Remembering Pops

It was Dad's birthday on Feb. 13. His first since he died last April. It led me to the keyboard, and the words (and tears) flowed.

I hesitated before going back to the deck in Joey’s backyard.

To watch. To contemplate. To wonder.

The brake lights came on, disappeared and so did Pops in his Chevy Equinox as he took a right at the stop sign and headed home.

I couldn’t turn back and join everyone else at the bon fire. Something wasn’t sitting right – and it wasn’t from the good eats Joey always has at The Shed – with me.

When I did turnaround, Jyllie saw the look on my face. She knew something was off. I told her I was worried about Pops, my Dad, her grandpa. We were flying back to AZ the next day and I felt a void, an inclination and/or a need.

I wasn’t sure. But she said, “Let’s go.”

So we did.

We left Joey’s and went the opposite direction from the airport and took off for Dad’s house in Lorain.

Didn’t know just how important that decision was at the time, but God damn there are days when it gets me through. If I hadn’t there’d be a fuck ton of guilt.

It ended up being the last we ever saw Pops.

Just writing that breaks me. Words have power. That sentence hits harder than a Jim Brown stiff arm.

I ended up getting one more night with Pops. We watched ‘The Thing From Another World’ for the umpteenth time with Dad reminding me that it was one of the first movies where the actors talked over each other to make the interactions more realistic.

We talked here and there and watched the movie. He got up -even though it was difficult for him at that point – and grabbed three Neapolitan ice cream sandwiches for us.

He apologized. He usually has Nutty Buddy or regular ice cream sandwiches. Never Neapolitan, but we didn’t care.

It was perfect at the time.

The night went on a bit longer before Jyllie went to the spare bedroom and eventually Pops fell asleep on the couch so I turned off the TV, kissed him on the forehead and retreated to my bedroom.

I didn’t sleep right away. Took my time drifting off thinking how thankful I was we came out to his house instead of staying closer to the airport.

Woke up the next morning, and I was welcomed with a “Hello Handsome” and Bavarian cream doughnut.

It wasn’t long after that Jyllie and I were in the air and headed back home to AZ.

Six months later, I was reading his eulogy I wrote and wearing a suit in front a packed house.

It was incredibly emotional, and it was actually a great day. Hearing new and old stories. We all celebrated Pops.

By the end of the day the sadness began to return, just wanting some sign that everything was going to be OK; that Dad was good and hoped he was happy with everything that took place that day.

Jyllie, Amee and I went to our rental house. We were left with the heavy weight of the day. Needing something to get us through the rest of the night.

Turning to food – my vice during emotional struggles – to help heal, I opened the freezer knowing damn we didn’t buy anything that need to be frozen.

I couldn’t believe it. It made absolutely no sense. The odds were unfathomable.

I began to wonder. To contemplate. To shake my head.

I hesitated before saying anything to my ladies. I smiled. And thanked Pops.

For the Neapolitan ice cream sandwiches.