Phone calls were made; messages sent. If you want to say goodbye to Butch… today’s the day.
Tonight will be the night that we
Begin to ease the plugs out of the dam
And we will stand knee deep in the flow
The undertow will grab our heels
And won’t let go
Everything had gone so wrong for so long that mother nature threw us a bone, gave us one more perfect, warm, blue-bird spring day.
Our last one.
The father of the first friend I made in kindergarten brought a guitar. My dad and him played music together and supported each others bands for decades, watched their sons play drums in middle and high school jazz band, watched one of their sons go on to be the touring drummer for Sting, and the other be the dope writing this.
Dave smiled and said, “Butch, I know you’re gonna kill me for singing in the wrong key but that’s how it’s gonna be, you’re just gonna have to forgive me. I know you’re singing along anyway, and you know these songs better than I do, so cut me some slack.”
On a beautiful April morning, in the living room of the house my old man built Dave played and sang Beatles songs for my dad as he lay in his hospital bed. My mom and I stood arm in arm behind Dave, behind the couch, holding each other, crying, so touched; a beautiful, terrible moment, perfect and unbelievably painful.
The neighbor’s houses were full of those respectfully waiting their turn to see Butch, in the yards and on the decks. The hospice nurse came in the afternoon and had to park 2 blocks away. She said, I’m walking down the street and from every house they’re all, like, shouting encouraging things and asking questions, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. This… isn’t how this usually goes.
My sister, smiling through tears, said, That’s just 16th street.
Friends, family, characters – each carrying a beautiful story – came to his door, crushed. We understood, as much as we could, did our best so that they might have their moments with their old friend, boss, protege, hockey teammate, arrest-er, softball teammate, pool partner, golf buddy, surfing buddy, brother-in-blue, band mate, hero, role model, uncle, brother.
GrandDude.
Husband.
Father.
Dad.
My dad.
I had to say goodbye.
Forever.
I wasn’t ready.
I’d never be ready.
But the window was closing.
And while we hold,
Our legs quivering,
The water rises now to our teeth
I couldn’t tell you the pretext under which this happened but I found myself with two cousins smoking a joint at the bay. It was late afternoon, evening. It was warm, the sun was in the sky but on its way out. The three of us at the bay. Where we fished, swam, seined, with all of our fathers.
It fuckin’ sucked.
It sucked but it was also beautiful and we did it, the three of us talked and cried and hugged and walking back up the block I knew I needed to keep moving my feet until we got to our yard and then I had to walk up the stairs through the front door and sit next to my dad and hold his hand
touch him
be there
tell him
When we just let go
And sail
Belly up to the clouds
The rocks scraping our backs
To breathe in the air will be the only thing that we have
Dad
I want to say
Thank You
Thank You for everything
I’m literally everything that I am because of you: my body, my mind, this house that you raised me in; I’m vaguely athletic, and whatever musical ability I have clearly comes from you, I got all of the good parts of you, Dad, all the good parts of Mom, I’m so lucky. I have no right to be proud because I didn’t have anything to do with it but I’m proud to be your son
I promise we’ll be ok. We will. You’ve been so brave for so long – we’re going to miss you – forever – but we’ll be ok. We’ll be strong, because of you. I promise I’ll look after Mom, and Erin – not that she needs it – and Rob and Lily and Maggie. Lily is Little Butch and just like you she’s gonna get us through –
You’re the reason I want to have kids, Dad, I saw how happy I made you, how proud you were – I promise I’ll make you proud, I’ll live a life that you’ll be proud of, I know all you’ve ever wanted me to be was Happy, so I’m going to be Happy, Dad, I will –
– from the corners of his closed eyes I saw water; I wiped it away –
– hey, hey, Dad it’s ok, it’s ok, Dad I see you, I know you’re there, I see you, it’s ok, it’s ok, Dad I love you, I love you, it’s ok, I’ll be ok, we’ll all be ok, we’ll miss you so much but we’ve got each other, we’ll be ok because of you, we’ll be strong
We’re going to miss you so much, Dad. We’ll be ok. We’ve got each other. You’ve taught us everything, you’ve given us everything. We’ll be ok, we love you, I love you Dad. I’m right here, I’ll be right here, we’re all right here, I’m here, we’re here, right here
I held his hand.
I told my family, “He’s still here, he can still hear you; we have to keep talking to him.”
I kinda had to verify I wasn’t just making shit up because the guy hadn’t opened his eyes in 48 hours, which meant I had to explain to everyone my private moment with my father, which I don’t begrudge – they were as entitled to hear this as he was. All it took was 35 years and a hard deadline.
But it proved that he was still here, and that he was still listening, and everyone needed to know that; the window was closing.
And all the wasted nights
And empty moments in our lives
Flushed away as we sway
with the rhythm
of the waves
bobbing us up
Crests fall to troughs
Feel our gills open up
And if the hook sets in the bottom of our lungs
We’ll rip it out and lick the blood off with our tongues
The nurse told us it was almost Time. She said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you called me in a few hours.” but in a really sweet way that had us smiling, crying, and nodding. She was great; we literally met her that afternoon, at our absolute worst, and she took care of every one of us.
She said, “I almost never cry but you guys are killing me,” wiping tears. There was a lot of that going around.
She said there were signs to watch for: sudden movements, bursts of energy; change in body temperature as blood flow shuts down; skin color draining into a yellow, pallid collapse – you’ll know, you’ll see.
Everything was an exponential curve. The time I thought we had fell away, months to weeks to days to hours to
Just breathe Dad,
we’re right here,
we love you,
we’re here,
we’re right here,
just breathe Dad,
just breathe
My mom, sister, brother-in-law, myself, and Dad. In his home, the one that he literally built with his brothers and father over the summer of ’93 while working as a full time police officer in a beach town; the house he physically built so he could be closer to his work, so that he could spend more time with his family; the family that he loved so much, the family that loved him back so, so much; the machine was feeding him oxygen, he was relaxed for the first time in fucking forever; The Beatles were on; Let It Be…Naked on repeat, only getting through a few cycles before I saw his jaw move side to side, almost imperceptible and I looked around and no one else saw so when his breathing accelerated or slowed down or whatever it did I said, Ma… Ma! and she looked and me and I said, Ma…. and we just talked to him, told him how much we loved him, and how much we’d miss him, and how lucky we were, we all were, to have loved each other for so long in person and somewhere between Let It Be and Don’t Let Me Down his chest rose and then just didn’t do anything else ever again and we checked the pulse reader on his finger but the device literally read every movement his finger made at all whether it was his heart or us frantically shaking him so I put two fingers to his neck and my mom said, “Can you feel anything?!” and I said, “I’ve only seen them do this shit on TV, I don’t know what I’m doing!” and I could just hear him laughing, I’m right here you smacked asses as he half-laughed his way away from us, forever, or at least for the rest of my life.
There are songs – or poems, or whatever – that matter. Most don’t, and that’s fine; who cares. But some do.
A little before he died we sat next to him and his hospital bed and I said, Dad, there’s some words I want you to hear.
I read,
Despair can ravage you if you turn your head around
And look down the path that’s led you here
Because what can you change?
You’re a vessel now, floating down the waterways
You can take your rudder and aim your ship;
Just don’t bother with the things left in your wake
Just sail
Belly up to the clouds
The rocks scraping your back
To the breathe in the air
Will be the only thing that you have
And your love will be warm nights
With pockets of moonlight
Spotlighting you
As you drift
The actor in this play
And you walk across the stage
Take a bow and hear the applause
And as the curtain falls
Just know you did it all
The best that you knew how
And you can hear them cheering now
So let a smile out
And show your teeth
‘Cause you know you lived it well