Left image by Cottonbro Studio – Obituary – Mom and Dad’s Wedding
My Real Memoir
He was only 45-years-old, and his doctor had informed him, “Your ticker is in great shape!” But now he was dead—and only God knew why. I’d have given anything to finish the hard work of understanding that began just before his “ticker” quit. Dad’s death felt cruel, random. I didn’t exactly believe in God, but I had an unshakable otherworldly longing. And then this happened. Surely, no loving creator would have allowed this.
The memorial service was surreal. My father couldn’t be dead; that was just a bad wax figure in a fancy box. I’d experienced his anger, and worse, his “disappointment.” Yet people spoke of his “kindness.” Then I remembered Dad’s remarkable gentleness toward his gnarled answering service lady. Maybe his disappointment in me wasn’t rejection, after all, but frustration at not knowing how to help me be me.
How should I grieve for a man I only realized I loved after he died? Every night in my dreams, Dad would walk in the door, and explain that his death had been “a big misunderstanding.” And now we could finish fixing us.
And then the billing period for Dad’s Los Angeles Times dealership began. Billing gave Mom a welcome distraction from the Mt. Everest of anguish before her. But for me, ten-hour days of addressing statements triggered a manic obsession: every night, instead of sleep, I’d crank out endless streams of address labels.
And now a decision lay before me: Mom asked if I wanted to take over Dad’s businesses, his L.A. Times dealership and his still-new Sensormatic franchise. I was broke, and the Times would provide a “cash cushion,” she said. Plus, who knew, Sensormatic might end up making money too.
So I became my father. With Mom’s help, I took over the Times dealership and made payments on Dad’s Sensormatic franchise. It wasn’t my thing at first, but then I read 1973’s mega-seller Winning Through Intimidation and figured what-the-heck.
Amazingly, within months Sensormatic started turning a profit. I quit the Times, moved to San Diego, and bought a townhouse. Within five years, I had an office team handling my investments, bought several Porsches, got into sailing, acted in plays, started a new band, dated a sweet, sultry model named Isabella, shared my growing cocaine habit with her, and had six messed-up kids who hate me to this day.
None of that ever happened, of course. My answer to Mom had been “No.” We relinquished the Times territory, and I gave back the Sensormatic franchise.
Some of it did happen, actually, just without me. Winning Through Intimidation was a bestseller, but I hated the title and never read it. And Sensormatic did start turning a profit just months after I gave it back. If I’d kept it, I would have made enough money to retire by age twenty-five, and by the early 90s would have amassed several hundred million dollars.
Somewhere in the multiverse, I kept Sensormatic and ruined my life. Then again, the multiverse being infinite, somewhere else I kept the franchise, Isabella and I went to rehab and had six brilliant, well-adjusted kids. One of whom invented time travel, then took the cure for what killed my father back to 1973 and saved him. I inherited Dad’s Sensormatic millions after he’d lived another four decades, and best of all, we learned how to tell each other…
“I love you.”
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Amazing how my parting from my parents, though not at such a young age, helped me to get to know them. It has healed some wounds, made me more gentle with others and given me appreciation for a hot cup of coffee with someone I love.
Glad to hear that, Pete. As the saying goes, with God “nothing is wasted.”
I got sidetracked with your title. Three years ago a niece called and out of the blue said, “Mom’s dead.” A terrific shock. She was the last of my four siblings. Similarly, though, I’ve found out how much she, and the others, really meant to me only after they were gone.
Apparently, that’s often the case, Lois.
Mitch, I love your stories about your dad, and I know they say so much about people and relationships in general. I suspect this post touched a lot of hearts today. I for one took a moment to pause and be thankful for my parents’ long marriage and long lives, even though they involved time spent in the end dealing with serious health issues. These gave my sister and me an opportunity to show them the love and patience they had shown us for so many years.
I’m glad for all of you too, Annie, that you had that time together.
One of my first blog posts was about my experience with my dad and Alzheimer’s. It was a real learning/growing experience for me.
http://seekingdivineperspective.com/2018/08/10/perspective-on-alzheimers/
My dad was 20 years older than yours when he died (still a “young” age today) unexpectedly on sudden heart-death. Plus I was older than you were. Thank God, I already had developed a deep belief, and although we never talked about the weight he put on me, I was in peace with him. Still the situation felt surreal too. No one had expected this to happen at that time.
<3
Death of someone close to you always seems surreal, Erika I think it’s often those times when the Lord gets us thinking about eternal things, the things we don’t think about much when things are “normal.”
That’s true. Since my father had a company and tried to get it sold for retirement reasons, I was sure, he would never leave before he got that done. Things turned out differently. But since I don’t believe in coincidents, I did not deny what happened or resist the new reality. My mind needed time to install that new program.
I’m sorry you didn’t have your father longer than you did. As you know, God’s plan isn’t always our plan. Hopefully, you and your mother were able to help one another through the grief process. Your resemblance to your dad in your parents’ wedding photo is quite obvious. Thanks for a life story well told. 🙂
Thank you for your kind words, Nancy.
God knows why everything turns out the way they do
You manage to make the rest of us feel better about some of our own “roads not taken”!
Had you decided differently, it would have been a very different “you” who ended up with all those millions ~ one who had not been so true to himself, so wasn’t connected to gratitude or tranquility in its spending.
Aw, thank you, Ana.
Wow! Are you writing a memoir? I’m writing mine and boy does that make us open our eyes to our past. and take away the fun of judging others! It’s a painful and haunting experience, but slowly healing and freeing me to love other imperfect humans.
We couldn’t ask more than that for a memoir, could we, Eileen?
These words of yours echoed my own however for me my mother died at age 40 and with mixed emotions not sure how I was supposed to feel I was fifteen and I was one of seven children
What a heartwrenching loss, Eileen.
Yes it was 😢
“How should I grieve for a man I only realized I loved after he died? Every night in my dreams, Dad would walk in the door, and explain that his death had been “a big misunderstanding.” And now we could finish fixing us.”
This breaks my heart. But I’m also grateful you can share your father and your relationship with him prior to his passing with us.
I am certain he’s looking down and smiling at the man you’ve become. 🙏🏾💙
Bless you, dear trE.
I can’t imagine my dad suddenly dying at 45, and how that could have affected me. By the way, Mitch, you do an excellent job of teaching from your scars, and not so much from your wounds. More power (God’s kind) to you!
That’s so kind of you to say, David.
• Wow, this is incredible.
Thank you.
My parents were called home early (IMO). I share stories with my kids and niece about them to keep them with us. XO
<3
I like it!
My parents went through WW II. They got married in a DP Camp in Germany. They had discovered they were soul mates and knew that they would never return to their homeland Latvia. In 1951 they arrived in NYC to start over. I was a way late in life baby and came along when my mom was 45 and my dad 51. It was unfortunate that in the 1960s there were no widening of the arteries operations. We lost my dad when I was 10. He was my best friend and I had no idea who mom was. Of that time I vividly remember the funeral overflowing people into the street because dad was a popular Latvian poet and writer. My godfather who was a doctor was checking mom’s pulse and I was praying not to be an orphan and then mom threw herself over the casket. But we survived and I am glad mom is now with dad.
Wow, that’s a truly remarkable family story, Rasma.
Your sense of humor and perpetual cheerfulness belie the suffering you’ve endured Mitch. I am so sorry.
That’s kind of you to say, Nancy, but I’ve suffered so little compared to many, many others.
Mitch,
The unfinished words between father and son. There are so many things I wishI could take back from conversations with my dad. If only if, right?
In Christ, Gary
Gary Avants Forbear Productions * *garyavants66@gmail.com garyavants66@gmail.com
Indeed, my friend.
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Mitch,
Congratulations! You have been a blessing to me and so many. May you have many more years to come.
In Christ, Gary
Gary Avants Forbear Productions * *garyavants66@gmail.com garyavants66@gmail.com
Thank you so much, my friend.
Nice! I hope you read mine too! Btw, I am new here, please visit my blog❤️