Chapter 11: Day 3: 5:47AM continued

The sky is now grey. A foreshadow of the dawn to come. You can see things more sharply now. On my immediate right is the Haleakala Observatory. Seeing it makes me geek out a bit. It is the fifth highest observatory in the world and sits in the middle of the ocean far from any human-caused contaminants. That, and its location near the equator allows it to “see” parts of the universe not visible anywhere else on earth. It was this observatory that first observed a spot a cigar shaped object over a thousand meters long and a third as wide and moving at an incredible 197,000 miles moving through our solar system. They named it Oumuamua or scout in Hawaiian and researchers around the globe theorize it could be a probe sent from another star to examine our solar system.

This is exactly the type of thing Duke and I would love to discuss, argue, or just kick around. One of us would take the position that Ourmaumua was an alien spacecraft and the other would argue the opposite. It was just a piece of cosmic junk which happened to be in the neighborhood. We would argue back in forth. Not to see who was right but for the fun of the intellectual argument it produced. So nerdy. So, missed.

I hear “You know what Douglas Adams said?” I do not bother to turn to see who is speaking. I know. I reply “What is that?

“In the beginning the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely considered a very bad move.”

I laugh and say “You know more about the universe than I do these days. What do you think? Was it a bad move?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The universe isn’t that bad a place once you get to know it. I mean it has its rough spots. You can’t please everyone. But then again that is not the point. Overall, I would give it a solid B plus.”

I turn and face Duke and say, “I was wondering when you would show up.”

“I did tell you about this place.”

Laughing I say, “You did. You said, that experiencing the dawn of a new day here rivals any place on the planet.” Smiling I add “But I have not seen the sunrise yet, so it is hard to make a fair evaluation.” 

“The sheep might be black on the other side?”

“Exactly that.”

I turn and look at my nephew. He has a big toothy grin on his face, clearly delighting in the fact that he thinks he has surprised me. He, at, 6’4”, is one inch taller than his brother one something he rarely lets Liam forget.  Blonde, he has the familial eye twinkle of his father and grandfather in his eye. The one that always makes you think that a bit of mischief is in the offing, a joke is about to be told, or the “fact” they have just provided you with may or may not be one they made up on the spot. I am incredibly happy to see him. Overjoyed really. I do not tell him this. Instead, I say “I am so fucking angry with you.”

No matter how expected someone’s death is, nothing prepares you for the finality of their departure. I was ready for Con’s death. It had been a foregone conclusion since I learned of his diagnosis eighteen months earlier. What was not expected was that his death would come within weeks of my comforter in chief, Mom, and in the middle of a global pandemic where thousands were dying in the United States every day. I was thousands of miles from Nadine and anyone else who could give me a hug or physical comfort. It made me feel more alone, more separated from humanity than I ever could have imagined. My life’s journey, which had always been populated by families, friends, and the limitless adventures the world could provide, was now populated by only Fenway and me and confined to the twelve hundred square feet of my apartment.

I was a mess, and I knew it. I did not want to add to my nephew’s hurts by dumping my emotions on them. Sharing our grief would have to wait until I had enough time to process my own feelings. I wanted to give them a hand up not pull them down. I spent most of the first day friends know Con had died. Some through back-and-forth emails. Others through Facetime and Zoom. There were tears, snot bubbles, sympathy and even a few laughs over recollections of mutual misadventures. It helped despite the lack of human touch and the aloneness I felt.

I called Liam first thing the next morning. This was not because I was overly concerned about him. Just the opposite. He had a great support system. His wife Hadley was not only a nurse, a hugely compassionate soul but a fierce protector of Liam. She had also been right by his side through Conor’s time at Horizon’s. She had shared his journey, understood his pain, and would do all that she could to help him grieve and heal. Delilah also lived nearby. As despicable as she had been to Con, she worshipped her youngest son. She would provide the succor that only a mother’s hug brings.

I called Liam first because it was easier. Duke would not be.  I asked how things had gone since our call yesterday. He had replied “Uncle Danny, I had no idea how much paperwork is involved when somebody dies let alone all the decisions one has to make.”

I replied “Yeah, I know. I should have warned you. I just went through it with Mom. The paperwork for the deceased can kill you.” Liam had the good grace to chuckle at my pathetic joke and I said “Have you decided what you are going to do with him. Is he going to be buried? Are you going to have a service or haven’t you figured that stuff out just yet.”

Liam replied “Yes and no. Dad told me he didn’t want to be buried. He wanted to be cremated and then I should find some nice beach somewhere and spread his ashes there. You know how much he loved the beach. I just have not figured out where or when yet. But Hadley and I talked about it, and we think we are going to wait to do whatever we decide to do until Covid eases up a bit. Then we can do a service where people can attend. There is no rush like there would be with a body.”

“Smart! Where are you thinking.”

“Hadley thinks Kiawah Island. She knows Dad loved it there and her parents have a house there, so it is convenient. But I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Well, that was a mom and dad place. They used to go there on vacation all the time and I am not sure that is a place that would give Dad any peace considering everything. You know what I mean?”

“Sure. I think you are spot on. So, what are you thinking?”

“Hawaii. He loved it there. In the last few months” Liam said choking up “he would talk about when he got better that is where he wanted to go.”

“Then that is where we should take him. Count me in. Just give me a couple of weeks’ notice and I will be there.” We were quiet for a second and then I asked, “Other than the paperwork how are you really doing?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird. For the last nine months or so my whole life has been about taking care of Dad and suddenly I have nothing to do.”

“I get it. It is like you were leaning up against a wall and suddenly somebody removes it, and you can’t quite keep your balance.”

“Totally.” And then after a pause said, “When did you suddenly get so smart.”

“I didn’t. I have just been through this before. Recently. It’s a feeling you don’t forget. Piece of advice I have trouble keeping myself.”

“Sure.”

“Take the time to practice self-care. You know when you are on an airplane, and they tell you that in case of emergency you should put your oxygen mask on before your child. Same principal. To be present for those around you, you have to take care of yourself. Try therapy, go to the gym, take a pottery class, anything that makes you feel better about yourself that allows you the time to grieve and come to terms with what you have lost. Breathe!”

“Pottery classes?”

Laughing I reply, “You never know.” Then, getting serious I add “How is your brother doing?”

“We talked a couple of times. He seems fine but you know with him sometimes you don’t get the whole story and he is in such an odd place. You know.”

I did know. The odd place that Liam was referring to had less to do with his addiction and brain disease than with his current living situation. When the world shut down in mid-March due to Covid, Duke had abandoned his apartment in Pasadena and moved with his girlfriend to her parent’s massive home overlooking the Pacific in Laguna Nigel. I understood. Spending lockdown in a small one-bedroom apartment with two people and a cat would not have been much fun, especially when you have the option of living in the pool house of a nine thousand square foot mansion overlooking the Pacific. I also saw the dangers. His girlfriend, Morgan, and he had met in a support group for people who suffered from bi-polar disorder and alcoholism. It made for an understanding, mutually supportive relationship. It also gave room for the failure of one to lead to the failure of the other. Misery, loves company.

There was also another problem with this situation. Duke. My nephew was brilliant, kind, and generous but like his father he did not respond well to authority. He walked the trail he wanted to hike, and you could either join him or be damned. Living under someone else’s roof, especially someone who was successful enough to live in a ten-million-dollar home was a challenge for him. It was a time bomb waiting to go off.

“What did he say when you called him?”

“He seemed unphased. Or at least that is how it sounded. He knew it was coming. We had Facetimed him the day before just like we had with you.”

“I hate to ask this question but was he sober? Was he on his meds?”

“He wasn’t slurring his words, or talking nonstop, or had any of other signs he has when things are not going well. He just seemed…I don’t know…sad.”

“Okay. I just wanted to know because I am calling him next, and wanted to know what I was walking into. “

There was another pause in the conversation. We were both still so much in our own heads about Con’s death that the humor and small talk that often powered our conversation was absent. Finally, I say “I love you” and we end our conversation.

I had to summon the courage to call Duke. I was not scared to speak with him but conversations with Duke are challenging. He had a scientific mind. He questioned everything if it was not supported by empirical evidence and even then, he might question how you obtained your data. When Duke picked up my Facetime call, he was sitting outside in the warm California sunshine and smoking a cigarette. I said, “When did you pick up that habit?”

He blew out a plume of smoke and smiled. “I used to smoke when I drank. When I decided to get sober, I kept smoking because it helped me not to drink.”

Duke was nonplussed by the lack of greeting hello. Our conversations often began somewhere in the middle. Like two old friends who had not seen each other in a while, it was our way. I said “How you doing buddy? Seen any green flashes.”

He took a large drag from his cigarette, blew out a large cloud of smoke, flicked his cigarette away and said “No green flashes yet but I keep looking. And I am, surviving, one day at a time. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. Probably better than most. You want to talk about it?”

“No. Not right now. I am still trying to process it all. Figure it out.”

“Fair enough. But let me be a mother hen for a second. Are you talking to anyone about this? Your therapist? Your girlfriend?”

“I am scheduled to talk to my therapist day after tomorrow and Morgan and I haven’t really talked but she and her parents have been really kind to me.”

“Kind or nice?” I said smiling. He and I had this conversation a lot as he was growing up and he knew that for me the difference was clear. He thought for a second and said “Nice. They have said all the right things and done their best to let me know they know what I am going through.”

“I get it. People don’t know what to say or do when someone they know loses somebody close to them. Most of the time it’s just platitudes and catch phrases they say to acknowledge the fact they know you are going through something. It’s nice. It is what it is, but it really doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yep.”

“Then let me do something a little different.”

“Okay.”

“I think it is human nature to idolize those we love when they die. We miss them so much and our hurt is so deep, it is easy to turn them into caricatures where the good is over emphasized and the faults ignored. I think this is a huge mistake. It disrespects who they were as a person, it diminishes the actual love you felt for them and most importantly it turns your mourning into a miasma of self-pity instead of honoring their life. Do you understand what I am trying to say?

“I am not sure.”

“You idolized your dad. You thought he was the sun, and the moon and rainbows came out of his ass when he farted. And that is how it should be. I felt the same way about my dad. But both of our fathers had flaws. One of my old man’s shortcomings was he had to be forced into talking about his past. What it was like to grow up under Nazi rule, the fear he experienced and the hurt he felt at having so many of his relatives murdered. Until I pushed him on the subject, I could not see what lay beneath and he would have left no testimony to what happened to him, so his children and grandchildren had something to lean into when we said “Never forget.” It left me with questions I never thought to ask and now can’t. “

Duke looks confused so I add “I know. It doesn’t sound like much of a flaw. And he had other faults too that I won’t go into. But this one bothered me. There were questions that I needed to answer. So, I went looking. In fact, since he died, I have spent much of my spare time researching what he did during the war, a question I never thought to ask because he never gave me reason to, and now I am writing a book about what he did.”

“Okay.”

“The point is in mourning for my father I appreciated all of him.  Understanding who he was and why he was that way gave me a purpose that allowed me to navigate my grief better. It was his final gift to me and like so many things he gave me I can’t thank him. My point to you nephew is your father had his faults. Embrace them and let them humanize him. There is no question it will help with the pain but maybe you will get lucky, like me, and it will provide you with a bigger purpose.”