Thanksgiving.
S, DC, and I were sitting at the kitchen table in S's house. We were smoking, talking, and we were 17. S's mom was at the computer typesetting and his father was also at the kitchen table, fudging his logbook. He was a bus driver, you see. DC was going on about something and flicked his ash in the vicinity of the ashtray. It missed completely. S's father looked up at him over the half moon lenses of his reading glasses. "D," he said quietly and deliberately, pushing the ashtray towards him, "this...is an ashtray." I laugh about it now.
You see, S's father died last Tuesday. I found out about it in the restroom of a Starbucks in Madison, Wisconsin on Wednesday night. The email was there from DC. Sudden...unexpected. S's father was like a second father to me. I even called him "dad." He was morbidly obese. It's true. A couple eight years back he lost a kidney. He's been living on borrowed time for a long time now. Thing of it is, though, to know the man, you wouldn't assume he'd ever die. He was one of the most direct and dynamic characters I have ever known. He told you how it was and didn't fool around with eggshells. I will miss him greatly. It affects me more than it probably should.
I haven't seen him in close to 10 years.
I got a call from my mother tonight. She told me that she visited the hospital about a boil she has, and they wanted her to stay in the hospital. I don't know why they would want her to stay in the hospital for a boil, but they did. She mentioned something in passing about white blood cell counts being through the roof. She, the obstinate old woman she is, decided to go home tonight. So she called me to tell me that she is sick enough that she was supposed to stay in the hospital but didn't because she had to pay bills. I'll know more tomorrow. It is an irony that my father died from a lack of white cells, and my mother has enough, apparently, for a small African nation.
Is this how it starts? Trips to the emergency room that turn into hospital stays that turn into death? Why am I even asking? That's exactly how it starts. 30 November 2009 is the beginning of the end for my mother, and I'm not completely OK with that.
DC is working towards becoming a Rabbi. He officiated the funeral for S's father on Sunday morning. We talked tonight. He told me that tonight, in his class this semester, they talked about the "when bad things happen to good people" scenarios most rabbis are faced with. He had personal experience with this sort of ministry this weekend, and said as much. He said, "This is what is happening now, and it sucks."
There's no need to question why God would do something like take S's father away. At least not in the middle of it. Question it later, when the sting goes away. For now, deal with the sting. Tonight, while talking to him, I realized that he is turning into a very wise man. He grew up well. I, for one, am honored, and grateful, to be able to call him my friend.
So, in honor of DC: This is what is happening now, and not all of it sucks. Not all of it.
You see, S's father died last Tuesday. I found out about it in the restroom of a Starbucks in Madison, Wisconsin on Wednesday night. The email was there from DC. Sudden...unexpected. S's father was like a second father to me. I even called him "dad." He was morbidly obese. It's true. A couple eight years back he lost a kidney. He's been living on borrowed time for a long time now. Thing of it is, though, to know the man, you wouldn't assume he'd ever die. He was one of the most direct and dynamic characters I have ever known. He told you how it was and didn't fool around with eggshells. I will miss him greatly. It affects me more than it probably should.
I haven't seen him in close to 10 years.
I got a call from my mother tonight. She told me that she visited the hospital about a boil she has, and they wanted her to stay in the hospital. I don't know why they would want her to stay in the hospital for a boil, but they did. She mentioned something in passing about white blood cell counts being through the roof. She, the obstinate old woman she is, decided to go home tonight. So she called me to tell me that she is sick enough that she was supposed to stay in the hospital but didn't because she had to pay bills. I'll know more tomorrow. It is an irony that my father died from a lack of white cells, and my mother has enough, apparently, for a small African nation.
Is this how it starts? Trips to the emergency room that turn into hospital stays that turn into death? Why am I even asking? That's exactly how it starts. 30 November 2009 is the beginning of the end for my mother, and I'm not completely OK with that.
DC is working towards becoming a Rabbi. He officiated the funeral for S's father on Sunday morning. We talked tonight. He told me that tonight, in his class this semester, they talked about the "when bad things happen to good people" scenarios most rabbis are faced with. He had personal experience with this sort of ministry this weekend, and said as much. He said, "This is what is happening now, and it sucks."
There's no need to question why God would do something like take S's father away. At least not in the middle of it. Question it later, when the sting goes away. For now, deal with the sting. Tonight, while talking to him, I realized that he is turning into a very wise man. He grew up well. I, for one, am honored, and grateful, to be able to call him my friend.
So, in honor of DC: This is what is happening now, and not all of it sucks. Not all of it.