Let me start by thanking each of you for being patient with me. My dad died last month, which I’m told is an improper statement because it makes people uncomfortable, and I haven’t been my happy, full of fun-loving writing self that explains to everyone how not to be an asshole because I’ve already done it wrong. I live vicariously through you all.
Basically, it’s taken a lot of internal contemplation about life as we know it, meditation, and of course, shots, to figure out how to move on and continue on my destined journey to change the world for the good while determining the best way to make my millions. It’s really about balance.
That being said, and realizing words are important, I feel as though I need to help you understand the longest week in my entire world. Not only did I spend every waking minute with my mother, the whole family hung out for what I think Hallmark producers, or possibly Tyler Perry, might want to buy my script. See, millions in the making.
Picture it, Michigan, 2021. A small thirteen hundred square foot home in the suburbs. The temperatures surged twenty degrees above normal. One step outdoors meant a sweaty forehead, stinky armpits, and of course, swamp ass. Ask a friend if you are unaware of this reference.
The first twenty-four hours was the longest; primarily because the five of us had only slept for two of them. We were a bit gitty to say the least. The sassy humor and sarcasm flowed faster than an avalanche in Siberia. Even mother had some quick wit in her language. Day two and into day three of the longest week in the world started to turn toward disaster.
Mother was back to her well-loved behavior. To the point that my spouse turned to me and said, “I’m going to Starbucks,” while pulling invisible daggers out of her eyeballs. Do you even know how to order one? “I’ll figure it out!” There must have been a pretty long line, because the coffee shop that was only three blocks away, took her two hours with no gourmet coffee cup in hand upon her return.
Even my super-tough, far-too-in-shape-for-his-age older brother turned to “Yes Mommy” responses on more occasions than I would like to admit and I found the destruction of the wooden wheelchair ramp in ninety-degree heat with eighty percent humidity quite satisfying. Hence, the swamp ass.
But I truly think the topper of the week was my sister-in-law’s news. She explained to all of us that after receiving her gene-pool saliva test results, she’s got a smidge (this is a technical term) of Congolese in her ancestry. You need to understand that I am not mocking her heritage, I’m mocking the fact that she is, well, very Caucasian in every aspect you can think of. So, when she learned of her DNA lineage, let’s just say, we may have had to remind her that some conversations should remain private and can in fact get one pee’d upon if spoken in the wrong crowd of people.
Over the course of the week, we all helped each other ease the pain of a loved one lost. The five of us, yes mother too, stuck together. We laughed. We cried. We laughed some more at the sister-in-law and worked through a lot of past emotions that had hindered our relationship as a family. We are stronger now, all thanks to Frank.
Love you, Dad.
Love you 💜