This will give you all an idea of how long we watched him suffer and how many goodbyes we actually had! Sorry, some of it is redundant!
December 24, 2007
Dear Daddy-
This is a hard letter for me to write in a lot of ways. I’ve started it several times, and it never sounded right. But I think now is the time. I know that you are rounding the home stretch here in life, and as you do, I need you to know some things. Without you, as my father and my friend, I would have been an entirely different person. I have so many things to thank you for that invariably, I will complete this letter and then remember more. But I will try my best now:
*Thank you for my love of the theater. I will never forget going to the LA Theater Center with you to see what seems like dozens of plays. Some of them good, some of them not so good. But you have helped me be able to let theater and art into my soul, and make me feel, as nothing else can.
*Thank you for teaching me to laugh at life, especially the ironic and absurd. I can’t imagine my life without that ability. One of the best illustrations of that would be that dreadful Homecoming date I had when I was 16. Upon telling you of the horror, you tried to stifle a laugh, but just couldn’t hold it back. Then I started to laugh. Laughing at crap is the only thing that gets me through some days, and you are the one who taught me how.
*Thank you for being a playful parent. I have so many memories of you playing with us and being silly…not giving us something to do, but actually getting down on the floor and playing. I pray that I will be able to continue that with my own kids.
*Thank you for loving my friends. I don’t think you realize how much you have meant to them. Friends of mine who have only met you once always ask about you. And friends who you have known for a long time regard you as their second father. I hope you know that. Yours was the house where everyone loved to come, and always felt safe and welcomed.
*Thank you for demonstrating courage by quitting drinking and coming out as a gay man. You could have continued to hide, but you had the guts to say “fuck it” and be who you really are. That’s amazing to me, and I remember that when I feel stifled.
*Thank you for always being on my side. You always have been, even when I was the one in the wrong.
*Thank you for giving me freedom when I was young, freedom I probably didn’t earn or deserve, but helped me in the long run figure out who I was and am. You allowed me to make mistakes and learn from them.
I will think of more things later, I am sure, and regret that I didn’t remember them in time to add them into this letter. But I think you know how much I love you. You are the main person Dad, who knows me, the real me. Some others come close, but not exactly. You are my cornerstone. You are the person who has always been able to make me feel better, helped me to talk my way through a problem, or helped me to evaluate relationships. I will miss you so terribly, and when I can’t just pick up the phone and call you, it’s going to be very hard. But know this: I have never, for one day in my entire life, doubted how much you love me. Do you know how precious and rare that is? I am so lucky and blessed to have had you as a father. And although your body might be gone sometime soon, I know that you will always be with me. And although I would prefer it if you didn’t actually “haunt” me, I would like it if you would visit and tell me what Heaven is like, because I’m going to want to know!
I love you more than words can express, Dad. Thank you for everything you have done.
-Your youngest child.
Memorial service, April 17, 2010:
This is really overwhelming. Walking up here, the first things that pop into my mind are to try not to fall off my heels and wondering if my dad thinks this outfit works. The irony also strikes me because right now I’m wishing I’d taken some of my dad’s classes to get ready for this.
He had been really ill for some time and we’d all been bracing for the inevitable. We’d talked a lot about what he wanted to happen after he’d gone and how he wanted things handled. He’d told me he wanted to have a party at his house after the service and he said, “I don’t know, you think we should cook? Maybe we should hire a caterer and keep it light.” I said, “ummmm, Dad? You’re going to be dead. I think we can handle the details!” If there were two things my dad loved, it was a captive audience and a good party. I hope today he will have both.
In December of 07, I wrote him a letter that he and I jokingly referred to as the death letter. Joking aside, I wanted to make sure he knew how I felt about him and to still be coherent enough to fully absorb it. I’d like to share parts of it: Thank you for giving me my love of theatre and the arts, and helping me let it become part of my soul. Thank you for being a playful parent. I have vivid memories of you playing with us and being silly, and I hope that I can continue that with my own children. Thank you for giving me the freedom (maybe sometimes too much) to make my own mistakes and learn from them. I made a lot, and I’d like to think I’ve learned a lot. Thank you for welcoming, knowing, and loving my friends as though they were your own. Yours was the house where everyone wanted to come. A lot of them are here today, not just to support me, but because they loved you. Many of them regarded you as a second father, at a time in their lives when they really needed one. Thank you for always picking flowers from the yard to put in my bedroom when I would visit from college. That always made me feel so incredibly wanted and anticipated. Thank you for showing me what it felt like to be loved unconditionally, respected, and listened to. I think that knowledge had a lot to do with who I ended up marrying.
Of all the traits I got from my dad, one of the most valuable and definitely the one I use the most is the ability to laugh at the ridiculous and the absurdity of life and find humor in unexpected situations. When I was 15, I had a horrific date to the Homecoming dance. He was over an hour late picking me up, wouldn’t dance with me, and scheduled dinner after the dance so we had to leave early. Then he got on the wrong freeway to go to dinner, and by the time he figured it out, everything was closed. All I got to eat that evening was a Winchell’s donut. I went home feeling terribly sorry for myself. Later that weekend, I went up to dad’s house, ready to share my tale of woe and fully expecting 100% sympathy and comfort. That’s not what happened. About halfway through, I noticed he was stifling laughter. When I got to the part about the donut, he busted out into a full belly laugh, and then I did too. Without that ability, I don’t know how I would handle my chosen career, or being a parent, or just life in general.
A few years later, we drove together to move me up to SFSU for college. He got me settled in the dorms and I drove him to the airport to fly home. A few days later, he called to see how things were going. I said, “good.” There was a pause on the phone and he said, “You’re never coming home, are you?” I replied, “I don’t think so.” I’ve now been living in Northern California for 20 years. How did he know that after a few days? But he did, he could hear it in my voice, it was a better fit for me. When I was 24 and in grad school, I met my husband Mike. We’d dated for only 2 or 3 weeks, and I told my dad, “I think I might marry this one.” He said, “You know, he sounds different. I bet you will.” 15 years together and two awesome children later, again, he was right. He was my cornerstone, and he just knew me.
I thought about readings and poems to share, but in my day to day life, I think more in terms of song lyrics. My dad was so dramatic and moody and could go from being down to elated pretty quickly. About a week before he died, I downloaded a CD of Colin Hay’s. There’s a song called Beautiful World that reminds me so much of him. My favorite verse is this: “And still this emptiness persists-perhaps this is as good as it gets. When you’ve given up the drink and those nasty cigarettes, now I leave the party early, at least with no regrets. I watch the sun as it comes up, I watch it as it sets. Yeah, this is as good as it gets.”
To my ever present, often outrageous, high maintenance, hysterically funny, always available, sometimes embarrassing, sincerely warm, and endlessly supportive Daddy. I love you and I miss you. Thank you so much for everything you’ve given me, I can’t fathom who I would’ve become without you. I’d say rest in peace, but I don’t think you’re resting. I know you’re acting, dancing, singing, and laughing. Have a wonderful time!!
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