run on question

My father died about 6 years ago, he died suddenly and there was really no time to say goodbye or hear any last minute secrets. I was there when he passed away, I was there when he spoke his last word, and I was there to watch him slip into unconscienceness for the last time. I saw his eyes close for the last time and they didn't open until he was dead and nature opened them to freak me out.

My brother, who was trying to fly in at the last moment, didn't make it in time to say goodbye, didn't see for the last time and was furious that he missed his last chance. I had my own grief to think about, but I can't imagine what his must have been like.

A week before my father died, he was fine. Surviving some treatments and making plans for the summer. He had a few more weeks of treatment then he was out of the hospital and home for the rest and other life. Then, for no reason, he sprang a leak in his head and started to die. Everyone jumped into action and phone calls were made. No one said he was dying, but it was understood and those who wanted to be here needed to get here. He was in a coma for a day and a half, then, without saying anything to anyone. He just died.

When you know cancer is going to do you in, you have a choice. You can succumb to immense amounts of pain and die slowly. Or you can take large doses of morphine and slip away, silently. I opted for morphine and my father died as high as any junkie could ever hope to be. If you are wondering, yes, that's right, the doctors helped him ease his pain and aided in his death. They do it every day and they are praised for it. Dr. Kevorkian was sent up the river as an example, and he wastes away to appease someone... i'm not sure who.

My father lived a mysterious life, clouded in strange stories and hidden facts. There is great speculation about his criminal past and his financial history...

NOTE, I should point out that I have two fathers. Yes, two and I am sure you are all going to run with this one. One father was a dark, mysterious soul. The other father is alive and well and is actually the antithesis of the other. He is light and calm, more stable and kind.... It was an odd childhood. Again, take that and run.

So when my father died, he left a lot of questions. A lot of them. He owned an odd collection of toys, books and other odds and ends that were very much a part of who he was a person. He had married a woman a few years earlier that I went to high school with and with whom, no one really liked. His business, what ever it was at that time, was left undone, we think. There was a lot of loose ends to his life, and for a man consumed with organized paperwork and numbers, he left no word on what to do with anything after he died. No funeral ideas, no requests, no will.... that anyone saw anyway.

He died so suddenly that no questions were really raised. His widow, not the brightest person, became very selfish and it was all about her pain. The three children, two ex wives and four life long friends were all left to bow to her will, because my father had not left one of his own. He was an outspoken writer in an indy newspaper and was a well known rabble rouser of dissention. He was not a fan of religion or funerals, or tombstones, so it came as a great shock to all of us who knew him when his service was held in a church, and there was a tree in the church yard to comemorate him.

No answers.

And that's what happens. People die and we are left with questions that we will never get answered. Their death creates tiny little mysteries that get in the way and make it harder to grieve. The closer you are to the person, the harder it is to get it straight in your head. You are incredibly sad, it's overwhelming and you truly feel there is no recovering from this. No sleep, no appetite, no words of comfort and nothing that this world has ever offered you can comfort your weary soul. Only time will heal this wound and time is crawling by! People reach out and they all seem to blend together, "i'm here for you", "eat something", "when ever you're ready", "get back on the horse", "take some time off", "drink"... a symphony of sympathy that tears apart your feelings. But, every quiet moment has to be filled with something or you lose your mind as you don't seem to have control over it now. It is driving itself and that just makes matters worse.

Loss is what it is. You have lost someone close to you and all that came with it. You have lost the resource for the answers to questions you have taken for granted and did no ask until it was too late. There is just loss. Loss of control, loss of ideas and loss of hope. You could just die from the mountain of despair that just landed on you.... you just don't feel like you're gonna win. Loss is what... it... is.

And, sadly, you won't win. There is no happy ending in someone dying suddenly. They leave and the questions and comments that you have been sitting on are worthless now. Anger is unleashed and the selfish need fuels the fire. There is no one with an answer and there is no one around to shake violently.

Time will pass and the sleep returns and so does the appetite. Eventually the little things that made you enjoy life find their value again and you ease back into things. The questions never go away, you just learn to live with them and, for a brief moment, you remember to tell everyone everything you have ever wanted to say. You really think you will.

After six years have passed, all I think about now is the occasional memory or two and how my father's death brought my mother, brother and I together. He finally did something right in his life. He died. He showed us that there was a family out there that was stubborn and if they maintained that, they would all die alone, with more questions than answers.

I had hours in my car, driving from gig to gig, to think about him and talk to him. In the end, I accepted that I will never know more than I experienced. I don't even hate his widow. She did spread his ashes the way he wanted, of course, it took her a year. The bold statements she made were part of the whole mess and I don't fault her for that either. I fault her for setting fire to all of stuff and making sure none of his children had anything to remember him by. Isn't life funny?

Loss is what it is...... loss... is.... what... it... is.