It’s a very, very sad day…

It is a very sad day for me and my family. After battling and recovering from prostrate cancer, then trying to fight lung cancer, my father lost that battle this morning around 1am.

I just learned of my father’s lung cancer a couple months ago when he told me he did not have much time to live. I was not sure what to do, how to console him, or even how to deal with the situation. The most meaningful thing I could think to do, was to write him a letter and share my fondest memories together. My step-mother Hattie told me today that this letter meant a great deal to him. I post this publicly mainly for friends and family, however perhaps this approach will inspire others to do the same for their loved ones in a similar situation. BTW, the pictures posted are of course unrelated to the subject matter, but rather to show/celebrate my father’s life.

Dear Dad:

I can’t tell you how much I’ve been struggling the past few weeks since I learned of your illness. While I knew the inevitable would eventually happen, I certainty did not expect it this soon. I suppose some of the warning signs were on the wall and that you’ve known for a while now. I wanted to let you know how much I love you by sharing some of my fondest memories together.

When I was about nine or ten you dropped me and Cary [my sister] off at Ron and Mary Ann’s [aunt and uncle] house for a week. Darren [cousin], who is a couple years younger, had just gotten a mini bike—during my visit I had learned how to ride it. When you came back a week later to pick us up, I was so proud to show you how skilled I’d become at riding. As you drove up the road leading to the house on the hill, I raced down to meet you. When you got out of the car, you were so angry with me…or perhaps your frustration was pointed at Ron and Mary Ann for not asking you if it was okay if I rode the motor bike. I could not understand your anger at the time, but later realized you were just being protective…that you were very nervous about my safety while riding. What you did not realize at the time, was that my acquaintance with the mini-bike was one that provided a great sense of freedom and happiness. I recall during my younger years how protective you were…you worried a lot about Cary and me.

After that week at Ron and Mary Ann’s, all I could talk about was how much I wanted a mini-bike like Darren’s. Given that Darren was two years younger, I could not understand why it was okay for him to have a mini-bike, and not me. The next summer in Seattle, I believe I was ten, you were on the couch sleeping and I went outside to mess around. I noticed a big tarp under the deck that was clearly covering something. As an extremely curious kid, I had to learn what was underneath. When I lifted the tarp to expose the covered obstacle, I was awe-struck. I could not believe what I was looking at. I had to do a double take to make sure my eyes had not deceived me. I lowered the tarp and raced up the outside deck stairs, opened the sliding door, and began shaking you violently in order to wake you from your nap.

You never liked to be woken from a nap, but this was of an urgent matter. I exclaimed, “Dad, Dad…what is that underneath the tarp…under the deck???” You had some some smart ass reply like, “What tarp, what are you talking about?” I replied, “the mini-bike dad! Whose is it, why is it there?” Your nonchalant reply, “Oh, that…I’m holding it for a friend whose kid has a birthday next week.” While your reply was devastating, it did make sense. My birthday was months earlier, and, Christmas was a long way off. I so wanted that mini-bike to be mine, but now my enthusiasm was all but a whimper. With my head hung low, I sauntered back outside where I sat on the steps of the deck feeling dejected. If I recall correctly, you let me stew for a little while. Then, you came out…casually popping your head beyond the door and said, “The bike is yours!” Stunned, and not quite sure I heard you correctly, I managed to speak a near inaudible, “What?” You said, “The bike, it’s yours…I was just teasing you.” I had just come off a roller coaster of emotion…one of excitement, then down to a gloomy low, then back to a feeling of elation. At that moment, and to this day, you were the greatest dad in the world. That bike made me so happy…for so long. I recall you loading it into your car and taking it to Julie’s [my aunt] for me, for a weekend of trailblazing. A couple years later when you bought the cabin on Harstine, I had a whole new playground to explore.

Next Story…

A few years earlier, Cary and I went to the park up the street and were accosted by a bully. We came back to the house and told you what had happened…you said something like, “Why didn’t you stand up to the kid?” I think I replied “I don’t know how, he was much bigger and older…that I don’t know how to fight.” You then began to give me some pointers on boxing and helped build my confidence.

A week or so later I saw the bully in the park, but rather than waiting for him to pick on me, I just walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, leaned back, and let a right hook cold-cock him square in the nose. Both of us were stunned for a moment. Me, for having the moxie to follow through, and he for both the pain he was feeling as well as the shock of this small runt two years his junior who just socked him in the nose. At that moment, it seemed I had woken a giant. As he steadied himself, he said, “I’m going to get you!” All I could think to do was run…and run I did! I was a very fast kid. I ran into the tennis court where a game was being played. I jumped up on a ledge and turned just as the bully was upon me. I decided flight would not end the skirmish, so I found the determination to continue to fight…to the end. Just as the bully reached for me, I used the height advantage I had by being on the ledge to my benefit. In one fell swoop, I kicked the bully as hard as I could in the head. Stunned once again, the bully fell to the ground. Not letting trepidation get to me a second time, I jumped atop the bully and began hitting him everywhere I could. Finally the bully got up and began to run away…with the parting words… “I’ll get you for this, Shubic!”

A week or so later, I was in the park playing with a local female friend…when out of the blue, the bully was upon me. He had fire in his eyes. I was so afraid at that moment, but before blows could be thrown, my female companion said, “Hey so-and-so, remember what he did to you last time…you’d better get out of here or he’ll do it again.” Thankfully those words resonated with the bully and he left…never to bother me again.

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Near that same timeframe, I started to play baseball. Our team, including myself, really sucked. You had an idea to help us…you became the umpire! lol…remember? Your strategy was to assist us in helping us know when to swing the bat or not…by preemptively saying “Sttttttrrrrrrriiiiike.” Or, “Baaaaaaall.” I can’t recall if we actually got better or not, but I do recall meeting the ball with the bat the first time and having a big grin on my face as I rounded first base.

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I mentioned Harstine Island earlier, as a place I loved to ride my mini-bike. When you first took Cary and me there, I could not believe what you had done—clearly you had more vision than I at that moment. Harstine provided a lot of fond memories over the years…including many cherished father-and-son moments.

It must have taken us three summers and countless loads of tongue-and-groove cedar to finish the ceiling. It took many more years, but you and Hattie made a lovely home out of what was once a decrepit shack.

I’ll never forget how you teasingly blamed me for killing that old man…

As I got a bit older and outgrew the mini-bike, you once again surprised me with that blue, Honda 175cc. For some reason I cannot remember the year, or the circumstances, but I will never forget how that extra horsepower took me to places that the mini-bike never could. Just up the hill from the cabin was an entrance to a forest service road where I could explore the interior of the island.

The access to the forest service road was just off the main road and required a steep accent up a hill. I used to love to give it all she had (the bike that is) and hit this one spot at the top perfectly that would launch me into the air. I would ride up and down that hill, each time trying to get higher and higher as I built more confidence. Unbeknownst to me, just adjacent to the forest service road was some private land owned by a neighbor who would often harvest and chop firewood. This old man hated listening to me rev the motorbike engine up and jump over and over—so, one day he thought he’d teach me a lesson by moving a log in front of the road at the top of the hill. One day I was racing up the hill and did not see the log until the very last minute. Since I was going up a steep hill I only had two options. One, dump the bike and risk injury. Or two, find my spot where I knew I could get air and jump over the log. Of course I choose the latter. At full open throttle I hit my jump perfectly and got great height, just enough to clear the log. While in the air I saw that old man looking at me with an expression of disdain. While in the air, I waved at him with a big grin on my face. The grin was mainly in jubilation for making it over the log, but I think the ol’ man took my smile as a sign of disrespect—it may have been a little bit of both, since the son-of-a-bitch tried to injure me.

Not long after, I was back at the cabin. We were both enthusiastically rooting for the Seahawks when there was a knock at the door. You wanted me to get the door…I told you to get it! Neither of us wanted to miss a moment of the game. I finally acquiesced and was stunned to find the ol’ man at the door, shaking with such anger. He asked me to get you, when I went into the living area and told you, you were so peeved. You hurriedly spoke with him, then raced back to the game and asked, “What did I miss?” I was so worried you were going to be angry with me, but all you said was, “leave that old man alone will ya, you’re going to kill him.” Truer words were never spoken as he died but a week or so later.

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One of my saddest memories on the island, and one that I have always cherished was the time that I had just spent all my money on that black 4×4 Ford truck and ended up rolling it into a ditch just a week after I bought it. It took me hours to walk all the way back to the cabin, much of it in the rain. It was nearly dark by the time I arrived, I was soaked to the bone, shivering and exhausted…mostly emotional exhaustion. I was fully expecting you to tear my head off for being so stupid, but instead, you hugged me and told me everything would be okay. You must have known that yelling at me would do no good…that I could feel no worse than I did at that moment. Then, you went into action—you got on the phone and had a tow truck meet us out at the site of the accident and took care of everything for me. Thankfully, the truck was not as damaged as it could have been.

Of course there were also a number of times that I pissed off the neighbors, at which time I received an earful from you…like the when I was doing donuts on the beach with my motorcycle. How was I to know that there were oyster beds being cultivated. All I could see was the excitement in front of me for finding beach access on an island circumambient of cliffs.

I also have such fond memories of when we’d go over to Nyssa and Al’s cabin [step-mother’s folks] for cocktails and enjoy a card game and some revelry. Those two were the sweetest people ever…I can still hear Al’s distinctive laugh, and fondly remember Nyssa’s caring nature. I can also hear your voice telling me that the purchase of Al’s boat was a dumb idea. You were so right about that one. Chalk it up to one of many life lessons I’ve had to learn on my own.

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There were a few incidents that I actually managed to keep secret for a few years, such as my most embarrassing moment ever…a story I now share on occasion:

My girlfriend and I at the time went to the cabin to spend a few days during the middle of the week. We hopped on my motorcycle and cruised over to the pool. There was not a person around and it was a gloriously sunny day. I made the suggestion that perhaps we should lie out nude. The suggestion was met by a resounding “no” by my girlfriend. She said, “what if someone were to come?” I explained that there were few people on the island during the middle of the week, and besides, we’d hear them come up in plenty of time to get dressed. With a bit more coaxing, she acquiesced. We had a wonderful time frolicking in the pool—then finally finding solace in one of the chaise lounge chairs. The sun had tuckered us out and we both had ended up falling asleep. I began having a strange dream…one where there were people surrounding us…trying to get our attention. Come to find out, that dream was a nightmare because it was reality! There must have been 8-10 people standing right next to us trying to get our attention. Mind you, we were both lying on our backs (full monty). As soon as I discovered what was happening, I pulled the only towel out from underneath my girlfriend who was lying on it. This sudden motion woke her up. As soon as she realized what was going on, she yanked the towel back from me. We hurriedly put our clothes back on and got the hell out of there…in disgrace. I figured my girlfriend would never talk with me again after such an embarrassing episode. We hopped on my bike and tore off. Half way back to the cabin…we both simultaneously, burst out laughing.

I also recall some of our family events we had out at the cabin, like Forth-of-July. We would get a bunch of fireworks from the Indian Reservation and I would light them off on the beach for everyone to see from the vantage point of the deck. We had a lot of fun at those family gatherings. So much laughter, teasing of one another…and, of course, just good ol’ revelry.

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I also think the cabin was the spot that you first taught me how to fish; unfortunately we never seemed to catch much. I still laugh at the time we went out on your boat at Marrowstone and both of us got really good bites at nearly the same time. You were convinced that we had caught each others’ line, however that didn’t explain the fact that my fish got away, and yours took off running. Your reel was humming! You said, “quick, help me slow this down!” As I frantically looked for a glove to put on to protect my hand from the racing line, and made my way to you, the final loops of line ran out just as I reached to grab it. Talk about the one that got away! You taught me to look for a distinct lineation in the water that shows the changing of the tide…we were right on that thing when we caught those fish.

Oh, gosh, I also remember the time that I went to the cabin alone…perhaps to do some work there.

One of your garden beds was full of broccoli and cauliflower—just about ready for harvest. You said to me, “Hey, be sure to scare off any deer that try and get in the garden. If you hear hoofs on the deck, be sure to get up and scare them off.” Well, sure as shit, that first night I was there I heard hooves on the deck…I got out of bed and hurried outside. Just before I opened the door, I turned on those super bright floodlights. As I peered down at the garden, I could not believe my eyes. The entire garden, some 50+ heads of broccoli and cauliflower were completely gone. Not even a leaf remained. Apparently, I heard the hooves as the deer were leaving, not coming. Boy, I sure did not look forward to giving you that news.

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As you will recall, I had quite an infatuation with cars at an early age. And, a habit of getting in them and driving into the house. After the second time, you must have learned your lesson and decided that it was time to actually teach me how to drive. I couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 and I recall you letting me in your lap and driving. That was such a thrill for me. I remember the first time; I kept hitting the brakes way too early. I was worried about hitting the car in front of us, but apparently we were way, way behind it. I think as a kid our perceptions are not fully developed. I can’t tell you what a thrill it was that you let me drive!

Next Story…

One thing that I noticed about you from an early age was how generous you were. My first memory of this was again, about 7 or 8.

If Cary or I were playing in the yard with friends near dinnertime, you’d always ask them if they wanted to stay. I recall one friend who was always excited when you’d cook steak, as that was such a treat for him. All the kids in the neighborhood thought you were the coolest dad on the block. If we went out to dinner with friends or family, you’d always insist on paying.

Your generosity extended beyond monetary things. When I lived with you after high school, I recall your willingness to stay at Hattie’s place so that I could have friends over. That hot tub got a lot of use. 🙂

Whenever we’d head out to do some errands or visit grandma or grandpa, you’d often take us to the Spud at Green Lake for lunch or dinner. “Single with extra fish and a chocolate shake,” we’d all order. I think one of the reasons that I still love going to the Spud whenever I’m in Seattle, is just because of those fond childhood memories together. Actually, I recall that if we went to see Grandma, it was a toss-up between Spud and Kid Valley.

Early on you taught me the importance of a good work ethic, rarely was anything handed to us, but rather we’d have to work for it. I remember when you owned that restaurant and I’d often go with you on the weekends to vacuum and clean up for extra money. I used to get a kick out of getting some pop from behind the bar out of the soda gun.

When it was time for our first cars, your deal was, however much money we could save up, you’d double it. You didn’t care how long we saved, that when we were ready, we’d tell you how much we had and you’d match it. I thought that was a good deal and struck a good balance. Of course, I was very antsy to get my first vehicle, so I only saved up around $1700. I think I spent about $3100 on my first car…that blue, Datsun truck. I even had a couple hundred dollars left over for insurance and a tank of fuel. Even though I went to an affluent high school, where many of the kids were driving brand new vehicles (often expensive ones), I was very proud of my truck since I had worked for it. I think without question people appreciate things when they have to work for them rather than being handed out.

I know you are not happy or proud by many of my life choices, but one thing I’ve tried to do is live life to its fullest. I am so thankful for everything you’ve done for me and I’m so grateful to have had you has my father.

I love you so very much…a piece of you will always be with me.

Forever your son,
Michael

If you knew my father, or have a story of your own to share, I’d love to hear from you…please post a comment below.