Sixties Pixie: Radoo: The Wonder Dog

Radoo: The Wonder Dog

dedicated to my old man.

Hello Readers! If anyone knows me fully, maybe they'd agree that I'm like a mixture of Gwen Stefani and my dad. Kind of a strange combination, but it makes sense in my head. I try to convince myself that I'm totally inspired by Gwen's style and lyrics, but my dad's emotional personality (both sides of the spectrum) and taste in music.

If I can be honest, he was a hard person to love. My family had an intense upbringing that I wouldn't wish on anyone, but am very fortunate to have turned out halfway decent from the experience. My siblings, mom, and I have a lighthearted point of view of it all now, but I'm sure we can agree on never wanting to relive it.

Anyway, excuse me for such a bummer of an intro, but I needed to set some kind of scene so you can understand where I'm going.

It was exactly 8 years ago tonight, January 2nd, 2008, that my life flipped around and knocked me over. I lost my dad to Hepatitis C. This had be a prolonged battle (from the 1960's) that started taking its toll about 3 years before he died.

I had never dealt with death as close to my heart as my dad. And like I said, even though it was a hard upbringing, and I was a terrible teenager on top of that, he and I still had the closest relationship. It was like an unspoken agreement that we just understood each other, and I think being the youngest in the family benefited me.

One of our last pictures taken together

When I look back on coping with the recovery, I remember at least being thankful for the timing, and if that's tacky - excuse me. But we got passed the holidays and into the new year, and though it didn't speed up my recovery, we did have one final hoorah. In fact, I can remember our last Christmas so clearly. I helped my dad get ready to go to my sister's apartment and I shaved his facial hair. He couldn't shower so I prepped him from the shoulders up. In those moments, I couldn't really bring myself to say much, but he told me, "I'm sure gonna miss you guys." He wasn't trying to be a downer, but it really broke my heart and still does.

His bones were hurting him so much he had to lay in bed on Christmas day, so when it was his turn to open gifts, we were in my sister's bedroom.

One of my dad's absolute favorite musicians of all time was Emmylou Harris, and she had just released a box set of rare songs with a booklet. I gave that to him as a gift and it was an irreplaceable moment. You know when you wanna cry because you're so happy and sad at the same time? We both felt it then (because I'm telling you, we had the same emotions).

Clean-shaven face: check!

A week later, everything we feared became reality. I'll save you the details other than we called a bunch of friends and family to visit him in the hospital. We had music playing, friends stopping by, and a lot of ice chip feedings. But around 9:25pm, my life came crashing down. From that point on I had a very long road ahead of me to accept and recover. I would get very severe panic attacks and have crazy ideas of how to get him back. I'd make deals with God, and lots of promises to have just 5 minutes with him again. There were so many things I wanted to ask, lots of silly questions, but I still wanted his answers anyway. Like, what was his favorite band that Eric Clapton was in: Cream, Yardbirds, or Derek and the Dominos? I know he would've loved these kind of questions. I remember my mom asked him if he liked surfing or motorcycles more. I just wanted to know him more than as my dad.

I'd like to think I haven't taken the people in my life for granted, but even more now since he's been gone. People learn different lessons from the same experience, and I learned to let the people I love know how I feel before it's too late. The only thing I did have peace with was that he and I knew we didn't hold any grudges.

I used to have constant dreams about him for months after he died. They were never alarming or sad, just hanging out. I would tell myself, "I'll write these dreams down and write a book about them," but never did and have forgotten most of them by now. One dream that always stuck with me was me calling him into the hallway by my room so I could show him the tattoo I got (in real life) for him. Okay, a little back story: I never had any tattoos until after he died. My very first one is on my right shoulder/collar, and it reads "Now he's gone to a place where it's legal to dream," which are Emmylou Harris lyrics off the album I gave him for Christmas. So back to the dream, I remember showing him that same tattoo and he was crying tears of joy because it was thoughtful. But I remember thinking, "If he's still alive, why would I have this tattoo?" Like I said, my dreams of him were pretty sweet.

I remember meeting a woman while I was at work who also lost her dad about a year before, and she told me, "it doesn't get better, but it gets easier." Eventually I learned to live without him by accepting it, even though I never got over it.

Last week on Christmas day my family and I watched some videos that my sister and I used to make for our brother's birthday. (Don't even ask). And there was a 2 second screenshot of my dad in the video singing Happy Birthday, holding the peace sign up. I haven't seen him or heard him in years, and it really broke my heart all over again watching that part of the video.

Even though it has eventually gotten easier over the last 8 years, if I really think back to him as a person, and his voice, and dorky jokes, and one-of-a-kind mannerisms, it's still hard sometimes.

He never became a Grandpa which I know hurt him more than anything, and now that there are four grandkids in our family - I think, man, he would've gone nuts for them.

It's weird that I have a set of favorite pictures of my dad, and that's it. I won't ever be able to take new ones with him and have to resort to 2007 as the most recent photos. A lot has changed since then and I wish I could update him on everything: my brother buying a home and setting a new standard for Teacher of the Year (you'll understand if you've heard that story), my sister and her husband having two kids and moving to Santa Maria/Santa Barbara (and back to L.A. after 7 years), my mom becoming a "Gaga" to four grandkids, and me getting married with our two kids.

I don't have much else to say other than treat those you love with kindness, and remind them often that you appreciate them. Even when people get under your skin, most of those traits will one day become endearing.

I've had these photos in an album/folder for years now and feel like they express who he was (on a good day!)