Archive for the 'dad' Category

lines found on a lost hard drive

Published 24.October.2008 dad , death , frowns , frustration , mortality , poems , steadylife 0 Comments

After the Fire Fades

In the unquiet mind of misery
thoughts dash and dart
during the night. Sleep
becomes fitful, stopping, starting,
ending, as morning comes too early.
Even the birds are confused
singing spring songs in November.
The train rumbles in the distance.
Heartburn wakes me at 4:30, or
another nightmare. I am living
the nightmare. It’s the Big Chill,
without being funny. We are only
in our thirties. When did this start happening?
I am driving to see a friend who is dying.
Other friends will be there. Maybe it won’t
hurt as much as I think. It will. It does.
I’m reminded of other deaths

Kelli’s sick.
What do you mean?
Kelli’s sick, cancer.
Cancer? What kind?
Breast Cancer.

(Mom has breast cancer,
Kathy had breast cancer,
They are fine)

What do the doctors say?
Five years, maybe less.
Speechless I sit on the bed.

Riley has black hair.
Kelli’s hair is gone. She wears a wig now.
Riley, three months and content
in the arms of a big stranger.
He cries knowing Riley may never know her mom.

How is Kelli doing?
She’s doing good.
Don’t’ ask, Don’t tell.

In the funeral home,
two survivors meet one.
Thank you for coming
to my father’s funeral.

Trout walks for Avon. The girls,
Dave and I Unload baggage.
Five trucks of baggage. 250 walkers
bags. My muscles ache for days.

Sitting around the fire, we chat.
Even now Kelli is terminal,
but we don’t know
She tires easily.
When I met her
We danced to 6AM.
Not even five years
have past.

Driving from the airport again:
Kelli’s been having seizures. Jamie can’t
work any more. We are going up Friday night
to make pottery.

We can’t go tonight.
She is not doing well.
What do you mean, not doing well?
Difficulty breathing.

How’s Kelli doing?
Not good, A matter of days.
We need to go see her.
I know, we’re going tomorrow.

I am driving to see a dying friend.
Better call Shawn. Voice-mail.
This is an awful thing to leave on voice-mail
I’m sorry.
Sixty degrees, sunny and cold.
The angle of the sun gives a false sense
of warmth this time of year.
I haven’t even thought of tears
until Shawn calls back.
I know this must be hard for you.
Choked up. I breath heavily
wishing to go back to Bethesda before
when things weren’t so wrong.

My god, she is sick. You can’t,
don’t, won’t cry in front of her
she might not know. she knows
don’t be stupid.
Dennis warbles hello.
Sparkle, smiles she lights up
she knows us, but can’t get the
blanket arranged on the couch.
She struggles stubbornly, Sit down
Kel, Can we get you anything.
She sleeps. No words are spoken.
Riley has blond hair now, curly and wild.
She’s two, or almost two.
Kelli smiles at the child. She gets up
talks to her daughter. Riley knows
where her esophagus is.

We have to leave. Hugs and kisses.
I whisper, I love you. She loves me too.
We know. We share the misery.
Dennis is crying in the kitchen.
Tears stream down our faces. We pull it
together, together.

Better call mom.
Did you write something once about a match?
What? Why even spark the match?
Maybe. Mary Furlong gave Matthew
This paper and said,
I think this is Damien’s.
It looks like your handwriting.
Mom reads a poem long lost, forgotten.
Powerful words for a seventeen year old.
There must be an afterlife. Something more.
Life sparks and burns with fury, then flickers
and fades, if theres’ nothing more
why even strike the match?
Do you think Dad will be waiting for her?

  (Dad, Kelli’s coming. Take care
  of her for us. I know you will.
  We’re taking care of mom and Jamie.
  We’ll see you at the big one after
  the fire fades.)

-DED, 2002

Thanks to the Family

Published 2.July.2008 dad , death , family , fatherhood , frank , good things , gratitude , gson , karma , smiles , steadylife 0 Comments

Even though my family can get on my nerves, I’m thankful that they are still here. Our family has gradually shrunk over the past 20 years (death > reproduction) and that sucks, but we are lucky to have each other. So to my family, I’d like to say thanks for being there for me.

The importance of giving back

Published 28.June.2008 charity , dad , family , fatherhood , giving back , good things , gson , karma , smiles , steadylife , thoughts 0 Comments

Very likely, you are much more fortunate than you think.

We all have problems, but few of us have problems that impact our lives in ways that really degrade our standard of living. There are times when the grind gets to me. I find it very hard to focus on the fact that I’ve got it pretty good. I’m very lucky to have a healthy and happy family.

To that end here’s a list of ten things that are going right as of today:

  1. Greyson is a healthy baby boy, weighing in at over 19 pounds at 6 months. He is starting to talk (Dadadadadadada - It doesn’t hurt that that’s me even if he doesn’t know it). He has started to eat solid food (oatmeal and sweet potatos). He laughs and smiles nearly every time I walk into the room.
  2. Taffy has quit her job. She will be staying home with Greyson full time from now on. (I’m a bit nervous about this on a number of levels, but I know it will all be okay in the end.)
  3. I’ve got a good job that doesn’t require me to work outdoors in extreme heat or cold.
  4. We may not be able to have all the THINGS that we’d like, but we do have most of what we want and certainly have all that we NEED.
  5. We are fortunate enough to be selective in the type of food we buy. (We try to buy organic, but it doesn’t always work out. We need to be buying local…)
  6. We have a small, but supportive, family. We are lucky to have the family that we have. Many people don’t have a close family. Greyson’s Grandmother came up from NC to stay with him during the day last week. We lost our child care a few weeks ago and Taffy still had a week of work to deal with. It was fantastic to have Pat up for the week so that neither of us had to skip work. (I’m pretty sure Pat loved spending time with Greyson as well…)
  7. We are not suffering from a significant drought this year. (The rain in MD has been above average for this time of year, accoridng to www.accuweather.com
  8. Both Taffy and I are relatively healthy. We certainly could do more to make ourselves healthier, but neither of us have one foot in the grave…
  9. My parents taught me right from wrong. I was fortunate to have such wonderful parents. I miss my dad more than I can ever put in words. He taught me how to be a man, but more importantly how to be a father.
  10. Taffy is the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met and she not only agreed to marry me, but to bear my children. She rocks!!!

So what does this have to do with the importance of giving back. Well, even though I’ve got it really good, better than most, it’s still hard to part with cash or more importantly time to give back. There was a time when I gave two weekends a year to a wonderful camp that was focused on families living with HIV/AIDS. I no longer have time to give to that camp. And I miss that.

I will never forget the second camp that I attended as a volunteer, where a little girl from Baltimore came up to me, fresh off the bus from Johns Hopkins Hosptial, and asked “Are you gonna take me fishin this weekend.” I wonder what she’s up to this weekend. She was an angel. She lost her mother a few years ago. She didn’t return to camp but once after that.

While I can no longer give my time, I can give money to worthy causes. This is not nearly as beneficial as giving my time, my love, my character to an organiztion, but it’s something.

So, I encourage you, dear reader, to count your blessings, and in this time of a sour economy find a way to give back to your community, whereever it is. I guarentee it will be worth either your time or your money.

The day dad died

Published 3.May.2008 dad , death , family , frowns , frustration , steadylife , thoughts 1 Comment

This started as a comment for Johnny’s blog at but then I realized this was really a story that needed to be told on steady.org…

There’s nothing stupid about the realization that you don’t know how lucky you are until something bad happens to you. Sometimes it just takes a tragedy to make you stop, at least it did for me.

I didn’t get to say goodbye to my dad before he died. He was admitted to the hospital on 2/1/2002, which as about a week after he’d had a “routine” colonoscopy. In fact, Gus and I went to an outdoors show with dad on Jan 31st and I remember having a smoked sausage sandwich with him, it didn’t sit well with him. Somehow this is relevant.

I was working a “high-powered” job, or at least I thought I was, and had to go to Denver for business the week of the 4th. I was asked to go to Minneapolis around the 10th but declined because I somehow felt that it was not a good idea. He had emergency surgery on the the 10th. The doctor said it went well and that he would probably live a much happier life. I spent every day by his side until he was moved out of the ICU and onto a “regular” floor. That was Thursday. Things were really looking up.

The last time he and I saw each other alive, I told him, “look dad, you’re getting better. Tomorrow you’ll eat real food. I’ll see you Saturday.” That was Thursday. Friday I didn’t go to the hospital. Saturday morning I got the call from mom around 5:00 AM. He’d coded.

I drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital, from Northern Virgina to Glen Burnie. It’s odd, how things stick with you. I listened to a Bosstone’s cd on the way. I still can’t listen to that cd without crying.

When I got to the hospital, he was grey. He was on a respirator. His feet were cold. And I knew right then. This was bad. Really bad. Mom said they were transferring him to UMD medical center in Baltimore. She followed the Ambulance, I followed her. Matt and Jen met us at the hospital.

We waited in this shitty waiting area that was on some kind of mezzanine level. After what seemed like hours, a doctor emerged. When he asked if everyone was family, I knew what we were about to hear. It was like a scene from one of those hospital drama shows. They did all they could. There was too much damage. Too much strain on his heart. He was dead.

I had to call his friends and relay the bad news.

I miss my dad so much. He was my best friend. I am still angry after 6 long fucking years.

Where’s today
Where’s tomorrow been
Where’s the life I’m in
Where’s today
Why’s tomorrow feel
Like a whole new love
Like a whole new deal
It’s not wrong
…
And it’s all part of the plan
…
Where’d you go

j. mascis

December 2008
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