One day, I will remember to gather all of my dad's stories and store them in a single place.
That man has had quite a life.
Pops drives me insane with some of his archaic beliefs... and his unabashed bigotry... and... I'll stop myself right there before I make this post a negative one.
I had noticed my poor dad was quiet... and actually pretty sad these last two days.
He has different types of quiet, angry-quiet being the one I hate, and sad-quiet the one that breaks my heart.
After sitting down for some dinner with my folks and me being oddly chirpy, chiming a playful hello and getting nothing in return, I remembered:
Dad accompanied his best friend as moral support as they cremated his brother.
I guess Dad's BFF's only brother passed away a few days ago, and Dad's BFF decided he was going to get the man cremated. Dad's BFF demanded to be present as they placed his brother in the furnace, to make sure "it was really him getting cremated."
He told Dad of this, and Dad volunteered to join him, since the deceased was also a semi-BFF by default. Back in the 70's, that's how these three guys did stuff... all three together, it was only right they'd be together for this as well.
I look through my dad's old photos and see young dudes having fun in a very old Vegas. They have the coolest haircuts... a ton of hair... huge glasses... bellbottom pants... they're smoking weed and drinking beer. They're being... young bachelors. They have no cares in the world.
Now they're chubby old men... thin hair... huge reading-glasses. Each one of them have battled some sort of cancer... and now they're watching as their group slowly dwindles.
Poor Daddy.
Well, fuck, look at that... I still made this negative, didn't I?
That man has had quite a life.
Pops drives me insane with some of his archaic beliefs... and his unabashed bigotry... and... I'll stop myself right there before I make this post a negative one.
I had noticed my poor dad was quiet... and actually pretty sad these last two days.
He has different types of quiet, angry-quiet being the one I hate, and sad-quiet the one that breaks my heart.
After sitting down for some dinner with my folks and me being oddly chirpy, chiming a playful hello and getting nothing in return, I remembered:
Dad accompanied his best friend as moral support as they cremated his brother.
I guess Dad's BFF's only brother passed away a few days ago, and Dad's BFF decided he was going to get the man cremated. Dad's BFF demanded to be present as they placed his brother in the furnace, to make sure "it was really him getting cremated."
He told Dad of this, and Dad volunteered to join him, since the deceased was also a semi-BFF by default. Back in the 70's, that's how these three guys did stuff... all three together, it was only right they'd be together for this as well.
I look through my dad's old photos and see young dudes having fun in a very old Vegas. They have the coolest haircuts... a ton of hair... huge glasses... bellbottom pants... they're smoking weed and drinking beer. They're being... young bachelors. They have no cares in the world.
Now they're chubby old men... thin hair... huge reading-glasses. Each one of them have battled some sort of cancer... and now they're watching as their group slowly dwindles.
Poor Daddy.
Well, fuck, look at that... I still made this negative, didn't I?
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