This morning, I woke up to a text from one of my best friend’s husband letting me know that her daddy has passed away at 3 o’clock in the morning. Honestly? I didn’t know the man from Adam, but here’s what I do know: He had a wife and three daughters whom he loved and loved him back, all of of whom spent the last brutal weeks, days, hours, and minutes of his life with him as they helped him cross over to The Brighter Side. He gave his family the utmost and highest PRIVILEGE of getting to grieve for him.
Meanwhile, after having received yet another most epic of not so impeccable gunfires from “dear ole dad” at just a little past midnight, I texted my sister as soon as I woke up to let her know what he had sent me:
He’s gross. Literally, at 3am this morning one of my best friends from childhood, Lisa, was WITH her mom and and sisters as her dad was crossing over. He’d been sick and battling for months and this last week was brutal for all of them. His entire family was with him through this last part, though, surrounding him with love as he moved on to the BEST part of his already epic story. Meanwhile, what will WE get? Onions. We’ll get a bag of fucking yellow ONIONS! Well, at least that’s what I’ll have. A giant bag of yellow onions which are the ones that make you cry the most so that I can do my best acting job EVER for my mother and son’s sake. As she was going through this awful process with her dad this last week with having to make the really tough family decisions that no one ever wants to make … like … shutting off the oxygen machine, removing feeding tubes, then bringing him back home to die in some kind of “peace”, I just kept trying to picture dad in that scene and at least TRY to find some type of emotion or guilt or reason to want to care about what either happens or doesn’t happen with “IT“, I just couldn’t do it. Zero. I got ZERO! Just onions. The same thing happened a couple of months ago when Tonya and the girls were sending Betty “Home”. I actually got to be there for part of the last process, hold her hand, thank her for the gift of her son who I got to love, then say my goodbyes and CRY. But again, when I tried picturing dad laying in HER place, I couldn’t feel a thing. GROSS! It’s all so GROSS!
For the record and for those of you who are new here and don’t already know the “what I’ve done” to be so ashamed of mentioned in his text, “what I’ve done” to my “father who’s dying” is cut ties with him completely because of his abuse, disdain, and putrid disrespect for my mother, son, and future daughter-in-law.
And so, with that, I will now proceed with my own regularly scheduled legacy building plan to leave behind a treasure trove of a little more “Agreement One” style virtual love letters to my babies so that when that bittersweet day finally comes that they have to carry me down the aisle, they won’t have to be packing yellow onions. Pray God.
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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