eleemosynary

Maybe I was just procrastinating the inevitable writing of the eulogy but I decided that while I was in Long Beach, I would once again stop by my dad's house.

It's becoming a daily ritual. I drive over there. Pick up his mail. And start figuring out what we are going to do with his stuff.

I'm also concerned that if I don't go over there on a regular basis, someone will break in and steal whatever they can find.

I quickly identify all of the bills that have come in and launch all of the NRA and political donation crap that he gets. The phone bill from Verizon is due. I rip it open and can not believe how much his phone is. Jesus, get a better frickin' phone plan!

There are lots of long distance calls here. I wonder if I should give them a call?

I call a number that had at least $200 of charges to it. I hate calling people on the phone. It makes me nervous for some reason. But I dial anyway.

It sounds like this may be a fax number. I assume it is his lawyer's fax number. I know that he had spent quite a bit of time putting his will and trust together. Another mystery to solve another time.

I start poking around some more and I find a box full of checks. They are for an account that I've never seen before and from a bank that I didn't know he banked at.

The checks had his name on it and the phrase "Eleemosynary Fund."

I stared at these checks for a long time. I've never heard of an Eleemosynary Fund. My dad had never talked about this.

For whatever reason, this find disturbs me. Only because over the last 4 months, he's told me where everything was at. I know where all of his accounts are. I know how much is in them. And he never told me about this account.

I leave the checks in the hall closet where I found them.

It's time to go home and finally write what I'm going to say tomorrow.

VW

Islands in the Stream

When I was 13, I locked myself in the bathroom to avoid going to my grandma's church.

My dad tried to talk me out of the bathroom but I just feigned some intestinal issues in order to escape my usual Sunday destination.

It was the last time anyone tried to make me go to church.

It's not that I didn't like the people or that I had a different opinion then theirs. I'm just a private person that doesn't believe in sharing whatever my faith may be with others.

And that didn't fly in this church.

But when it came down to finding someone to officiate by dad's services, it didn't seem right to just write a check for $175 and have the funeral home set it up.

That's why I asked Mr. Stream to do it.

Mr. Stream and his wife have been friends with my grandmother for 30+ years. He isn't a pastor or a priest but he's a senior member of my grandma's church and he knew my father. So, Number 2 and I went to his house the night before the services to talk a little bit about what we wanted.

My fear was that Mr. Stream might take the opportunity to make this service more about God and less about my dad.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I was hoping that we could get the Jesus-y factor to about a 3. Just enough to keep my grandma happy and not enough to start making me uncomfortable.

Mr. Stream and his wife live across from California State University, Long Beach. It's kind of funny to me that two people with such a strong Christian faith have the CSULB pyramid as part of their view.

We got there around dinner time but neither one of us was very hungry. Mr. Stream insisted that we sit down to eat while his wife worked on multiple courses in the kitchen.

Mr. Stream is a short, stocky fellow but looks younger than his actual age. I find out that he was originally from Puerto Rico and had lived in California for the last 40 years. He puts on his glasses and opens a small notebook.

Mrs. Stream brings us a "salad" - iceberg lettuce with a tomato cut in quarters. Number 2 and I do the exact same thing. We eat the lettuce and leave the tomatoes in the bowl.

We both hate tomatoes, just like our dad did.

Mr. Stream asks us a little bit about our dad. He mentions again that he had seen him on the Wednesday before he died. He also talks about getting ready to visit my grandparents at the river. He will be baptizing my uncle. And if my grandfather doesn't watch out, they are going to try to baptize him too.

I'm feeling the Jesus-y factor starting to rise.

Mrs. Stream brings out a plate of beans and rice and some sort of meat. I'm honestly not sure what it is and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to eat something that is not going to agree with me.

Mr. Stream continues to discuss what we'd like to share about our dad. And then, he surprises me by basically saying that he won't get all Jesus-y on me (of course, he didn't say it like that).

I finally exhale and feel better about our decision to have him officiate. I start to work on the plate in front of me and I get my second surprise in under 30 seconds.

This traditional Puerto Rican dinner is really good.

Dessert is right around the corner and it is peaches with Cool Whip.

We wrap up the meal and our conversation. I'm struck by the genuine kindness that Mr. and Mrs. Stream have shown us. It truly has come out of nowhere for me.

Mr. Stream walks us to the door and lets us know that he'll see us tomorrow.

Number 2 and I each go to our respective cars. He'll be over in the morning so we can drive to the funeral together.

VW

The Treasure of the Sierra Padre

There was quite a bit of activity at my house upon my return.

Number 2 was there playing with the Chicken. Big Daddy and my mother-in-law were also there and they had brought over Nerdle, the Commander's younger sister. The Commander was right behind me with the first of many treasures that I would find over the next couple of months.

The memory display that she had created for my dad was complete and it was time for the big reveal.

Number 2's voice cracked as he looked at all of the pictures that the Commander's team had put together.

"It's perfect."

And it really was perfect. It was such a loving tribute not only to my dad but my entire family.

I have always felt like I was part of the Commander's family but today was the first day that I really felt that the Commander was a part of mine.

There is a picture on this display that I love. It was taken in 1972 at Disneyland. It's just me and my dad and we are on King Arthur Carrousel in Fantasyland. I think that the Chicken and I will have to take a picture in the same location sometime soon (but I won't have her go on the Carrousel, they freak her out).

While everyone was chatting about anything except for my dad's funeral, I started to go through some of the boxes that I had already retrieved from my dad's house.

I almost immediately stumbled on a video tape that had my dad's name on it.

I took to the tape into the computer room and quickly tried to decide if I was going to watch it or not.

The tape could have something totally disturbing on it.

Or the tape could be a message from beyond.

I pressed play on the VCR and quickly thought to myself, "Pleasedon'tbeahomemadesextape.Pleasedon'tbeahomemadesextape.Pleasedon'tbeahomemadesextape.Pleasedon'tbeahomemadesextape."

A time code on the tape reveals that this was shot 5 years ago. It looks like some sort of conference room with flip charts everywhere.

In the center of the frame, there is a podium.

And after about 20 seconds, my dad walks up to that podium.

Over the last six days, I've seen a ton of pictures of my dad. But now he's on my television screen. He's living and breathing.

And he's getting ready to speak.

I have no idea what this video is.

He reaches for a glass of water, takes a sip, and begins to speak.

He's nervous and now I'm nervous for him.

He begins his presentation and it slowly becomes clear to me what this video tape REALLY is.

My dad is in a presentation skills class.

It is so ironic because just a month ago, I went through a similar class at my work. And I now have a very similar video tape to the one that I'm watching.

I find myself getting caught up in his presentation. He is funny and his delivery is smooth. He has won over everyone that is in the room with his presentation.

He has won me over with his presentation.

And then I realize...he's better than me at this. That makes me laugh.

The presentation ends and he starts to get feedback from the facilitator and all of the class participants. I nearly pass out from laughing when my dad responds to the feedback that he made great eye contact with everyone by removing his glasses and saying, "Well, that's funny. Because I can't see any-fucking-one of you."

Laughter fills the room on the video tape and before I know it, the screen goes blue.

That's the end of the tape.

I hit the rewind button, wipe my eyes, and go find the Commander.

It's time to share this treasure from my father with her.

VW

Sucks to be me

One night when I was about 15, my dad and I were driving on the 710 freeway in his El Camino during a pretty significant thunderstorm. We were in the fast lane when the unmistakable sound of screeching brakes drowned out the sounds of the Little River Band cassette playing in our car.

I looked to the right and saw a car spinning out of control.

My dad hit the gas but I still had a front row seat to this accident playing out right before my eyes. The car began to spin in a counter-clockwise motion. The headlights blinding me on every rotation. What took maybe three seconds to occur seemed to take three hours as my mind slowed this accident down like something you might see in a Sam Peckinpah film.

Before I realized it, we were moving on past this scene. I looked over to my dad. He had one eye on the road and another eye looking in the rear view mirror.

My dad felt my stare, looked at me, and shared what could only be the most appropriate way to summarize the last 10 seconds.

"Sucks to be him."

Right now, I feel like that driver that I saw crash 20 years ago. I was in control of my life 6 days ago.

And then my dad died.

And then the spinning started.

And now, it sucks to be me.

I still had quite a bit to do today but others are definitely helping me out. The memory board that my wife is putting together with her older sister and a friend from work will be completed later. Big Daddy has made arrangements for lemon meringue pie for the reception after the funeral. And speaking of the reception, the Catering Manager from the mortuary had called me back to let me know that they had come up with a solution for our slight timing problem between the end of the services and the beginning of the reception.

Before making a quick pit stop at home, I stopped by the big and tall store for one last item to purchase for tomorrow.

Sunglasses.

I don't wear them. I never really have. They just don't work on my head. Glasses just look silly on me.

But I'd rather have some silly sunglasses on me than have friends and family see my eyes tomorrow.

I found a pair that "worked" on me and headed home. In less than 24 hours, my brother and I would bury our father.

I needed to figure out what to say at the funeral.

VW

Hey Mr. DJ / What's going on?

I've developed a new skill this week. If there is something that I don't want to think about anymore, I put it into a side of my brain not in use and i move on to the next thing that I need to do.

For the next hour, it's all about music.

I know what artists we will play at the funeral, I just don't know what songs. Here's what I've come up with.

We will have them play the opening theme to the Tom Selleck movie, "High Road to China" at the start of the ceremony. My dad listened to that CD every time he drove out to the river to see his parents. Number 2 pulled that one out of my dad's truck.

I want to play "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys after I speak. My dad introduced me to the Beach Boys with the album Beach Boys, Live on the Sunset Strip. I listened to that record more than any other album ever. I love Brian Wilson's solo stuff too. The guy is a nut but his work touches me like nobody else. His first solo album is the best! I like it more than Pet Sounds or Smile.

And to wrap up the services, I thought we should hear some Leon Redbone. Most people were introduced to Mr. Redbone through either his Bud commercials in the 80's or the theme song of the Bob Eucker vehicle, Mr. Belvedere. I was introduced to him when he set the record for most times as a musical performer on SNL during the '70's.

My dad also took me to a Leon Redbone concert when I was 12. It was the first concert I'd ever been to.

I didn't know his favorite song so I picked "Polly Wolly Doodle." It's a great version of an American classic. Better than the version you used to hear the frogs sing in America Sings at Disneyland.

Here's the lyrics if you're not familiar:

Well I went down south for to see my gal
Polly Wolly Doodle all the day
She got curly eyes, laughing hair
Polly Wolly Doodle all the day
Fare thee well, fare thee well,
Fare thee well my fairy fay
For I'm going to Lou'siana for to see my Susianna
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day

There's a grasshopper sitting on a railroad track
Polly Wolly Doodle all the day
Picking his teeth with a carpet tack
Polly Wolly Doodle all the day
Fare thee well, fare thee well,
Fare thee well my fairy fay
For I'm going to Lou'siana for to see my Susianna
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day

Went to a river, couldn't get across
Polly Wolly Doodle all the day
Jumped on a 'gator, thought it was a horse
Polly Wolly Doodle all the day
Fare thee well, fare thee well,
Fare thee well my fairy fay
For I'm going to Lou'siana for to see my Susianna
Sing Polly wolly doodle all the day

VW

Enter the Wood Lady

I'm less than 24 hours out from the funeral and I still have a ton of stuff to do.

I need to write out what I'm going to say tomorrow.

I need to stop by a Vans store and pick up some shoes for me to wear at the services.

I need to pick out the music that will be played at the service.

I need to go with Number 2 to meet with Mr. Stream (he and his wife showed up at our dad's house the day he passed and we've asked him to officiate the services).

So with all of this that has to get done, what do I do?

I email the Wood Lady back.

I can't really help it. My curiosity is getting the best of me. Every time I learn something about my father, it just creates that many more questions. And I know that there are plenty of questions that I just won't get an answer to.

Here's what I sent back to the Wood Lady:

Wood Lady,

Thank you very much for replying to my email. I was aware of the friendship that you and my father have had over the past few years (this, was in fact, a little lie).

My brother and I have been on quite the roller coaster ride in the past week and I'm still not able to wrap my brain around what is going on. While his passing has created a pain that I didn't know was possible, I take comfort knowing that our relationship was better than it had been in 25 years and that he had a chance to get to know his granddaughter. My wife and I are committed to ensuring that the Chicken remembers her grandfather as she gets older and I've taken his glasses and placed them on a shelf in the Chicken's room so she'll know that Grandpa is watching over her as she grows up.

You are more than welcome to attend the services on tomorrow. Also, if there is anything that my father possessed that may have sentimental value to you, please let my brother and I know and we'll see what we can do.

Thank you again for your very kind words. I know how much he cared for us and it was clear to all of us how crazy he was about the Chicken.

Me

This email brought almost an immediate response from the Wood Lady:

VW,

You are more than kind to offer me something of sentimental value of your fathers. All I really want is him back but knowing that is impossible if it is not asking to much there is a book I sent him called Sahara. It is an old book I found in an old book store. There was a movie made of it. I spent a week with him in May and we went to see the movie Sahara and had a great time. He told me he went to see it again after I left to see if we missed anything. I find myself wanting to talk about him constantly to make it all go away as I am sure you do. I just talked to him on Wednesday afternoon, begging him to go to the ER. He told me he would be fine and quit worrying so much. He had an appointment with Dr. Mike on July 26th. I'm sorry, you don't need me rattling on. I just find myself doing this to whoever will listen. I cannot eat, sleep or think as I am sure you and Number 2 are going through too. I am so glad to hear you found your relationship good as well, as he did. He was so proud of his two boys. Although he didn't like your rice burner. lol lol I will, of course be at the memorial service on Thursday at 11. This is asking a lot of you but could someone tell me the address so I can find out how to get there? Thank you. My thoughts and Prayers are with you and Number 2 and the Commander and the Chicken.

Wood Lady

Could any more questions be raised in my head by such a short email?

She had been down recently and spent time with him? Why didn't I know about this? Were we going to meet? What was this relationship all about? She talked to him on Wednesday before he died and he was feeling ill and didn't do anything about it? He was 12 days away from a seeing his cardiologist when he died? And how does she know the name of is cardiologist?

Who the hell is the Wood Lady and why am I finding out about her now?

VW

How to get great customer service

I was about to go out and get a Hawaiian shirt when the Commander volunteered to do that for me. But I was still going to need some pants.

The Commander went to the Block in Orange. The Chicken stayed at home with our nanny, Loopey. And I headed off to Men's Warehouse to find some pants that would go with a Hawaiian shirt.

(I briefly toyed with the idea of wearing shorts but decided that would have been pushing it).

The store was empty as I entered and an employee was on me in no time. He took me over to the pants section and I found a pair of linen pants that I thought would be nice.

I went to try them on and they worked but they needed to be altered.

"When can I have the pants ready?" I asked.

"Well...we're pretty busy right now. I guess I could have them finished by Saturday. Does that work for you?"

"Umm...no. You see, I was going to wear these to my father's funeral tomorrow."

"Oh, hold on just a moment."

The employee disappeared to the back and emerged with a tailor in about 20 seconds.

"Sir, we will have this ready for you in an hour."

While I changed back into my own clothes, I couldn't help thinking that I had just played the "My-Dad-Just-Died" card.

But I was pretty happy with the level of service after that.

VW

The Blind Email

It's really strange to go through somebody else's Outlook.

I had found probably a dozen email addresses in my dad's Outlook and I thought I should email those folks to let them know what has happened.

Here is what I sent out:

RE: Memorial Services for My Dad

I'm sorry if you are finding out about the passing of my father this way.

My brother and I decided to email his Outlook contact list to let everyone in it know that he passed away on Thursday, July 14th.

We will be having a memorial service for him on Thursday, July 21th at 11:00 a.m. at Rose Hills in Whittier.

It didn't take long for the responses to come in. Here's the first response:

Dear VW,
I don't know if your father ever spoke of me but my name is (the Wood Lady) and I am a friend of your fathers. I would like to extend my sympathy to your family for your loss. I cared deeply about your father and I will miss him more than words can express. He has been a very big part of my life for four years and I cannot even imagine what it is going to be like without him. He talked of your daughter the Chicken soooo often and he so adored her. He loved you two boys more than life itself. Just know that I loved him too. And he and I had a really special relationship and he was a wonderful man. Thank you so much for the information. God Bless you all.
(The Wood Lady)

Hmmmm.....that was interesting. Honestly, I had heard her name before but I've got zero clue on what was going on between her and my dad. I'm going to have to follow up with a response later.

But before I could, a couple additional emails came in too. Like this one:

Thank you for the invite to the service, for your very well liked and respected father. I knew him for over 30 years. Of all the days, in my very quiet retired life, that I am bound to be at a hearing in Nevada, it all falls on July 21, 2005.
May God Speed.

If God speeds, can somebody pull him over a give him a ticket?

I received one more email response. Here it is:

Dear VW:
Hi, So sorry to hear about your Dad. Our sincere condolences to you and your family. Thank you for the information regarding the services. I have a question about the dress code for the funeral. As you know your dad always wore Hawaiian shirts and we were wondering if we could wear a Hawaiian shirt to the service. I think your dad would have smiled to see us dressing like him. If you think it would be inappropriate or offensive to the family please let us know. Thank you. Hugs, Mamahoney.

Two immediate thoughts popped into my head. First, people over 55 should not be allowed to pick their own AOL screen names. Second, what to do about Hawaiian shirts?

The emailer was right. My dad's wardrobe had consisted of mainly Hawaiian shirts for at least a couple of decades. Dad was going to be wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Anyone else that wanted to wear one probably should too.

In fact, I think I should probably wear one too.

Hawaiian shirts really aren't my style (not that I have much of a style) but it would be a nice way to pay a little tribute to my dad. I'm going to have to go out and get me one.

It didn't take too long to realize that I wasn't going to get any additional responses and I was okay with that. I felt like I had done what my dad would have wanted me to do.

I do think I may have opened up a can of worms with the Wood Lady. I could feel empathy coming from the other emails but the Wood Lady email had something completely different in it. Something that I had become pretty well acquainted with over the last five days.

The Wood Lady couldn't have empathy for my loss because she was grieving her own loss.

Who are you, Wood Lady?

VW

Phoning it in - Conclusion

It seems as though as soon as I get off one call, another call rolls in immediately after.

This time, it's the Rabbi.

He's at his in-laws and asks if I've eaten today.

I don't remember if I have or not.

He tells me that he'll be over in about an hour with a pizza and some beer. I hadn't thought about food all day and all he has to do is say "pizza and beer" and I'm starving.

Nobody calls for me during this time and I'm done making phone calls tonight. I just want to watch some baseball now. The Rabbi and I share a Rotisserie baseball team and we've owned it since 1990 or 1991. Our team has pretty much sucked most of the year but for whatever reason, we're having a pretty decent week.

Not that it matters.

The Rabbi arrives with a cheese pizza and some dark beer. The Commander decides to take the Chicken out for a bit.

How fun! A Man Date.

The Rabbi has actually started performing some rabbinical duties...including being with families that are dealing with a death of a loved one. But this time it is a little different.

Because we've been friends for almost 15 years and because he knew my dad a little bit.

The Rabbi tells a story about how long it took him to realize how tall my dad was. Most of the time that the Rabbi would come over, my dad would be in a recliner while watching tv in the dark. The glow of the tv would reflect off of the scotch on the rocks that my dad would be drinking. Our joke was that you wouldn't even know that he was asleep or not until you heard the ice cubes jingling.

Anyway, it was probably years before my dad met the Rabbi in a vertical position. He couldn't believe it took him so long to realize what a big guy he was.

We eat pizza and beer and curse our rotisserie team. I still think we have a chance to win but the Rabbi won't get his hopes up.

He brings the conversation back to my dad. "I've got to tell you. I'm really proud of you."

I'm confused. "Why?"

"Because you made your home a safe environment for your dad and made him feel welcome in your home. He had a chance to enjoy the Chicken and what could be better than that?"

My relationship with my dad definitely had peaks and valleys but the Rabbi was right....we had recently hit a peak.

Before I knew it, I was yawning up a storm (imagine that? No sleep + pizza + beer = tired VW). The Rabbi needed to get home to his wife and daughter.

"Are you going to speak at the services?" he asked.

"I gotta say something. I just have no idea."

"Do you need anything from me?"

"I just need one thing," I replied. "When I'm up there, I have no idea if I'm going to be able to get through what I have to say. I need you to watch me and if I get to a point where I can't continue, I need you to come up and read what I want to say."

"Of course."

Who knew that I would one day have a Rabbi for a Wingman?

The Rabbi knows that I don't really like physical contact but he gave me the obligatory man hug (that's a handshake, with the lean in, and a single-fist pump to the back) and headed back to his home in Encino.

I've got less than two days until the services and I have no idea what I'm going to say or how I'm going to say it. I want to try to avoid it but I may have to just phone this one in.

VW

Phoning it in - Part four

Almost immediately after I got off of the phone with the catering manager, it started to ring.

It was Cool Aunt.

My mom is the middle child of five girls and my Cool Aunt is the youngest of the bunch. She's 15 years older than me and after I was born, she would come visit my parents and spend part of her summers in high school playing with me.

She was calling me to let me know three things. This first was how sorry she was. The second was how much she liked my dad. And the third was that all of my aunts would be down for the funeral.

Wow. That was a big deal. I don't really have any memories of my dad and my mom's family interacting.

And then Cool Aunt really surprised me.

She started to cry.

Now keep in mind, Cool Aunt had seen my dad...oh..maybe once in the last 25+ years. Why was she crying?

Was it because both of her parents (my grandparents) had passed away over the last few years? Was it because Number 2 and I were the first of the cousins to lose one of our parents? Or was it just empathy? I dunno.

I told her that I was happy that they were coming down. And the truth is, I'm thrilled that they are coming down.

I think I've said it before but you really can't know how meaningful these gestures of support are until you are going through something like this.

And very few things are better than getting a phone call from Cool Aunt.

VW

Phoning it in - Part three

I tend to give providers of customer service a bit of slack when they aren't living up to my expecations.

Having worked in the tourism industry for my adult life, I know that somethings are not in your control as an employee and having a customer get upset with you because of that can really be a pain in the ass.

I was minutes away from becoming a pain the ass for a catering manager at the funeral home.

I needed to check in with her to make sure she knew all of our arrangements and today was my first opportunity to speak with her.

As we neared the end of our conversation she says to me, "Well VW, it looks like we are all set and your reception will be ready to go right at 1:30."

It's at this point where I can feel myself about to lose it. My father's services are scheduled to start at 11:00 and go for an hour. Does she really think people are going to wait 90 minutes for the start of a reception?

"I'm sorry. Did I just hear you correctly? 1:30?"

"Yes, didn't you and your counselor agree to this time?"

"Ummmmm.......no. Do you really think I would agree to a time that would make my father's 89-year-old parents wait for 90 minutes for the reception to begin?"

"Welllllllllll....that's what we have scheduled for you."

John McClain from Die Hard is now firing automatic weapons in my brain. I could go off at any time.

"Look, here's the situation," I said. "You have a problem here and I know you can fix it. I'm going to get off of the phone right now. And I'm going to give you the next couple of hours to get together with whomever you work with to brainstorm a solution. In two hours, you are going to call me back and have proposal that will work for me and my family. Does that sound fair?"

The dead air on the other side of the connection was quickly filled with a polite, "Yes, Mr. VW."

I didn't have an answer yet but there was no doubt in my mind that a solution was just a couple of hours away.

VW

Phoning it in - Part two

Buffalo Bob had probably been my dad's closest friend over the last few years and I wanted him to speak at his services. I had already heard from Number 2 that he didn't really want to but I had to find out for myself.

"Buffalo Bob, I'd really like it if you could say somethings about my Dad at the services."

I had managed to get the question out but now tears were holding an impromptu drag race down my cheeks.

I heard Buffalo Bob exhale and I knew he wasn't going to do it.

"VW, I loved your dad but I just don't think I could do it. First of all, I don't want to embarass myself because I know that I couldn't get through it without crying up a storm. And you may not realize it but there will be some people that show up to your dad's services that I know he wasn't very happy with. If I see them and have a microphone in front of me, I don't know what will come out of my mouth."

I understood. Buffalo Bob is from the generation where it is truly a sign of weakness to show that type of emotion. I was asking him to do the impossible.

I also didn't want my dad's services to denegrate into some sort of shouting match between guys in their 60's...but I was getting curious about the real story of my dad's sudden retirement. What REALLY went on? And who did Buffalo Bob hold responsible for it?

"VW, now isn't the time to talk about this. But when you're ready, call me and we'll go to lunch and I'll let you know what I know."

I ended the conversation and told Buffalo Bob I was looking forward to seeing him on Thursday.

I still had other phone calls to make.

VW

Phoning it in - Part one

A tight circle of friends and family had popped up around me (kind of like the Black Eyed Peas pop into the Best Buy commercial) over the last three days and I really wasn't ready to talk to anyone outside of that group.

But my Dad had his own circle and it was time to start talking to them.

I had recovered a couple of different phone books that my dad had kept. It was going to be my only way to access these names and numbers.

Before I started making phone calls, I sent a blind email out to the contacts in his Outlook. I had no idea who any one of those people were but I thought it would be the right thing to do.

My first call was to Mrs. D. She is the mother of my dad's high school sweetheart and my dad had stayed in touch with her for the last 40+ years. I've never met her but she did get me tickets to the 1990 MLB All Star Game at Anaheim Stadium.

Honestly, I'm not even sure if she is still alive.

A frail voice answers the phone. I think I'm about to break an old lady's heart.

I tell her what happened and she thanks me for calling her. I ask her if she could tell her daughter and she says she will. She lets me know how sorry she is and I thank her for her kindness.

I also let her know how highly my dad always spoke of her. That makes her cry.

I excuse myself and end the call. I still have a few more to make.

Next up is Buffalo Bob, one of my dad's oldest friends. I'm pretty sure that he is already heard the news but I need to ask him something else.

I want him to speak at the funeral.

Back when my parents were married, we would spend time with Buffalo Bob's family at some of the bigger holidays. I remember being there for New Year's Eve and for Easter. One Easter at Buffalo Bob's house, I walked in on all of the adults putting together the Easter baskets for all of the kids. I can still remember Buffalo Bob looking at me as I walked into the room with Peeps in both hands and a cigar hanging out of his open mouth.

His face said one thing and one thing only - "Oh...Shit."

Bob answers on the third ring. I am going to cry during this phone call.

He asks how Number 2 and I are doing and I tell him that we're just trying to get through each day. Buffalo Bob knows about loss too. I went to the funeral of his oldest son when I was probably 14. I remember him saying to my dad, "I hope you never have to go through something like this."

I guess my dad was fortunate that he never did.

VW

Black like me

I got home right as the Chicken was waking up from her afternoon nap. The Commander dove into the box of family albums and slideshow reels - looking for something special for a memory board that she would be making for my dad's services.

Number 2 had been by earlier and the Commander had already found pictures of my family that I had never seen before. She also found a typewritten page from my great-grandmother. It was a song that she wrote for my father immediately after his birth.

The Commander immediately locked in on my baby pictures. Her favorite ones usually involve some sort of VW as a baby nudity. My favorite ones are a series of shots of me drinking (water) from a Coors tallboy can. Two years old and already getting ready for the one-armed beer curls. Nice!

The Commander was still flipping through the book when she called me over to her. "VW, who is this?"

It was a series of pictures of me with a black man holding me.

"I don't know," I replied.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean, I. Don't. Know."

"How can you not know somebody that is holding you as a baby?"

"Ummmm....maybe because...I was a BABY when these were taken."

When the Commander doesn't get an answer that satisfies her curiosity, the unknown will drive her crazy until she can find out. It took me a long time to realize that when she had a question for me that I didn't need to necessarily give her the CORRECT answer. I just needed to give her a PLAUSIBLE answer. And that would keep the question from getting asked again.

Unfortunately, I was just as stumped by these pictures of me with a black man. I have no idea who he is.

Fortunately for me, she was willing to put off trying to find out this answer until my Mom arrived on Thursday for the services. But the Commander had other ideas about what we were going to do tonight.

She wanted to see my Dad's house.

She had never really been comfortable at this place. The hardwood floors were very dusty and if we brought the Chicken with us over there, it meant that we would have to change her clothes immediately afterwards. She was like a baby Swiffer in his place.

The guns were also an issue. She kind of freaked out the first time that she saw one of his guns and couldn't stop talking about it for a while. Number 2 finally convinced him to put the guns away because he was afraid that my dad might mistake him for a burglar try for some target practice.

So for the first time this week, I had my two girls with me as we went to Long Beach.

Even though it was after 5 p.m. when we arrived, the house was very hot and two fans were blowing the hot air around the place.

The Commander started a careful inspection of the place and let the Chicken run around. The Chicken enjoyed stomping her feat on the hardwood floor and couldn't run around the house fast enough. That scene must have looked like similiar to when my parents first moved into the house when I was about the Chicken's age.

The Commander was drawn to the pictures of the Chicken that we (okay, she) had given to my dad over the last 20 months. We had once found an unopened Christmas card that she had sent him about a year later. I was relieved to see that any envelopes from Orange had definitely been opened and the contents had been read.

She asked me to walk her through what I thought happened and I described the scene to the best of my knowledge. Tears started running down her cheeks as she acknowledged my guess at a timeline for my dad's final moments.

"I can't believe the Chicken is going to grow up without one of her Grandparents," she said. "It's just so sad."

"I know. This sucks more than I could have ever guessed," I replied.

it was really getting too hot to be in here so we decided to pack up and head back to Orange. I emptied my dad's mailbox and we headed back to our car.

There is still so much to prepare for my dad's services.

I just do not have the time to grieve.

VW

We interrupt this blog to bring you this important announcement...

This week has been a difficult week for me. I've been pretty down about things and it has come through loud and clear to those that I'm closest to.

I didn't understand why this was going on until just a few minutes ago. My family is approaching the first significant date since my father passed.

In less than three hours, the Chicken turns two.

We'll have a party for the family on Saturday with a Blue's Clues bounce house and a Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake that we'll probably let the Chicken demolish.

And, at Number 2's request, we'll leave an empty chair in shade reserved for my Dad.

The Commander thinks that I'm just going to let tomorrow go by like any other day...she's wrong.

Sometime tomorrow morning, a balloon bouquet will be delievered for the Chicken. It is totally something out of my Dad's playbook. Get your kid something that they'll be excited about and don't tell your wife ahead of time...because the surprise is just as much for her.

It is a pretty safe bet that I'll get a call from the Commander in the morning and she'll be crying because of how I signed the card.

"Dear Chicken,

I hope you have a happy day!
I love you more than all the fishies in the sea!

Love, Daddy"

VW

I can't drive 55

Having the Commander back home helped bring me back to some sense of normalcy. Space Camp had been (as I thought it would be) a wonderful experience. I'll always be sorry that my father would never get to hear about it.

Waking up on Monday was a little surreal because my vacation time had ended and I was now on bereavement leave. I work for a Company that requires men to be clean-shaven. I'm glad that I'm off work because I am just not up for shaving right now. I'll probably shave in a goatee for the funeral on Thursday.

Speaking of the funeral, the Commander had volunteered to put together a memory board for my father's services. We just needed to get some pictures. Number 2 was going to pick some up from my grandparents at the River and my Mom had sole custody of our family pictures after the divorce.

I was going to have to drive to San Diego today to pick them up.

Before I left, I answered some of the email that had been rolling in. Friends and family had been sending notes to me to see how we were holding up. I never really thought stuff like that really mattered but after going through this I can honestly say that every card, email, or phone call meant the absolute world to me. It is very humbling to know that there are so many people in my life that cared about what had happened to my family.

I had also made a lunch date with the Confidant. Her family was a day away from a really cool vacation and I wanted to spend some time with her before she left.

Lunch with the Confidant is always entertaining but I usually get some grief from her because I can't really drive more than one person in my car. Today, I'm driving the Commander's car and I'd be driving us to lunch.

We meet at her house and head over to a local Mexican food place. She lets me talk a lot and I tell her what's been going on. She's tells me how sorry she is that she will be gone for the services. I'm just glad she made some time for me today.

Lunch somehow ends really quickly and I drop the Confidant back at her house and I'm off to San Diego.

The drive to my mom's house is a pleasant one when there is no traffic. Today, I get to be alone with my thoughts but I still have to concentrate enough to stay on the road.

I start to think about pies. Lemon meringue to be exact.

I needed to get lemon meringue pies for the reception after the funeral.

It would be the perfect tribute for my father and everyone there would know it.

My dad made the BEST lemon meringue pie ever. They were perfect every time. The meringue always looked like frozen ocean waves. The filling tasted like an old-fashioned lemon drop.

I'm not exaggerating at all. You can ask anyone that had a chance to taste one. My dad couldn't bake much but his pies rocked.

I needed to find his recipe and then find a bakery that could replicate it.

It wouldn't be the same but at the same time but I know that he would have loved it.

Before I know it, I'm at my Mom's house.

She's left the door unlocked and I find a large box sitting on her dining room table.

It contains two photo albums and a half dozen slide reels. I hadn't seen any of these pictures in over two decades. I wondered how many little treasures I was about to stumble on.

How am I going to watch these slides?

I grab the box and lock the door. I spend a grand total of three minutes at my Mom's before I head back to Orange.

And I smile all the way home thinking about those pies.

VW