My Dad passed away a year ago… today actually.

My feelings are mixed when diving into this subject. I miss him. Do I miss him every day? I would be lying if I said yes. I don’t. Is that bad? I don’t know. I miss my mom too. Every day? Again. No. But they are in my heart. And will be until the day I die.

My life with them was complicated, as alluded to on here, several times if I’m not mistaken. The last years though, saw me, perhaps, grow as a person, a son, and a man.

Have I made them proud since they passed? No, probably not, although I would like to think that some of my actions had them thinking of me proudly.

A song came to mind today, by Eminem, called Walk on Water. The lyrics really speak to me, and some of them I can directly relate to.

Why, are expectations so high?
Is it the bar I set?
My arms, I stretch, but I can’t reach
A far cry from it, or it’s in my grasp, but as
Soon as I grab, squeeze
I lose my grip like the flying trapeze
Into the dark, I plummet
Now the sky’s blackening, I know the mark’s high
Butter-flies rip apart my stomach
Knowing that no matter what bars I come with
You’re gonna hark, gripe, and that’s a hard Vicodin to swallow
So I scrap these, as pressure increases, like khakis
I feel the ice cracking

My life. My own personal demons.

I have written about this in the past I am sure, that a friend with whom I am no longer in contact with, told me that I set my own bar so high that I have a hard time living up to me, and that people around me, at times, struggle to live up to me, living up to me.

Anyhow, life is, life is. You know?

I do miss you Dad, and of course you too Mom. My life is just not the same without you being there, even if it was as it was when you were alive the last few years.

I’m sorry for all the disappointments, and the failures.

But, I’m trying to get better.

My love, forever and always,

Your son,

Peace.

a lot of things. LOL.

but, people, some of you think, that i need to heal. perhaps i do. not sure.

i think that i have become so adept at burying the shit that should bother me, and only deal with (mostly) daily life that a ‘healing journey’ as one of you put it, isn’t something that becomes part of my makeup.

we all need to heal, right? transgression of friends, family, bosses, what have you. being scorned or hurt by those we thought were more than what they really turned out to be. being used by others, and being shunned by flesh and blood.

do i need to heal from any of that? probably. not smart enough to know where or how to start though, so i go merrily along, creating a wake of hurt, confusion and remorse as i go.

a fucking dick i was called recently. huh. not a new one, but not one that has been associated with me for a while. years actually if, well, ever.

told that my son, youngest, does not want to talk to me. no reason given, although i suspect, perhaps wrongly, and if so my apologies, that his mother or grandmother are behind this. cunts both of them at any rate.

not sure, well, no, that’s not true, i am sure about how people see me at large. someone who smiles, knows a thing or two about a thing or two, and spends money. but you see, while the public persona perhaps is this ‘hail fellow well met’ jackanape, the private one just isn’t that.

this will sound like an excuse, because i do know that i should write more, as it cleans out the junk that is ambling about my brain, but i don’t want to just pour out the same old tripe. my life is what it is, and what it is is, somewhat of a mess at times, and others, well, less messy.

do i need to heal? yeah, i do. from a lot, nay, myriad things.

journey of a thousand miles starts with one step though, right?

thanks for being here, and i do, as always hope that you and yours are not in any area of conflict.

and, as always, i bid you,

peace.

when you are facing the mortality of others, in comparison to your own.

i watched my parents fade away, and took the calls of their passing, and all the time that i was their caregiver of sorts, their own demises really never entered into my thought process, and when they did pass, i know that in my mom’s case, i got on the phone and notified governments, and credit card companies, and wrote emails and then her obituary.

but faced with mine, my thoughts turn to, well, ok. like i said to my father when he was questioning or worried about what would happen after he was gone… ‘who cares, you will be dead’ was my response. he laughed at that for the record.

who cares. you will be dead.

indeed.

i don’t have a ‘bucket list’ and think them to be a waste of time and frivolous.

do i have things that i wished to have accomplished? i’m sure i do, but to name them? it would be a struggle.

regrets? sure i do as does everyone i am sure. and, for that matter, i have written about them on here.

do i wish that i was a better person? husband? father? yes. unequivocally and resoundingly, yes.

will i leave a legacy behind? who knows. perhaps.

but, then again, who cares, you will be dead.

truer words have never been spoken.

peace.

my 62nd birthday a few days ago. 62 years. SIXTY TWO Years!! Sorry, invoking Jeremy Piven in Grosse Pointe Blank there a little. LOL.

anyhow, yes, 62. huh.

quite a lot has transpired since i last had a birthday. it’s been a year, that’s for sure.

my father died. that was a biggie. still haven’t really grieved, for him or my mom, at least i don’t think i have. grief is a funny thing, is it not?

my brother stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from the trust through an act of fraud and forgery. so, there’s that. needless to say i don’t have any communication him or his wife any longer. although both of them did reach out on my birthday, but i think more to assuage (nice word eh what?) their guilty consciences more than wishing me well, but hey, A for effort one supposes. didn’t respond because that would only give verity to their communications.

i moved from my little burg to the big city. jury is still out on that perhaps travesty of something or other. contemplating a move actually. small town, new province. let’s see said the blind man.

met some interesting people and ghosted even more. and the ones i ghosted, i hope are doing well, i truly do.

did some traveling, with more to come.

made some investments, hopefully they pay off.

and on my birthday, funny enough alone, i drove 14 1/2 hours down east. why you ask? no effing idea says me. well, yes, clients, and looking at property, but at 730AM i mused to myself whilst muddling through GTA traffic, i could have flown. LOL.

anyhow, i was going over this post in my head, because, well, not a whole lot else to do, and came to the conclusion that while things haven’t always been the best over the last number, i am healthy for the most part, i have clothes on my back, food sort of, in the fridge, and there are some good people in my life, albeit ones who see me as a person who spends, and not overly for me. Still and all though, there are people in this world who are not doing well, and my life, when put in the same light, isn’t so bad.

so here i am, 62, and with all that, still myself alone, but on the right side of the grass. which, isn’t a bad thing.

not easy being me. LOL.

peace.

watching an old TV show called ‘Scrubs’. not sure if you are familiar with it, and i am sure that some of you will not be.

at any rate, overall it is a funny show, sort of like M*A*S*H that has humour with an undercurrent of angst and self discovery.

for the most part i’m good with it all, but with the one year anniversary of my father’s passing, a few of the episodes, or episode arcs, have brought on emotions that i usually like to keep buried.

one of the main characters lost his brother-in-law, and another main character, lost his father. this of course brought on some tears.

maybe, just maybe, i’m not Superman after all.

peace.

what hurts us,

then how can we heal?

a bit. well, more than a bit, but not as much as some fellow travellers that i meet on my journeys.

sitting on a short hop (1 hour) flight this morning from Poland to Denmark, i was thinking about my mom and dad.

also, sitting here in the lounge in Copenhagen, not my most favourite, not the worst though, i again have to state that backpacks are the fucking worst things ever. not their fault, just the fucking morons that wear them and have no idea that they are taking up more space than they should, or bumping into people. once again proving that we, humanity, suck.

anyhow, early hours musings about my parents.

i spent the week with my son, being a Dad. a great week for both of us to honest. my son is such a great kid, but as i said to his mother, i know why you drink. LOL.

but in all honesty, this past week was quite amazing.

before i go on though, a friend lost her father this week, way too young at 63, and my condolences go out to her and her family. he was only 2 years older than i am right now, so way too young to go.

she will get through it though, as she is stronger than she thinks.

back though, to my parents. it’s been a year and a bit since i lost my mom. no, since we all lost my mom. and six months since i lost my father. i say i, because well, i am, along with my son, the remaining male members of our family. my brother is no longer my family. harsh words yes, and bad karma on me i am sure, but he is a fucking asshole, and not worth my thoughts, my love, or any airtime whatsoever. that goes for his wife, and his dog for that matter.

i miss my mom. she was a lot stronger than she thought. she kept our family together, as best as she could, and that, given the personalities involved.

my interactions with her over the last few years of her life were limited given the fact that she was bedridden and spent most, a lot of her time, sleeping. and i was only there for a week at a time, so it made it not hard, but less easy to have the relationship with her as i did with my father. doesn’t make the time i spent there though, with her, less meaningful, because i was given the privilege of being able to see my mom over the last year and a half of her life. so, powers that be, thank you for giving me that gift.

and as a note, listening to BB King right now, with Susan Tedeschi, singing ‘You are my Sunshine’ and my thoughts turn to my mom, who used to sing that to me as a child. tears folks, tears indeed. I miss you mom. Rest in Peace, and don’t let Dad piss you off too much. LOL

and now, musings turn towards my father. why? because as i mentioned earlier, i got to be a Dad, a single parent, this week. and you know what? i think i did ok. i did parent teacher meetings, i got my son up and ready for school. i made his lunch, i did laundry, i cooked. and we had a blast.

i am not a typical parent. don’t really consider myself a parent really. just the guy who pays the bills for the most part, but i really think i did ok.

anyhow, my father and i, had a complicated relationship. not overly loving at times, pretty contentious for a great deal of the time, but in his last years, while there were outbursts and flare ups, two days in February of ’22 come to mind, we became better friends, even sliding towards father and son.

like this past week with my son, who, by the way, has an opinion, ON EVERYTHING, by the way, my father who was opinionated as well, we had conversations that ranged from what was going on in the world, (he fussed about the length of women’s hair for some strange reason) to sports, to no trusting my brother (good reasons for that indeed) to travel.

i miss my father. more than i think i am willing to admit, and at times will look at my phone, almost willing it to ring.

you don’t know what you’ve got until its gone. true that, true bloody that.

rest in peace Dad. i love you, and miss you more than you know.

thanks for teaching me more than you think i learned, and hopefully i was able to give my son, some of what you gave me.

with my love, always,

amused? baffled? amazed? at how people dress these days.

walking around the streets, people in slippers, pajamas, and myriad versions of those stupid UGG things, which by the by, my mother brought me back a pair of 40, yes, 40, actually more than 40 years ago. and those stupid fucking Blundstones. Worst fucking footwear ever, imho. LOL

But today, I speak not of the street, but of the airport, and in specific airport lounges.

Why do people, parents, allow their children to come in to a lounge wearing their nightwear? And why, I ask you, do grown men insist on wearing fucking baseball hats on their heads? And backwards at that?

Yes, guilty of walking in here, and trust me, I fly a lot so I do have some empirical data to draw on, with a hoodie on. I fly first flight usually, so at 4am you throw on what you see first. But, of late, and thank you to my stylist DB and others, SVS as well, I have taken to wearing a jacket when I travel. Just feels right, you know? And also thank you to Stanley Tucci for this as well.

Anyhow, people have no sense of decorum anymore. When did we, as a society give up on actually looking like we belong in the public? And while I am on the subject, can we put a rule in to stop people from walking around with their eyes glued to their fucking phones?

Tried recently to walk away from this life, and if I didn’t have boy, no one, and I mean no one would see me again.

People say sorry. People say a lot of things. And yet people keep asking, hinting, walking around a subject.

One thing that outlook does not have, that gmail does, is a block feature. Oh were it so.

But back to the way people dress. It’s shameful to be honest. Here we are, claiming that we are better than the animals, or people in other countries perhaps less fortunate than we are, and yet we dress like we just woke up.

And, speaker phones. Fuck me sideways Bob. People walk around talking into their phones, like there isn’t anyone else near them. Fucking idiot woman did on the elevator yesterday. Like we need to hear your conversation you fucking ignorant cunt. Put the fucking phone to your ear, or hey, here’s an idea. Call your equally idiotic and ignorant contact back when you are home.

I fear for our society. We fucking suck.

/end rant

Peace.

Bob.

to my life recently. this morning as it happens.

CLP745.

when i was younger, and probably less stupid than i am now, i was told by my parents at the tender age of 6, that i was going to take piano lessons. why? because the kid across the street (shawn mcgill for reference, who tattled on me twice for swearing. yes, zest in the mouth folks. asshole. LOL) took them.

no says i. well yes, says they. we already bought the piano.

i never practiced. and yet i managed to make my way to grade 10 in the royal conservatory ranks. who knew? all that at the age of 14.

and, i basically quit.

why? see the aforementioned stupid comment.

fast forward to 2009 when a 1959 Yamaha upright arrived into my orbit.

that is gone now. along with so many other ‘things’.

fast forward again to last year when boys mother tells me that both boy and she want to take piano lessons, and well, would i mind ‘helping’ out with the purchase of an electric apartment sized piano. no keyboard for them. they have to have a piece of furniture.

but, boy does get immense pleasure from it, and apparently he is doing well with his lessons, so…

and now, we come to today. into my life the above mentioned CLP745.

two things bring me joy. well, ok, more than two, but two that come to the fore.

a certain pair of eyes, staring into mine. and where i get lost. and music. music that comes from my fingers. i am loathe to say heart or soul because we all know that i am not in possession of either.

how i have missed the privilege of being able to create sounds that come so organically. if i had a soul perhaps i would be brought to tears. LOL.

the keyboard sits proudly at one end of my living space, like it almost has always been there. it beckons me like a siren of the sea beckons a sailor.

thank you, mom and dad, my undying, better late than never thanks, and immense gratitude, for making this stupid kid take lessons, and giving him the outlet for a gift that was truly given by a higher power, and therefore allowing it to pass to another generation.

i miss you, more than you know. and now with the ability to create music once more at hand, one more way for you to stay alive with me, forever.

with tears, and my undying love for you,

your son,