Once upon a time, there was a little redheaded boy, named BW, born to a man who was figuring out his life and a woman who took on Responsibility as if it were created only for her. BW was the cutest kid you have ever seen – flaming orange hair. Technically he qualified a redhead, but a true artist would say the blazing orange of a sunset, the heat from a roaring bonfire, and the best mix of ketchup and mustard for sublime tator tot dipping. BW was the apple of his daddy’s eye. Life had some struggles but all seemed smooth when along came another baby – a teeny tiny little girl, with large, dark eyes and dimples that could melt even the most frigid. Sweetheart, she was called by both her mommy and daddy. It was clear from the beginning that she would be the star of her mommy’s story. The family seemed ablaze – full of life and love. But, as with all tales of wisdom, these two young people could not make it work. They fought and created cuts, scabs and scars in each other, until the bond broke, and the two children of fury and flame were left in the middle.
Fast forward over the next 15 years. BW and Sweetheart were best friends. Daddy remarried and adopted two older sons. Mommy remarried and had another baby – with large dark eyes fringed by lashes so dark, they appeared to be cut from a single piece of cloth. Growing up was difficult – between parents fighting, new marriages blooming, and all-American families blending. Needless to say, roads diverged. Sweetheart and BW lost their friendship, and Sweetheart stopped calling, coming to family functions, ceasing to exist in the world they had created.
Fast forward 15 more years. Daddy gets sick. It appears as though it is an intestinal blockage. But it is that C word. That horrible life taker, misery maker, leaving questions in its wake. But Daddy beats it! He comes out the other side, where esophageal cancer is waiting. Again, he fights his battle. His head held high, hope and humor his armor. One day, Daddy starts cursing like a sailor. Trying to escape his house. Forgetting his phone number. It appears this battle cannot be won. That damned C word has taken refuge in his brain, on his adrenal gland, in his bones.
For the last weeks of Daddy’s life, Sweetheart stayed by his side. Washing his face, sharing stories, holding his hand, watching old Westerns. BW joins and the two converge on memory lane where the 3 Musketeers roam once more. Where life seems to have a vintage quality but the characters are more grown up, mature, and facing a mountain of pain and despair. That mountain they will climb as a two-some, as BW and Sweetheart, because Daddy is now in the sky, illuminating the mountain with his brilliant rays, casting out demons, cleansing, warming the soul and shining from the laugh lines and dimples, bouncing off that beautiful orange hair.
This is where “control” doesn’t exist. In this land, there is no word for it. There is only day-by-day. A journey of remembrance. In this world, it is apparent where “control” misled, demanded, judged, forced, and demeaned. And it is in this world where love and laughter, living side by side, accepting people as they come that exists. The message is simple – Love and Be Loved.
I miss you Daddy. I only needed “One More Night” or “Another Day in Paradise” to see your “True Colors”. I “Can’t Stop Loving You” with this “Groovy Kind of Love”. “You’ll Be in My Heart”.
<Phil Collins and Genesis are a family favorite. Please listen to these songs and honor my Daddy.>
