"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
(Auden)
Lately I've been thinking of my father, feeling him around. It's a distant type of feeling, I mean it's been so long since I've seen him or heard him, but I've been feeling him lately no matter. Maybe it's because next month is his birthday, and this month is the anniversary of his death; I think. I'm terrible with dates.
I ache when I think of him. Our relationship was pretty stormy yet I can proudly say that I was a daddy's girl for sure. He gave me my name, don't know if I should love him for that or not, Ha! I always hated my name. But he thought about it and gave it to me.
The night before my dear, young boyfriend was killed in a car accident I had a dream that he was in an accident. I was with my father the next morning, the morning of my boyfriend's death, and I told my father about the dream, he was the only one I told.
He definitely was charismatic.
Born in the Jewish ghetto of Chicago, he always wanted to grow up and be rich. He lived with my Bubbie (his mother), and his two sisters and one brother. I heard he had another brother, but that brother didn't live long. The story goes that he was reaching up for something on the stove and brought down the boiling water all over him. He was a toddler of two. Life was rough for my dad, but he didn't really talk much about it, and if he did, it didn't register with me as too much information. I do know that the fact he was poor came out when he tried to teach us about not wasting things and saving our money. Of course I didn't listen to him. To this day I'm a spend thrift; yeah, it's a long story. But my sister, well, that's another story. She's more than good with her money, I"m sure my father is proud of her to this day.
He tried to help me so many times, in his own way. And his own way was something I was never able to relate to, especially as a child. Anger was his go to emotion. If anyone was hurting, he was angry, if something was wrong in his world, he was angry, and if one of us was in trouble, or sick..yep, you got it...anger. But oh the Christmases we had. He loved them and always wanted us to have what we wanted. Turns out in the end, when we finally received our inheritance, we understood why he was so "frugal". He left a nice sum.
Yep, I ache still, just thinking about him and our f*cked up relationship; rides to school in silence (mornings weren't the most pleasant times in our household) fights about my mother's illness, pretty much walking out on me when I was in the most pain ever. But there were good times too. Driving through the neighborhood at Christmas and he would laugh and say, "look at all the beautiful Hanukkah bushes", birthdays, and sure, there were more, I just can't think of them now.
After he died I had the most bizarre experience I have ever had: I was asleep at the foot of my bed with the light on. I heard his voice, it was audible, it was him, he said "Peggy". And I pretty much jumped up and felt a little freaked out. A few seconds after I woke, there was this thought, like a banner across my head which said, "don't give up your faith, you're on the right track." Do I think it was really him? YES! I KNOW it was, as much as one can know the sun comes up each morning, that's how sure I was, still am!
My mother never really liked to have pets, I mean we did, but she wasn't keen on it at all. But my father loved animals. I have a video of him on his last New Years Day. He was outside filming, it was eerily quiet but you could hear the wind. It was a cold, grey day. There in his yard was the neighbors dog, just coming over to visit him. He talked to her, spoke to that dog. I loved him for that...for his love of animals, for understanding mine.
Once I had a phone call from him. He had just watched "Gorillas in the Mist". He called to say I needed to watch it, that he thought of me, saw me in that movie.
He has been an inspiration to me all of my life. His strength, determination, charisma, charm, and talent have influenced me in every area of my life. A person never forgets their parents. He will be with me always, until the day I die and there after I'm sure. I think of him every day, not a day goes by that I don't.
Sometimes on a rare occasion I think I see him, I mean it's someone who looks like him. Funny, just lately I saw someone who looked like him when he was old. It's probably him tapping me, telling me he loves me, telling me he's sorry.
Five days before he died I was visiting and went to see a play he was in. We were in his hallway when we had our little chat. He told me he probably had about 15 more years. In reality, he had five more days. He was a year older than I am now when he died; massive heart attack, died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. According to the paramedic, he looked up at him and said, "I think this is it for me."... God!
But he was able to say good-bye to me that evening in the hallway, he said something so sweet, so special to me, his number one daughter, the rebel who caused him more worry, more heartache than my other two sisters.
I don't think I have any real regrets...no, that's not true. I have one! One night we were in St. Louis at a bar where there was live music and he asked me to dance...I didn't. He really wanted me to and I didn't. Damn stupid religious beliefs I had, damn stupid me. Next time I dance, I'll do one for you dad!
I'm pretty proud of myself, I spoke at his funeral. It was difficult, but I knew I had to do it. Damn, it was difficult. I sat on the floor in the bathroom of our hotel room the night before his funeral, it was pretty late, and I sat there, on that cold tile floor and wrote down what I would say. I don't remember much about what I wrote, I only remember a couple of things. I used my love of interior design as a metaphor of him... I said that you want a space that people either love, or hate, but never something they're bored with. That was my dad, you either loved him or hated him, but you weren't bored with him--ever!
At the end of my eulogy, I quoted a part of the lyrics "Wind Beneath My Wings"... And I'll do so again...
Here's to you dad...I still miss you, still want you around...and will always love you!
Pegala
Did you ever know that you're my hero
and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.
It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it.
I would be nothing without you.
