1:43 a.m. - 2006-03-11
A Tale of Two Deaths
Even when Dad was weeks from death, he was still stirring shit up. At one point he got into something with Mom and it escalated to the point where I had to play mediator. It was ridiculous and terribly draining. Dad was upset because Mom was drinking so much. Mom couldn't have endured what she had to go through including almost a solid year rarely even leaving the house for more than a quick trip to the store, and having to deal with his ups and downs without the alcohol. And so it went. I found strength that I would never have dreamed possible. And before Dad died he looked up at Mom and told her "That Kim,... she's turned out to be SOME gal!" He appreciated and loved me in a way I'd never felt before. And when I heard those words from Mom, it was at long last, his approval. I'd wanted that all my life. I was able to let him go, and feel that I had truly made amends with all the demons.
With Craig's dad's death, things are quite different. With every letter we opened, every piece of everything he saved for all those years something more was revealed about this man I was finding I never really knew. It really stung. He wrote poetry. He saved the most beautiful wedding pictures I've ever seen in my life. Everything was carefully and lovingly stored in that trunk, a task only an ex-Marine could accomplish so well. (He even had a little slip of paper, inside a cigarette case, that held a note from Bea, saying she was serious about accepting his proposal.) He looked like a movie star. He had many issues he was working through related to his service in the Korean War. He was gallant, and eloquent, and handsome and hard-working and funny. He had the most intense, burning love for Bea that I have ever witnessed. Craig related many stories about how "Beaver Cleaver" his upbringing was, but I couldn't fully imagine what that must have been like. Then we began to remove each piece from the trunk, and all the stories began to really flesh out. What a drag to find all this out when that ship has sailed. Too late, do not pass go, you're screwed.
Ok, now I'm rambling. You see what a problem I have STOPPING the words when things start rolling. But God does it feel good. Ahhhhhhhh, sweet release.
