Day 2: 11:05 AM

King David wrote about a Polynesian named Hawaii’I Loa.

He was the fisherman responsible for feeding his village. He would take his long canoe or wa’a, a vessel that was sixty feet long and a had depth up to man’s chest, on long fishing trips that roamed the Pacific. These trips could last weeks, months or even a year.   One day, his navigator, a man by the name of Makai’s, suggested they steer in the direction of Lao, the eastern star, to find new land. Using that and a star called Hoku, the red star, and a constellation that was shaped like a bird, they eventually made their way to the big island of Hawaii which is named in his honor.

Their trip was over twenty-five hundred miles across the largest ocean in the world. A body of water that had no land masses to guide them or resupply along the way and was prone to typhoons. This all happened sometime between one hundred AD to 1100 AD. A time when the European’s had only managed to conquer the Mediterranean a body of water 1/60^th the size of the Pacific in boats that were four times as big.

Compare this to today when many cannot make their way to the supermarket without Waze or if you really wanted to get them lost you would give them a map. Perhaps I sound elderly here, which I am not, but sometimes the truth is harsh.

And by the way, this one is not a one off. One lucky shot and done. Hawai’I Loa found his way back to Polynesia and became the island’s first real estate salesperson. He convinced a generation of Pacific Islanders to pack up their chickens, pigs, dogs, and breadfruit plants and come to this new paradise.

I am thinking of Hawaii’I Loa because I am lost! Lost is too harsh a word. I have a good directional bump. I almost always know where I am and can figure out how to get where I am going. Which is why instead of backtracking on the trail that brought me to the rainbow cove I decided to be adventuresome and take a different route.  I know where I am. It is on the map I was given at reception. There is only one promontory that has a vista pretty enough for a postcard and this particular view of Molokai and Lanai. I am not lost, I am just not where I I wanted to be.  I even know where I went wrong. But to find my way back home I still need to plunge into the jungle and hope this time I will not miss the path I am supposed to be on.

Which when you think about might be the story of my life.

It is late October of 2019, and I am in the front seat of a Black Chevy Tahoe driving through the gates of Horizons. It is a community designed to accommodate seniors (lord I hate that term, but it is better than elderly) from retirement to last gasp. For the recently retired it contains modest homes for those who are looking to downsize their living arrangements. When the burden for caring for a home has become too much there are apartments. And, when your medical issues overwhelm all other problems in your life, there is an assisted living and care facility. In other words, it is the last community you will ever have to join. On the positive side, this is no dormitory of death but more a campus for those whose expiration date is nearing.  While I have no desire to live in a place like this, I am impressed by what I see.

I turn to Liam who is sitting in the back seat, next to his dad, and say to him with a touch of awe “How did you find this place? Especially in such a short period of time.”

Liam smiles at the compliment, his boy like features breaking into a grin. He replies “I did a bunch of research. And Hadley’s mom has friends who are on the board of this place. They gave us a tour and it looked great.” Looking over at his wife, who at a little over five-foot, petite, looks incongruous driving this vehicle large enough for a helipad, chuckles and says “We liked it so much we almost moved in.”

I looked over at my friend Con who had been quiet for most of the drive from Charlotte Airport and say, “What do you think budrow?”  He replies, somewhat grouchily “Let’s see when we get to where I will be living.” I did not mind the grouchiness. I understood. It had been a long flight from L.A., a place where only two years ago he had been sitting on top of the world. Abandoned by a woman who had professed unending love for him he was heading to a place where, more likely than not, he would die. It was one of those moments in life where you wonder how you got here.

For me it had begun a little over three weeks before.

My typical weekday routine, when Nadine is not in residence, is to get up at around six am and immediately go to my desk and write. Some people meditate to sort out their life, I write. It allows me to exorcise with keystrokes what mantras do for others. With interruptions for Fenway’s morning dew drop and perhaps breakfast, I work steadily until 9 am when I need to focus my efforts on my workday. I work until my brain misfires and my eyes blur from too much blue light. To recharge, and allow for additional calorie consumption later, I head to Equinox gym. It serves as more than a place to build muscles and cardio capacity. It is the only time during the day where I have any interaction with other people. I am on a first name basis with the trainers, front desk staff and many of the people who worked out there. It is the office water cooler community I miss from the days when I worked in an office.

At the gym I make it a practice not to respond to texts, emails, or phone calls. My phone’s only function is to listen to music or perhaps an audiobook. I do not understand why so many people at the gym practiced downward facing Apple (stretching while staring down at their screen) or spend an inordinate amount of time between reps on their screen texting or answering emails. Isn’t this a place where you go to get away from the grind.  Besides, it is rude monopolizing floor space and machine time. You don’t own the equipment and there are better places to take selfies.  I rarely answered my phone if it rang. The only exception was Mom called as the only time she called was for emergencies. (Or what to her emergencies were emergencies which could include things like the printer ink being low or a light bulb needing replacement. Regardless, they needed to be dealt with or I would suffer the consequences) In recent months I had added Con to my answer list. While technically his brain tumor was in remission, we all knew that this was a pit stop. He was alone most of the time with nothing to think about except death and what lay beyond. If he called, even if we had talked a couple of times that  day, I gave up “my” time for him.

I was on the Stairmaster, about midway through my one hundred and thirty-nine floor climb of the Petronas Tower when my phone buzzed. The screen displayed “Lilith.” Ugh. I have no desire to speak with her, but this could be about Con. Something might have happened to him. I touch my right ear bud and answer my phone with “Hi Lil. What’s going on?”

She replied with the false bonhomie of a telephone salesperson “Hey I hope I am not interrupting anything, but do you have a minute to talk.”

I knew from my daily conversations with Conor his relationship with Lil had been rocky of late. He felt neglected. She was not visiting him enough. Despite the fact that she had volunteered to be his primary care giver, and lived just two miles from Eagles Rest, days would go by without a visit. Conor was lonely and scared. Who would not be in this situation? This was made worse by the fact that his universe of friends had been whittled down to three people. Lil, myself, and his brother George. It was a bed of his making for sure but Lil had supplied the mattress and Del the sheets. It was Lil who had made going to Liam’s wedding a line he felt he could not cross. He should have ignored her, but she manipulated him. It had alienated his boys. His friends, other than me, had largely disappeared with his divorce. Del had one the P.R. battle and the ones who stood by him, most of whom were at the wedding, were appalled by his lack of attendance and by Del’s fanning of that flame, they were no longer speaking with him. This put a huge amount of pressure on Lil to be Conor’s everything.

I had little if any sympathy for her. This had been her game plan all along. Conor’s only focus should be her at the exclusion of all others. She just had not counted on his getting brain cancer and him being his primary care giver. Man plans, God laughs.

I knew she was not calling to have a casual conversation. She did not care for me enough for touching base. There was something on her mind. I replied “Sure. But can I call you back in two minutes? I am at the gym and want to get somewhere we can speak more freely.”

I escaped to my car in Equinox’s parking lot and Facetimed Lil.  When she picked it up, I could see that despite the early hour in California she was ready to start her day. Her hair freshly blown dried and styled. Make up immaculately if not excessively done. Her surgically enhanced lips brightened by a fresh glossing of dark pink lipstick. It was not to my taste, but she was not my girlfriend. I said. Hi Lil. You look exceptionally pretty today.”

She said “Thanks Danny.  I am heading into Beverly Hills with my daughter, but we have a few minutes to speak.” She paused, a pensive look crossing her face, and said “I just got off the phone with George.”

“Oh.  what did he have to say?”

“No, I called him.” Another pause and then continued. “I called to tell him that I cannot do it anymore.” Another pause, no doubt to give me time to ask what she could not do anymore but I remained quiet, so she went on. “I cannot continue to take care of Con anymore. He is too needy. He calls me at all hours of day and night and wants me to do things for him or come over or just talk. And if it isn’t him calling, it is Eagles Rest. He has done something, or they have a question about his care. Then there are the Dr’s appointments. Every week he needs to see his oncologist or another Dr. He cannot go by himself. I have to do it. It is taking way too much of my time. My relationship with my kids is suffering. I am not giving enough attention to my business. I am exhausted 100% of the time. I am fried. I can’t go on anymore.”

I was not shocked by Lil’s declaration.  Being a caregiver is not for the faint of heart.  I had been a primary care giver to my father for years before his death and was doing the same for my mother. Dad could be exacting but was always grateful for what I was doing and often worried that I was doing too much. He did not want me to put my life on hold for him. Mom, while much more demanding, and infuriating, but she too was always grateful. Con on the other hand was Con. If you gave him an inch, he needed two more. You had to be able to step away and say no. This was not easy in the best of times, let alone now. 

I sympathetically said “I get it. Con can be a real pain in the ass. I feel for you. I really do. When I was taking care of my dad, there were days all I wanted to do was come home and dive into a bottle of bourbon. And the only responsibility I had was to Mac and Fennie. I can’t imagine what it would be like with kids. Can I help? Do you want me to come out there for a few weeks and spell you? It would be a challenge, but I think I could figure it out.”

“No Danny. You don’t get it. I am done. I am not going to do it anymore. I told George come Thanksgiving Con is someone else’s responsibility.”

I went silent. This was a woman who had declared undying love for my best friend. Who had insisted she be the lone star in my buddy’s universet to the point she had forbidden telling me and his children of his diagnosis. The person who had insisted, demanded in fact, that she be the primary, if not the solitary care giver of Con when he got sick.  Who played with sharp elbows when anybody else wanted to get involved or had a suggestion about better treatment? Did she think Con was a rescued pet who didn’t work out? Just return him to the shelter, they will find someone else to adopt him.

Not giving up, especially when things get hard. Saying what you are going to do and doing what you say. Showing up. All of those things are now a part of my DNA. Sometimes even to my detriment, especially when dealing with no win situations such as relationships have gone south and businesses that were born to fail. But I still believed in the philosophy, and I could not understand why everyone did not share it. The sad truth is most people don’t and when they revealed that side to me, it  made me think less of them.

Being the primary caregiver to both my parents was an education. It is tough, often thankless blackhole of emotional reserves and time. You are dealing with sick people who are contemplating the great void when they are not suffering the agonies of their disease. It made them, depending at the moment in time, scared, angry and self-indulgent or a combination of the above. You had to rise above all that and remember that you are the lucky one. You are not sick, infirm, or suffering. They are. Whatever the hell they are putting you through at that moment of time they will always have it worse than you. Making that emotional leap of faith and summoning whatever inner strength you need to remain calm is not in everyone’s toolkit. My brother Levi did not have or chose to develop those skills. He wanted none of it and left the caregiving to my sister and me. It angered and frustrated me. I felt he was shirking a responsibility not only to Mom and Dad and all they had done for him but to Lotte and me. I thought him selfish if not narcissistic. It took time, and a lot of soul searching to realize he did not help, at least in part, because he had no capacity for it. While his lack of help infuriated me at least he didn’t make promises that he could not keep. 

My inner voice screamed “ You said that you loved this man. You said that you would take care of him. You made him choose between his family and you and now you are saying none of that matters because it is too tough. Fuck you for wrecking this man’s life and then abandoning him when he needs you the most. You heartless bitch.” 

Lil said “Danny?” Letting loose my inner screams would not help the situation. My anger turned cold. I replied without emotion “I understand Lil. Let me get on this and I will get back to you when we have plan” and clicked off.

I reached the point in the path where I had gone awry. It was an obvious mistake. The path had split with one trail leading to the cliff and the other heading back to the hotel. When I had come to the fork in the path, I assumed that the more defined trail was the right path. As it turns out that was misguided. The path that was well traveled led me to the cliff, not a bad destination, the view was phenomenal, but not the one that would take me to where I needed to be.

When I had been told of Con’s illness, he had begged me not to tell Liam and Duke. Lilith had told him that if his children were in his life, she would not be. If I shared the news of his cancer with them, they almost certainly want to communicate with him. This would have been especially true of Duke. Not only was he just down the road in Pasadena getting his doctorate at Cal Tech but his single mindedness, exacerbated by his bi-polar disorder, would have compelled him to reach out to his dad if not to visit. I suffered with the decision about telling them. They needed to know. It was their dad. And, I knew, even with Conor’s candy coating of his prognosis, he was dying. How awful would it be if one day they received a phone call, out of the blue, saying “Your father has died from brain cancer. He has been sick for months and I have known for months and not told you at his request.” I would be denying them the chance to say goodbye to their father, to forgive and be forgiven. It would cause incalculable psychic trauma. They would also never forgive me just as I found it hard to forgive Lil and George for their silence when Con was idiagnosed.

Despite all this I decided not to tell the boys. This was Con’s story to tell. Not mine. Besides I felt if I told the boys, not only would they be shut out of Con’s life but so would I. The only people left to care for my friend would be Lilith, whom I did not like and did not trust, and George who had been eager not to be involved in Con’s care. My being present was better than having no one in his corner and he would make sure my friend

That was the right decision. Now I had to pay the price for going down that path. I had to call them and tell them that their father had terminal brain cancer, that I had known for months, had not told them, the woman who had destroyed their relationship with their dad was now abandoning him, and we had to figure out a way to get him the care that he needed. And, I had to do it right now. There was no time for me to build up the courage for this conversation. We had three weeks to make this all happen.

I sent them a text asking to speak to them via Zoom and after a minimum of back and forth we agreed to speak late that afternoon. I spent the hours between when we agreed to meet and when we started our Zoom call agonizing over how to break the news to them. How to share with them that their favorite Uncle had been deceiving them, if not outright lying to them. Not about a little thing, such as having highly embarrassing videos on the internet or being a metahuman, but about their father having terminal cancer and denying them time with him when there was not much time left.

I called Nadine, who was in Brazil for the monthShe was outraged and horrified but not surprised by Lil’s decision. She said in her beautiful Brazilian Portuguese accent “You know my darling; I have always thought she was piranha. (Not meaning the fish but what Brazilian’s call vulgar women and prostitutes) she has no use for him any longer, so she throws him away.” She suggested that I be direct with my nephews. Give them the news about their father’s illness as straight and as matter of fact as I could. No hedging. Not bullshit. Be honest about why you had not shared the news with them sooner and apologize for making that decision. If it was a mistake, you take full responsibility, but you made the best decision you could make at the time. 

Three weeks later, we were pulling into Horizons. Liam and Duke had been incredibly angry. But thankfully not at me. They reserved most of their fury for Lil. While I had not shared the news about their old man’s illness and should have, they could move past as I had never stopped showing up for them and they were both smart enough to understand that I had been caught between a rock and a hard place. Lil though, had purposefully driven a wedge between them and their dad, but when the going got tough she got going. How do you abandon a person when you need them the most? But they never thought much of her to begin with, so it was just another brick in the wall of hatred they had built for her.

But Lil was not the only person they directed their anger at. Their Uncle George shared the podium with her. He had enabled the whole situation. He had given Lil medical power of attorney without hesitation. He hadn’t even considered taking it on himself or consulting with his nephews. He was not looking for Con’s best interest. He was thinking about himself. Taking care of Con was a burden he wanted no part of. He was so frightened he would be saddled with the care of his brother that he was willing to give it to anyone. Even a woman he had never met. The fact he had not even bothered to call them to discuss it and had bent to Lil’s will and not even called them to discuss it was an unforgiveable sin.

Part of what fueled their anger towards George and Lil was the disease that was in the process of killing their father. If we are fortunate enough to have parents who cherish and nourish us enough, we believe that they will always be there for us. It makes us feel safe. If they are around, nothing bad can happen to us. That does not mean we cannot be angry or frustrated with them. It does not mean we don’t want to have anything to do with them for a while or think them irrevocable and intractable idiots.  But as long as they are around, we have a safety net as we do our highwire act of living. Losing that, or the knowledge you soon will, strikes a primal fear that goes soul deep.

It was this anger that powered the day. Duke and Liam had their reasons for being upset with Con. He had after all abandoned them for this “piranha.” But the fear of losing him, without forgiveness or a goodbye was greater than the anger he had abandoned him.

It was quickly decided that Con staying at Eagle’s Rest was untenable. Not only would it leave him near Lilith, but Duke did not have the bandwidth to care for his father. His doctoral studies ate up a huge amount of time. Much of the rest was take up with his side gig, tutoring high school students in math and science which paid his bill. He was also a bi-polar, alcoholic. Those diseases meant he could not be counted on to provide the care and companionship Con required. This could have been contentious but thankfully it was not. Duke, who seemed sharp and not manic, knew his limitations, and volunteered that making him the primary care giver of his dad would be in no one’s best interest. Liam, who had a stable home life, a good job would have to be the primary care giver. But Liam lived in Charlotte which presented its own set of problems including transporting Con across country, finding a facility for him to live in and new physicians to treat his glioblastoma. All within Lil’s three-week timeline.

I took on the transportation problem. I was, at the time, Executive Platinum on American Airlines, with over three million miles flown. I had a bunch of miles banked and knew how to manipulate the system enough that our flight across country would be as hassle free as possible. I suggest that we all fly first class. This was not just for comfort.  Con was altered. He had a hard time getting around. He wore an adult diaper as his continence could not always be counted on. Finally, first class had a two-by-two configuration as opposed to a three by three in the back of the airplane. This meant we wouldn’t subject any other person if Con had a sudden outburst because he was confused or upset to be leaving Lil and California. I would use miles to upgrade Con and myself. Liam would pay for Con’s ticket and his own.

The next challenge was the when. We had a deadline, but we all had our own schedule. Once we determined when we could get there, we needed to figure out how many days it would take on the ground to get everything accomplished. It was more than just picking Con up and putting him on the plane. He had things in storage that needed to be sorted through and either tossed or distributed and shipped. Appointments needed to be made with all of Con’s various physicians. Not only did we need his medical records but Liam, as the primary caregiver, needed to have a full understanding of his father’s condition. The biggest challenge to that was getting their names and contact information from Lil. The boys had no desire to talk to her. For that matter, neither did I. How do you abandon a person you love when they needed you the most? Time had only hardened my feelings on that front. But as I was the only one of us who had a relationship with her, I volunteered to speak with her. Once we had all of that information, Liam could arrange appointments and we could schedule our appointments around that information.

We arrived in California on the night of Wednesday October 23. Thursday would be spent with Dr’s visits. Friday we would take an early morning flight to Charlotte and get him installed in his new facility. We thought we had things all sewed up. Of course, we didn’t. What was it that Mike Tyson said? Every plan is perfect until you get punched in the nose. We were hit with both a jab and a right cross that came out of nowhere.

The jab came from George. He held Con’s power of attorney not just for medical but for also for all of his financial affairs.  An attorney friend of Liam had suggested that George sign a release giving up his rights and abilities under the current power of attorney. It was a belt and suspenders sort of thing as a new power of attorney would automatically invalidate the previous one but better to stop a disagreement before it happens. It was especially important considering Con’s mental state. It could easily be argued that a person who had some of his brain removed was not medically competent to sign a new power. The boys asked me to set up a meeting with George to discuss the legal issues and discuss Con’s finances. They needed to know how they were going to pay for Con’s care.

I thought this would be simple. I will arrange the meeting. We would all have a kumbaya moment and we would move on. Needless to say, it did not go as planned. It started off pleasantly. Liam and Duke were polite to their blood uncle who they had only met on a handful of occasions. They explained why they wanted to have the previous powers legally rescinded, and George readily agreed. Things went south when they began to discuss Con’s finances. George was evasive. He had few answers to their questions. It turns out while he was only nominally in charge of his brother’s finances, he had almost nothing to do with them. Lilith was handling all that. He suggested we talk to her.

This struck a raw nerve with the boys. Not only was there no love lost for her because of the wedding but they could not understand how their Uncle George could just turn over his brother’s finances to someone he had never met. When Duke and then Liam aggressively questioned him on not supervising his brain damaged and often confused brother’s finances the conversation took an ugly turn. Much of this was Duke’s fault. His disease and intellect combined to hurl insults and that were cutting and spot on in terms of accuracy. Had I been in George’s position I would have felt foolish, embarrassed, and disrespected. After a few minutes of Duke’s abuse, with Liam adding his two cents, he told the boys that they were “ungrateful little shits,” “He understood exactly why Lilith thought they were “fucktards”, and he was “ashamed to be their uncle” and hung up the phone on them.

I met George in the city for coffee a few days later. I wanted to see if I could patch up the differences between him and his nephews. Considering Conor’s condition, I did not think they should be fighting. I hoped that I could get him to understand that if he had been in a similar situation, cut out of their father’s life by a woman they did not know, then finding out that he had terminal cancer and they had not been told for months by this woman and uncle, he too would be wearing his emotions on his sleeve. That it might make him say things that were pointed, impolitic, rude, and obnoxious. He should forgive them. He did not. He thought the disrespect shown to him was beyond forgiveness. What I wanted to say to him that his willingness to turn over all responsibility of his brother’s care to a stranger, not reaching out to his nephews or me and letting us know of Con’s cancer because Lil had decreed was beyond forgiveness. It was wrong on every conceivable level. I didn’t. Burning bridges with him would only make things worse. Besides, I needed him to sign the revocations to Conor’s power of attorney. When  he did and we parted without him ever knowing what contempt I had for him.