this is before all that. When I just knew he'd had a liver transplant and a little... i don't know, clumsy? No, he moved with a certain grace, he was an outstanding athlete, starting in three sports in high school and later becoming an All-American lacrosse player. But he somehow would ski into trees, or fall into ditches. Have you ever seen The Royal Tenenbaums? You know the scene where Danny Glover's character is walking along Anjelica Huston and just falls into a hole? That actually happened to him, several times. That's my dad: white Danny Glover. Except my father has never said "I'm to old for this shit". at least not in my presence.
So anyway, I'm opening this letter with Dick (the reverend) and the letters both just put together this story, the story of the first of those miracles. It took place a few months before I was born. He had been diagnosed with a very rare and serious liver disease, Primary sclerosing cholangitis (This is what NFL legend Walter Payton died of). He needed to seek intensive surgery immediately. and my dad prayed his heart out. My pregnant mom was a mess, too. She told me once that during this time she lost her great grandmother's giant canary diamond (whatever that means) and shrugged it off without a care, saying "if Ned makes it through this it'll be worth it".
and it was in these letters that they told me what they were praying for and dreaming of: My father getting to meet me, the only child he had with his new wife. Not to see me grow old, not even to see me grown. Just to meet me. and when he made it through. When their prayers had been answered, they broke down and wept with joy for a day when I was finally born. and every day since then, he said in his letter and my mom said in hers, they were just counting as a blessing. This was no longer a matter of counting down the days, but counting up. He got to see the 5 children that he raised grow into adulthood. He got to know and love 6 grandchildren. The pleasure he took with this, this gift of life and love and family was so apparent. He was just zealous in his very being. He fought off one medical problem after another over the years, with continued liver problems and eventually being diagnosed with cancer this past August. and he died at 11:06 this morning, holding my hand and surrounded by loved ones.
It was peaceful, and there was no pain. Two days ago, he was scheduled to be released from the hospital this afternoon. The doctors were very worried that he’d developed an infection on his heart valve. Through the grace of God it wasn’t, and the said he’d get to go home after being in the hospital for two straight weeks. But complications developed. I was in visiting him last night, and he was in a lot of pain. The sores on his mouth and the morphine made his speech very difficult to understand, and you could see the frustration in his eyes when he is trying with great effort to tell his parents that he loves them, and they can’t understand. Then his liver failed late last night. Things obviously deteriorated from there and he was unconscious by the time I got there this morning.
Things have kind of been a haze since then. I’m running on sheer willpower at the moment, and will completely zonk out as soon as I finish typing this. I‘ve been crying all day and looking after my mom, cleaning up the house, etc. But throughout everything, I can still just think to myself how lucky I am, how lucky we all have been, to have had such a kind and caring and loving and patient role model in my life. I have had the fortune of knowing and loving my father. and I remind myself of those letters and how blessed we were. I still own those letters. and if my place burned to the ground right now my wife and those letters would be the only things I make sure I had safe.

So, sorry to just puke this up on you, but I might not be posting much for a while, and you deserve at least an explanation as to why. I have to go start on his obituary now and I’m far more terrified of writing that than this.

So as I was walking out of the hospital last night and I put my headphones and just hit the shuffle songs button, not really sure of what I wanted to hear. The first was metal and the second was Willie Nelson singing reggae songs. The third one was this and I almost collapsed right there on the train platform in front of the lady and her sister who were smoking a joint with their three toddlers sharing a bench with them.

Waitin’ for Superman (live) – The Flaming Lips

and this because it’s the sort of encouragement everyone needs to hear I swear if this guy was a cult leader I’d so have a robe on right now.

anyways, this will help uh, cleanse your palate: