[All this was said over long distance phone calls and I'm posting this now because it is on my list of things to do - my list of incomplete drafts, intentions, and desires. This is simply for me.
The words I put down over 2.5 years ago could never do justice to those two nights, so I never posted this...and honestly I was fearful that if posted on my blog, it would somehow jinx everything. I can say with absolute certainty that my life forever changed for the better in those few hours. I am not afraid to say this and will never be.]
Maybe it was seeing the Wombats or Maybe it was my decision to fix my glasses that made it happen. Regardless, this was written on Aug 14th, 2007
[There was video here at one time / it is no longer on youtube]
It started with an internal debate: Should I go or do I stay at home and do nothing again.
I was ready to leave, on the couch debating the worth of money spent to see the Wombats at Spaceland. I wasn't employed at the time and frankly a bit flustered with my stupid responsible side that said don't go, you're not allowed to be happy. Save your money.
My hands would wring my own self hating neck if I could, but I told myself to fuck off and just go. Be happy, Jump Willy, Jump. So I did.
You know that glow after great sex? Yeah the Wombats played a show like that.
Sang most of the words to their songs, mumbled the rest and left after the show jumping from curb to curb, past 7-Eleven to my parked car to find my way to Kiss or Kill that night. I landed giddy with smiles.
~
She came in with a friend straight off the plane from Michigan, paused at the landing that looked over the patio of El Cid before braving the uneven final four steps down. I knew I was going to talk to her in those first few seconds.
I said hi to our mutual friend as we chatted as a group and fought the shyness and kept thinking how cute she was as she spoke. She was wearing a Snoopy shirt and I was honesty surprised to hear that she just got off a 4+ hour flight and did not look at bit traveled. She was nothing but adorable in my eyes as we talked.
Our conversation was as short as she was and before I knew it she was leaving for the night. Our spoken goodbyes lacked an ending I was happy with and it showed in my face. I wanted to believe her expression reflected mine as we said goodbye and she relaxed into the pull off her group, heading towards the stairs up to Sunset Blvd.
At home, up until 5 AM, I debated writing the mutual friend to mention what I thought of this most beautiful girl, the girl that finally made me swoon at first sight. This would be call making an effort; It had been so long I didn't know how to do it anymore. I've been waiting and waiting and how many false starts did I backed away from these years past? I did nothing that night but think of her.
There was a morning email from the mutual friend who relayed nice thoughts from her. I respond immediately.
"OMG. You have no idea how cute she was!!!"
Saturday would be the next time I could see her during a party down the street, said our friend. That night I showered twice, brushed my teeth twice (yes really) and walked around the lake of Echo Park to the Lavetta House and waited, and waited.
Word was that they were running late which made me a little panicky. I was hella nervous, enough so that my friends notice and insist I have a drink, like right now. They arrived just before I came back outside after finding one of the last beers in the refrigerator. I pushed through the party to the front porch and I see her below. She is beautiful and here to see me - I still can't believe this but I have been reassured that this is indeed true. She's standing within a group of my friends chatting as I'm coming down the stairs, and when I reached the bottom I casually stand opposite of her and wait patiently for an organic moment to make my way over.
Standing next to me, JP kicks me in the shin.
"What the fuck?" I whispered and she stares me into the right direction.
"I know." said with a glare, "I'm going. Happy?"
So I walk around the circle and say hi and this is all perfect. Her smile is perfect. Her eyes search mine and I'm right there in a moment I can't even describe right now.
We talk and observe the funky chicken at the stroke at midnight (a Lavetta House tradition).
We talk as we sat on the concrete step off to the side of the house.
We snuggled and kissed and at one point laying back on the concrete driveway she rest her head on my chest looking about the non-existent starscape of Los Angeles. You have to travel an hour out to see better stars I tell her, then realize, oh wait you'll still be in suburbs. Michigan is nothing like that she informs me.
I talked about California and somehow bring up redwoods trees so large you can drive through them. She doesn't believe they exist. Trust me, they do I say.
I told her how incredibly cute she is. 50 times.
I'm actually holding back as I could say it for 50 more.
~
She left for Michigan the next day.
This sucks this rare thing.
oh this is going to hit me in a couple days. I mean in a bad way.
[It was late, maybe 4 AM so I went to bed to dream of her. When I finally opened my laptop the next afternoon, I wrote out every thought and feeling.]
And it does today.
I'm moping, forcing my memory to rewind, to see her face repeatedly,
to make me smile again.
3.29.2010
3.23.2010
dad draft 3 redacted
[This was written in the week the leading up to Saturday 03.13.10 and finished in the week afterward. Like most stuff I write this post was inspired by actual events. Some things I'll keep close to the chest, in my heart and the words I do speak hold more and are more true than anything I could ever blog. A lot was left out because it doesn't need to be said again or written here. Please note some parts are obviously embellished. The conversation contained below is completely true.]
So I went to visit my dad today.
I'm up here in the Bay Area for my niece's first birthday, a very important event I was not going to miss after years of being flaky with my own family. Yet this short drive from my mom's house to the cemetery has been my plan for months now and my number one goal to be completely honest. No disrespect to my brother, his wife, my amazing niece - please understand this - You, the Unknown Reader, do not know how important this visit was for me right now.
He died in 1989 from cancer of the stomach and liver when I was 17 and he a month past age 56. It would be a lie to say his age didn't cross my mind when I married young and had my first child at 23, wanting to be there to see it all.
It has been 18 or 19 years since I been to his grave, only twice during the early years and one of those times was the funeral itself. You see Unknown Reader, when I moved to Southern California I traveled with the belief that so much of my previous life was being let go. In many ways I felt that I had moved on, no, not necessarily dealt fully with my dad's death (can one really?) but I was OK: I was married, with my first child and found myself in Southern California in 1996 and life was good for a few years. With an eventual divorce in 2003 followed by the reconstruction of self, I moved to Los Angeles proper, a beautiful city I totally related to from the noise and dust to the flower scents and apartment view of the Downtown skyline beyond Echo Park Lake. I was me.
So I went to visit my dad today and I told him everything.
I mean everything - the good and bad, my mistakes, my regrets, my failures and all that I'm proud of, so very proud of. There's my early marriage to T. and yeah that didn't work in the end but through meeting her I now make my home happily in a city I wanted to be in, with a good job and surrounded by wonderful people.
I told him about his grandchildren that I raised as best as I could then and better now. Yes Dad, you have two amazing grandchildren by me plus my niece A. and even another niece on the way this year! You will love to know that the red hair you gave me is there too, just in streaks and spurts but definitely visible in the right light, the same light that makes mine look purple some days. Your granddaughter K. who not only has the music gene like my sister is also running the LA marathon this week at age 13. Then there is your grandson J. who is all boy and who has read almost all the Harry Potter books by the first grade. They are both amazing, funny, crazy smart and loving children.
Dad, you would've repeated to those beautiful two kids the same goofy jokes you told me, the ones where the lame punchline didn't quite make sense but that somehow made the joke even more humorous. Let me tell you Dad that on most trips here I try to drive them around The City, to all the neighborhoods we went to, repeating them the same random facts of SF history you told me. Amazingly I'm still able to find my way around based mostly on memories of our drives to job sites where you paid me for sweeping the floor and fetching the tools from the truck. Ha I totally useless at that age but thrilled to be with you. How many times have I popped out of one district slightly lost only to quickly realize that I was last on this street with you and could guide my way home from there?
Dad, remember all I said about the love that I have for B? That I'm forever thankful to have met the one person who made it so easy to love, so easy to let my guard down, and in turn allowed me to allow myself to be here to speak all this to you Dad.
My words today were garbled with tears but I knew my dad understood all I said.
The good morning fog I awoke to was a replication of the day you were buried, the same fog that lasted throughout the funeral and after the wake. This all changed within my first hour here at the cemetery as the sun and blue sky broke down along ridges of the Briones hills, with dew still in the tall, green grasses bonded together to fight the rise in temperature. Sunshine was with me now.
He is here today - I felt the the warmth on my back. He was here telling me to lose that fear, to ask, to let things be known, that even my fatalist attitude needs to go to the wayside. He said for better or worst nothing is final, Everyday is Change and even death is a questionable state if you believe in the afterlife or reincarnation or what have you.
"You always read too many Time articles when you were alive Dad."
"Yes Bobby, I read and learned and changed - you saw all that. I basically stopped drinking every night, I stopped smoking and my attitudes changed. I was a better father."
"Yeah Dad, those were good choices but you have to understand that I've been so fucking pissed at you for dying, for checking out emotionally even in the years before you were diagnosed and that I avoided all this for far too long. I've been so god damn pissed my whole life that I checked out too, despite all the things I thought was doing right."
"I wasn't perfect and failed at times - you saw those moments too."
"Yes, I am me and I am you but I'm not going to let it be this way anymore Dad. I am not dead."
"No Bobby, you are very much alive." He continued, "You are aware. Doing."
"I want to be now so I am. I can't be any other way."
A cloud blocked the sun and warmth left my side to the cool morning air, to voices drifting across the divided lawns, reflected off grave markers and through the trees. I become aware of the power-walkers enjoying the beautiful valley and flat, empty roadways and the mid-aged couple and dog talking to their loved one in another section. Aware of the lady in the office who helped find my dad's grave and kindly did not mentioned observing me from her desk inside as I was losing my shit for 20 minutes searching the rows, fearful that I had lost him again (Apparently I was only 20 feet off from where my memory told me to look first). I cataloged this dear lady walking the cemetery perimeter making sure everything looked right for the next visitors of the day.
The 3 hours I had to myself that busy weekend, before my niece's party, before I had to pick my sister up from the mall, before I left for the airport at 6 AM was all coming to a close.
"I've always loved you Dad - I miss you so much."
This is all true Unknown Reader, my words to my dad, the warmth of the sun, this beautiful sun. All there and said in the blue light of a Bay Area winter day.
So goodbye Dad. I'm so, so sorry I haven't been here sooner, that I basically avoided you, your death and all the questions I had let be. Every time I'm up in the Bay Area I will be here next to you. I will show my children how very real you are to me and explain why it took me so long to see you again - I keep my promises to the people I love and I'm keeping these promises to myself. I missed you every day since you left and wish you could have seen what I have done with my life so far.
There is so much more to do and you will hear about it all.
[I know I'm often not clear, too vague in my words so let me state it was my fears, my anger...it was only me that kept me from visiting.]
So I went to visit my dad today.
I'm up here in the Bay Area for my niece's first birthday, a very important event I was not going to miss after years of being flaky with my own family. Yet this short drive from my mom's house to the cemetery has been my plan for months now and my number one goal to be completely honest. No disrespect to my brother, his wife, my amazing niece - please understand this - You, the Unknown Reader, do not know how important this visit was for me right now.
He died in 1989 from cancer of the stomach and liver when I was 17 and he a month past age 56. It would be a lie to say his age didn't cross my mind when I married young and had my first child at 23, wanting to be there to see it all.
It has been 18 or 19 years since I been to his grave, only twice during the early years and one of those times was the funeral itself. You see Unknown Reader, when I moved to Southern California I traveled with the belief that so much of my previous life was being let go. In many ways I felt that I had moved on, no, not necessarily dealt fully with my dad's death (can one really?) but I was OK: I was married, with my first child and found myself in Southern California in 1996 and life was good for a few years. With an eventual divorce in 2003 followed by the reconstruction of self, I moved to Los Angeles proper, a beautiful city I totally related to from the noise and dust to the flower scents and apartment view of the Downtown skyline beyond Echo Park Lake. I was me.
So I went to visit my dad today and I told him everything.
I mean everything - the good and bad, my mistakes, my regrets, my failures and all that I'm proud of, so very proud of. There's my early marriage to T. and yeah that didn't work in the end but through meeting her I now make my home happily in a city I wanted to be in, with a good job and surrounded by wonderful people.
I told him about his grandchildren that I raised as best as I could then and better now. Yes Dad, you have two amazing grandchildren by me plus my niece A. and even another niece on the way this year! You will love to know that the red hair you gave me is there too, just in streaks and spurts but definitely visible in the right light, the same light that makes mine look purple some days. Your granddaughter K. who not only has the music gene like my sister is also running the LA marathon this week at age 13. Then there is your grandson J. who is all boy and who has read almost all the Harry Potter books by the first grade. They are both amazing, funny, crazy smart and loving children.
Dad, you would've repeated to those beautiful two kids the same goofy jokes you told me, the ones where the lame punchline didn't quite make sense but that somehow made the joke even more humorous. Let me tell you Dad that on most trips here I try to drive them around The City, to all the neighborhoods we went to, repeating them the same random facts of SF history you told me. Amazingly I'm still able to find my way around based mostly on memories of our drives to job sites where you paid me for sweeping the floor and fetching the tools from the truck. Ha I totally useless at that age but thrilled to be with you. How many times have I popped out of one district slightly lost only to quickly realize that I was last on this street with you and could guide my way home from there?
Dad, remember all I said about the love that I have for B? That I'm forever thankful to have met the one person who made it so easy to love, so easy to let my guard down, and in turn allowed me to allow myself to be here to speak all this to you Dad.
My words today were garbled with tears but I knew my dad understood all I said.
The good morning fog I awoke to was a replication of the day you were buried, the same fog that lasted throughout the funeral and after the wake. This all changed within my first hour here at the cemetery as the sun and blue sky broke down along ridges of the Briones hills, with dew still in the tall, green grasses bonded together to fight the rise in temperature. Sunshine was with me now.
He is here today - I felt the the warmth on my back. He was here telling me to lose that fear, to ask, to let things be known, that even my fatalist attitude needs to go to the wayside. He said for better or worst nothing is final, Everyday is Change and even death is a questionable state if you believe in the afterlife or reincarnation or what have you.
"You always read too many Time articles when you were alive Dad."
"Yes Bobby, I read and learned and changed - you saw all that. I basically stopped drinking every night, I stopped smoking and my attitudes changed. I was a better father."
"Yeah Dad, those were good choices but you have to understand that I've been so fucking pissed at you for dying, for checking out emotionally even in the years before you were diagnosed and that I avoided all this for far too long. I've been so god damn pissed my whole life that I checked out too, despite all the things I thought was doing right."
"I wasn't perfect and failed at times - you saw those moments too."
"Yes, I am me and I am you but I'm not going to let it be this way anymore Dad. I am not dead."
"No Bobby, you are very much alive." He continued, "You are aware. Doing."
"I want to be now so I am. I can't be any other way."
A cloud blocked the sun and warmth left my side to the cool morning air, to voices drifting across the divided lawns, reflected off grave markers and through the trees. I become aware of the power-walkers enjoying the beautiful valley and flat, empty roadways and the mid-aged couple and dog talking to their loved one in another section. Aware of the lady in the office who helped find my dad's grave and kindly did not mentioned observing me from her desk inside as I was losing my shit for 20 minutes searching the rows, fearful that I had lost him again (Apparently I was only 20 feet off from where my memory told me to look first). I cataloged this dear lady walking the cemetery perimeter making sure everything looked right for the next visitors of the day.
The 3 hours I had to myself that busy weekend, before my niece's party, before I had to pick my sister up from the mall, before I left for the airport at 6 AM was all coming to a close.
"I've always loved you Dad - I miss you so much."
This is all true Unknown Reader, my words to my dad, the warmth of the sun, this beautiful sun. All there and said in the blue light of a Bay Area winter day.
So goodbye Dad. I'm so, so sorry I haven't been here sooner, that I basically avoided you, your death and all the questions I had let be. Every time I'm up in the Bay Area I will be here next to you. I will show my children how very real you are to me and explain why it took me so long to see you again - I keep my promises to the people I love and I'm keeping these promises to myself. I missed you every day since you left and wish you could have seen what I have done with my life so far.
There is so much more to do and you will hear about it all.
[I know I'm often not clear, too vague in my words so let me state it was my fears, my anger...it was only me that kept me from visiting.]
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