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Death and Taxes

9/6/2021

Here's a little saying used over and over when we seek certainty.

"Nothing is certain but death and taxes."

We will say it to ourselves, we will say it to others; others will say it to us when we're asking for some sort of certainty about some sort of thing for which certainty cannot be gained nor granted.

The only thing certain and that cannot be avoided is Death, and Death alone.

See how we added in "taxes" to what is certain, so we didn't have to just acknowledge Death on it's own as the only thing completely out of our control? We added a lie to the truth to make us feel better. This is a common thread in the patchwork fabric of our lives. We added a lie to the truth and called it knowledge.

Right this very moment there is someone, several someone's who have been successfully proving that taxes are no certainty for a great many years and many have met Death while being successful in avoiding the call of taxes. Sure. Bernie Madoff had been paying but he did not die with a tax account in the black. Taxes are not certain.

Death is the only thing certain in this world, and even so, is a very uncertain thing in itself. Who? When? Where? How? Why?

Even Death is not certain as a science with all of it's methods and ambiguities and randomness.

If Death and Taxes are the only things certain in this life, and I have just demonstrated that neither are certain, what certainty then exists?

None. Zero. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Yet, each of has searched high and low for something to be certain about. Our relationships, our jobs, the things and people we love. Some of us think we have found certainty in something and find comfort in it. But it's a lie. The comfort is not genuine. It is just another of our many illusions.

A more appropriate saying would be: "In this world nothing is certain but our ability to find peace in the lack of certainty if we choose to do so.

Choice is certain. We always have one. We may not have what we believe is a good choice, but the choices exist. Right down to having the barest minimum of choices in any given situation: "Do this or don't". Choice is present. Choice is constant. Choice is certain.

Think of the many times, in various situations that you made a choice and then followed it with "I had no choice, I had to (insert what you HAD to do here)" You did have a choice, each and every time. Whether we made the right choice will show itself, or remain a mystery. Choice was certainly there.

Maybe the phrase should be "In this world nothing is certain but the physical death of all living things and the choices we make between now and then". Too long, not very uplifting posted on the fridge, and adds to our responsibility for our lives instead of giving us something we can say we have no control over. It's easier to believe things are out of our control than accepting that, for the most part, they are quite IN our control based on our choices.

We always have a choice and the ability to use those choices for the business of living. When we undertake life with the understanding that there are no certainties other than the physical death of all living things and the choices we make between now and then, it puts a lot of responsibility for our lives squarely on our own shoulders. Suddenly we must acknowledge that their is another certainty; Fear.

Fear has no more control over us than we have over the certainty that Death will visit each living thing in it's time. It is however certain that we will face Fear frequently and each time we give into it, it will grow until every choice we make is mired in the sticky, flaming ugliness of Fear. Reacting to life rather than taking action and using the choices that are always certainly there to be made.

The problem becomes learning that Fear is an honest to goodness illusion that makes David Copperfield's best look like one of Grandpa's old parlor tricks.

Not only is it an illusion, but Fear is entirely created by us. Suffered upon us in whatever measure we choose to allow.

Fear is born of, and resides in our desire for certainty. Certainty also does not exist, but casts itself as another illusion. Until the illusion breaks down.

Fear is illusion that we anoint with reality and allow it to grow, Sometimes until it takes over our entire lives and becomes the basis of every action and choice we make.

Believing it is real, does not make it so, but it absolutely leads us to act as if it were so.

Fear has always been the biggest downfall of mankind. How has something non-existent come to rule life on this planet?

Choice and agreement. In all things controlled by Fear, we have chosen to accept it as real and we've all agreed that this choice makes it real, and we are therefore entitled to succumb to the whims of Fears manipulation.

Don't believe me? How many people agree that a black cat crossing their path is a portent of evil ahead? How many people agree that walking under a ladder, spilling salt or breaking a mirror will bring untold horrors upon them? They are legion, that's how many. The shackles of fear based in superstition clank with every step we take. Even though Fear exists only in our minds.

Death though; Death in and of itself is real and certain to all living beings. Being the most unknowable and uncertain of all life's events, it has the greatest ability to conjure the illusion of Fear. Such a great ability that it created for us an image of The Grim Reaper.

Scary fella there to be sure. But the fact is even the Reaper is illusion, manifest in our imaginary reality by common choice and agreement to give him a seat at the table of reality.

If the Reaper were real and it was his/her/their purpose to guide us from life to the certainty of death, we've done a great disservice in making the Reaper scary and evil. To the Reaper and ourselves.

The myth of the Grim Reaper is one hundred percent the creation of some long gone person or people, and is perpetuated by the living day in, day out.

Death is simply the most unknowable thing encountered by every living thing that has ever lived. Some people choose to live in constant fear of life in it's entirety as a result. Some people chose to live without giving much weight and measure to that which is not within their control and use their choices to live without fear of the uncertain certainty of death or anything else not in their control.

You can certainly not tell which people are which by looking at them.

I am one of those who chose to live in constant fear of life in it's entirety. I apologize to anyone who ever fell for the illusion that I created of being the other type. Those who called me brave, courageous, well put together, fearless, tough or anything else meant to convey admiration of my ability to get hit and get back up, I apologize. I'm sorry that I fooled you. Not as sorry as I am that I fooled myself though.

Classic chicken and egg here; Did I fool myself first and then others, or did I fool them first and then myself with their belief in what they had been taught to believe? In any case it has been a wake up call to understand how fully and deeply I lied to and fooled myself. It is baffling how completely unaware I had become that I was lying and creating an illusion of myself rather than Being.

For me it goes back to Death and the illusion of Fear that I allowed myself to conjure.

In my defense, I was very young when Death was presented to me. Not as a reality in the moment, but as a concept that was necessarily imparted to me.

The first time I remember hearing about Death, I was very young and my Grandpa had had a heart attack.

I also had no knowledge of what a "heart attack" was. I learned quickly that it could lead to "Death", but I also did not know what Death was, and there the initial seeds of Fear were planted and over time, the illusion of Fear became a "real", living, breathing, scary thing.

The second time Death appeared as a concept was when my brother was hit by a car while I was chasing him and it was possible he could die as a result. Neither my brother nor my grandfather died, but the concept was now there, though I still had no idea what it meant.

I cannot pretend to remember how death was explained to me, or who explained it, but I know I had more questions than answers. With no answers, Fear took over. I have a class project I did in second or third grade. It is a stick type drawing comparable to other stick type drawings of other second or third graders. It defined "what I fear most"; Death, Rather a morbid school project, thinking about it now.

This new concept I had only recently heard of, became the catalyst of Fearing what lurked around every corner. Death and every bad possibility could just jump out and get me at any time and I had no control over it.

I lived with this growing, underlying Fear for years before Death ever actually visited me. It came in hard, fast and frequent when it arrived. In May of 1980 when I was 14 years old Death made it's first appearance when my Grandpa had another heart attack and did in fact die.

It was horrifying. With my years invested in living in fear of it, I still knew nothing about it, and to this day, seeing my Grandpa dead in a casket is something that I have never made peace with. I remember being angry with people saying he looked good. He did not look good, because he did not look like my Grandpa much.

I remember one of his elderly aunts bending over to kiss his forehead. I remember thinking I should do that. But I was afraid to. I thought it may bring Death to me.

I summoned the courage though, to touch his hand. The hand that had often held or touched me, the hand that taught me, along with my fathers, how to cast a fishing pole, clean a fish. The hand that balanced my bicycle when the training wheels came of until it released, allowing me to see my fear of two wheels was unfounded and I indeed could ride that bicycle all by myself. I actually have a replica of that very bike hanging my garage.

The hand that had meant so much, was always warm, and strong and comforting, was cold and as lifeless as the fish I had caught and cleaned. I had never felt anything like that and recoiled in terror, running to the basement of the funeral home.

It simply could not be real. It was not real in my mind. It was illusion. My Grandpa was alive, he could not be dead, and he was somewhere I couldn't see.

I looked everywhere while the illusion of Fear encouraged me to manifest it's reality. I even found a way to convince myself that it was my fault that Grandpa had died.

Before I had remotely come to accept the reality of my grandfathers death and what it meant, Death visited me again less than two months later.

While not a family member, it was even harder to grasp because it was a girl a mere one year older than me.

She was a classmates older sister and attended the same school. I cannot say we were friends, because at that time a years age difference put people in different classes and circles.

But I knew her. She knew me. Angie was someone though. Even though I was her twerp sisters twerp classmate, she was nice to me, and everybody. She was pretty, she was confident, she was successful in everything she did in her young life. As far as anyone could see anyway. She represented what I might be after another year of living and learning.

One day in July of 1980, she was riding her bicycle home and was killed instantly when stuck by a car. Right in front of her house. Right in view of her parents on the porch.

It was horrendous for damn near everybody in that school. It was our first knowledge that we were not invincible and were not guaranteed another minute. It brought our own certainty of Death to the forefront of my thinking.

I did not go to Angie's funeral because I couldn't bring myself to do it. I did not want that experience again. My grandfathers was too fresh and too horrifying.

In short order, Death began to visit more frequently. Older distant relatives whose funerals I did go to because they were family and I was not given a choice and didn't know that I did have a choice. I could have refused to go in. I didn't have that choice because I didn't know I had it. I didn't know I had it because I was not taught that I had choice in all things.

In not being able to find answers to all my questions I became very angry. As it turns out, anger is quite simply a response to some fear of some sort.

I started getting in trouble. In hindsight, I have this thought that I may have started getting in trouble because my Grandpa had been a policeman earlier in life and had a scanner next to his recliner that he would listen to throughout the day. I think it's quite possible in my under developed mind that if I got in trouble and it was on the scanner, my Grandpa would hear it and have to come back from where ever he was hiding to straighten me out. Begin the formation of a steady stream of irrational thinking and causing me to put far too much emphasis in finding things to fear.

Since then Death has visited so many times, and in so many unexpected ways, for so many unexpected people.

My Mom, my sister, friends, cousins, customers, co-workers, acquaintances. Very few of these deaths were the result of people living to ripe old ages. Most deaths in my life have been without warning.

With every visit from Death, rather than become more accepting and comfortable with it, the Fear has grown to unsustainable proportions. I have allowed myself no choice in these matters and as a result have harmed myself greatly in all matters of life. I have let Fear rule my entire existence and now that I know I have choices, I am responsible to myself and all those around me to acknowledge the choices and make them. And I must make them with hope and faith as my guide rather than Fear.

Easier said than done right? Not really. It's only easier said than done if choice does not exist. But as we have established, choice is a certainty.

Death does not take a holiday. While it may appear to not be visiting us, Death is certainly not on vacation. It is simply visiting others that we know or don't know until it finds it's way back to us.

It has come back to me in the past few months with vigor. And right about the time that I had been noticing that for the most part, Death had been absent from my doorway since 2014 when my Aunt Donna died. Before that I was free of Deaths knock since my sister Toni died in 2010.

In rapid succession my cousin Paul, a year younger than me was gone. Then one who could claim age as a factor unexpectedly died. This one I took even harder because she had unofficially adopted me as her little brother. She was a writer who liked my writing and would have gladly guided me to believing in my own writing and possibly writing a book as soon as I asked. I know jack about writing books. I never got around to asking.

With her, I procrastinated and procrastinated until the opportunity was gone.

This visit from Death was followed just a couple weeks later by the completely unexpected suicide of my friend and guitar player in our band. The death was and is hard. The unexpected nature of it launched me into a set of fears so deep, and so dark that they were beyond my comprehension and I had zero tools to deal with it. That was the last piece of Fear that I was able to handle. Actually, it was the first visit from fear that I could not and did not handle.

It enveloped me in Fear. A terrifying fear of every single thing in life. Not just death. Fear of success and failure, fear of every one around me, fear of my relationships, fear of literally anything and everything and everyone in my life. Fear that if one of the more well put together individuals in my life could not find peace and happiness, I had no chance.

Life became very, very dark, very suddenly.

In conjunction with Marks death a slew of other things that I "had no choice in" seemed to be falling like rain drops and I was convinced peace, happiness and contentment would always elude me.

In hindsight it is not a surprise that Fear took the wheel and I began attempting to destroy anything that could hurt me before it succeeded. Not realizing that the Fear was only in my mind.

I broke. I broke to the point that the entirety of my Fears started manifesting as reality, rather than the illusion they were.

I could not control my thoughts, I could not control my emotions, I could not put the fear at bay and it swallowed me. It grasped me so ferociously that I truly did not want to live. I also did not want to die. I also believe that there was one rational piece of my mind that knew there were more choices than living or dying. One tiny little dot of light that said, "there is still journey ahead". One tiny dot that made me think about life outside of the pain. The people, the pets, the dreams that are mere choices a way.

I'm grateful for that, but damage was done both to me and others around me. A further dive into deeper fear of the unknown ensued and I looked like a villain pulling out weapon after weapon to prevent my demise. I was not in danger of demise. I was following the lead of the most trusted, untrustworthy leader; Fear. Fear that exists only in the mind. The fear that exists in the mind is not real. It has no ability to protect, to give aid and comfort. It's only power is destruction.

To those who say Fear is real, not just in the mind, I assure you that is incorrect. Some will say "but if a vicious dog is snarling and growling at me Fear is real and my friend, and makes me get out of the dogs range.

That too is illusion that we were taught to see as real. While in the presence of a vicious, snarling dog, you may equate what you feel with the illusion of fear, but the reality is, Fear doesn't take you out of the line of attack. Common sense does.

Fear loves to masquerade as common sense. That is how Fear is successful in casting it's illusory self as real.

In losing my ability to control my thoughts and emotions and being afraid that I would be stuck in that place, I came face to face with the fact that I had no choice but to fall to the madness.

Then, a spot of light. Somewhere, somehow, I did have a choice and it needed to be made. I knew this to be a fact because I was transported back to another opportunity I had to exercise choice and did and was successful in my real choice beating the illusion of what I feared.

When I finally saw the light with my drinking, I was living in fear that I would never be able to stop. That it was out of my control. That it would get worse and worse and it was already unbearable. I lived in fear that I would kill myself or someone else and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I lived in the guilt of things that I was afraid of happening, and the waves of real guilt over the life I had taken. I began to fear that not being able to stop drinking made me want to die because I was choosing to do something that could kill me, one way or another. I was choosing.

In that moment, while I was actually drunk, it occurred to me that I could also choose to quit drinking. The only person that could make me drink was me, and I had 100% responsibility for that choice. When I woke up the next morning, I knew I would not drink again. I would never risk being swallowed by that demon again when I knew all I had to do was choose to not drink and that if I ever chose to drink again, I would being choosing every possible outcome that comes with it.. Period. That's it. End of story.

Except it's not. That wisdom that it was my choice made it so easy to not drink. Even in rough times because drinking held no value for me. It would not solve whatever problem I faced. It would try to kill me again.

So I learned the certainty and value of choice. Every day I became more confident in my choice and everyday I could see clearer how badly it affected it my life. How much I suffered at my own hands. Then I started looking at everyone differently.

I never looked like a guy who was doing what I was doing. I began to realize I was not the only one who had been so messed up with drinking. I began to realize that there are others feeling as horrible or worse than me and I became more inspired to make a daily choice not to drink, so that maybe I would be able to help some other stuck person see the choice they could make and how great it would make their life.

Had I known I could apply that same theory and choice to fear, had I even known how much fear controlled my life, I would probably be further along on the path of peace and contentment.

But I didn't know and I didn't apply it, and like the drinking, Fear almost killed me.

But it didn't.

Being yet alive, the next logical step is to question everything and it turns out everything for me went back to a wholehearted belief in the illusion of Fear.

All this right as Death has been preparing to visit once again. Fear arrived with it.

So did memory of the knowledge of the certainty of choice.

Deaths next visit known appearance will take my Dad. Fear tells me I will be an adult orphan with nobody who brought me into the world and tried to guide me through it. Fear tells me that at 55 years old I will become the old man of the family. Fear tells me that will give me responsibilities and obligations that I do not want but will have to accept because "I have no choice". Fear tells me that I will have to do things I've "had to do" in other deaths because I had "no choice".

Fear is yelling at me to remember being with three people when they breathed their last and I was not at all comfortable but was afraid if I wasn't there, something bad would happen or I would be thought badly of. Fear reminds me of four obituaries I've written because I had no choice. Four obituaries I did not want to write because I didn't feel I was able to capture a life in such a brief form. But I had to.

There are three basically instinctual reaction to fear, whether it is the illusion of fear or the reality of common sense fear of danger. They are fight, flight, or freeze.

There are no other options in the instant Fear arises. I have mostly chosen fight as a response in my life. I have also frequently chosen flight when no one knew I was running from something. Freeze has been less prevalent and usually only the result of not being able to decide whether to fight or fly.

In honestly looking at how much my life was a product of the Fear that was only in my mind, I had the thought that somehow Fear was not so different from drinking. I really looked at how my every move was predicated on fear. I was afraid of everything and acting like I wasn't. Fear owned me, just like drinking did. Everybody knows an addict just can't quit what they're addicted to right?

Except I, and others, have proven that false.

So what to do?

The solution is obvious: I certainly have the choice to live in all the illusions fear can produce, or I can realize that fear is a choice I am making and have made all my life.

I've made the choice to accept Fear as an illusion, not reality in any way.

I have chosen, with great focus and intent to make "Freeze" my regular reaction to Fear.

Not because I cannot decide between fighting or running, but because I do not want to fight or run from something that does not exist!

I choose "Freeze" because I have to stop, I have to look at the Fear in front of me and see it is something I am making up to scare myself. An illusion and self punishment for whatever wrongs I hold myself responsible for.

When I Freeze, I can then make rational and conscious choices.

The availability of choice is always present and it is my responsibility to be as aware of that as I am aware that no one can make me drink but me.

Nobody can cause me to live in fear but me.

While Death is indeed on it's way, I am taking the opportunity to use this new found truth to my greatest advantage.

I fear that my Dad will die while I'm there. I do not want to see another person die as long as I live. I do not ever want to see a body again. I do not like it. In the past I went against what I wanted because of the Fear of what others would think of me. I "had no choice".

But I did. Fear just obscured it. I never HAD to be with anyone in their final moments and hear their final words and breaths. I COULD have chosen to not do what didn't feel right to me if I'd have seen there was a choice.

So, in choosing "Freeze" as my stock response to Fear, I get to clear the water and see the choices available. When I can clearly make a choice, Fear instantly loses and this concept applies to so many things in life.

The choices available may not be the ones we'd like, but they are what we have. I choose to find choices, and make the one that feels best.

In the case of my Dad, I am choosing to not follow the instructions of those who believe I should run to his side right this minute in case he dies. I do not want to watch him die, I do not want to be there to be comforted or to provide comfort. No one will be able to truly comfort me but me and my own perceptions. I can certainly not truly comfort any one else either.

I am choosing to not allow Fear to dictate my life or my actions. I am purposefully working at keeping the certainty of choice as my guiding principle.

I will indeed go see my Dad again as long as he is alive. Will he die in my presence? Maybe. But if he does it will because I choose to be there at the particular time that Death arrived and not because I was there as Fear directed me to be.

I hope that while I am there is not when the time arrives. If I am, so be it.

I also have choices in the aftermath. I have learned to greatly fear the aftermath of Death because the aftermath usually brings greed, disintegration of relationships and virtually everything the newly deceased would never allow if they weren't deceased.

Nothing like piling on the pain right?

The fear of that is an illusion. I have the choice to not participate in the aftermath, just because I'm supposed to. I can fear peoples actions or I can choose to let them do what they need to do and not let myself be sucked into it.

I have chosen not to do that. I have chosen that when my father leaves, my grief will be my own. I will not give nor accept comfort that is based in what is expected. Expectations are derived from Fear. I will not be a part of any parts of the aftermath that I do not like and have been unhealthy for me in the past.

For once I have actually had more than fair warning that Death was coming. It provided me with a choice to evaluate it and come to terms with it. In as much as knowing that death in and of itself is the ultimate course of all living beings, anyway. I also see the choices before me that will make it either a good and healthy passage or another death in which I have "no choice" but to do what is expected.

The most prominent truth is that no matter how prepared I think I am for it, I am not. My dads death will hit me like nothing ever before because I have never lost my father before.

I am going to be crushed with sadness, very few regrets, and the choices that I will need to make to honor my dad and my self will be before me. I have made the advance choice of doing my best to accept the sadness of my fathers death being that he has died and will no longer be available for any goofy question I may have.

I have chosen not to allow the sadness about my fathers death to become another wrong done to me, a reason to feel sorry for myself, proof that I have no choice but to suffer at the hands of the illusion of fear.

I have chosen to allow the sadness to slow me down as much as I need it to and I will not allow Fear to prod me into action or inaction.

I will let my fathers passing be what it is, The ultimate course of all living beings. I will do what is right for me in the aftermath, regardless of anybody's opinions or what is "traditionally right". That choice will undoubtedly have consequences, but unlike the potential consequences of drinking or living a life led by fear, I am willing to accept those consequences whatever they may be as long as they are imposed by my choice, and not submission to fear.

My fathers life has enabled mine. It has influenced me, driven me, inspired me and given me a model whose shoes I thought I could never fill. Of course I can't fill them! We're different shoe sizes to start with, and why would I try to fill shoes other than my own?

Fear.

My father taught me many, many things. I am grateful that what may be the last thing he teaches me while he's alive is that Fear is a choice. Being that it is a choice there is certainly an alternative.

I will always do my best to not chose Fear.

I will do my best to keep myself aware of the certainty of choice.

It is certainly more certain than the timing and manner of death or the inevitability of taxes.

I will chose to do my best.

Repeatedly. Daily.

As long as I breathe.

Now I'm going to go see Dad because I want to because I know his condition will now worsen everyday forward.

Should he pass while I'm there, it will simply be his last, best Bad Dad Joke.

And he'll have what he always called a "shit eatin' grin".

I chose to be grateful for my fathers death bringing me away from living a life led totally by fear.

Dad did not have one last Bad Dad Joke for me. He had one last gift for me. He validated my choice to live by choice, not fear. To not eat myself alive with misplaced guilt. To be a man of my word when it comes to accepting and honoring my committments to myself.

On my way to Appleton i did not have any fear whatsoever that he would actually die while i was there. The only fear i had was in that I wanted to play a song for him and I was afraid I would chicken out or screw it up badly.

Ive been practicing the song for a week or two. Uesterday I ayed it with a friend and was satisfied that could do it without screwing it up.

Yet I let that fear rattle in my brain in a generally light hearted way.

When I got there, prepared for idle chit chat while I worked up to asking Dad if I could get his guitar and play a song, my brother approached the car before I got out. As I stepped out, he told me, "Scott, Dad is gone." I asked "is he 'gone' like out of it, or gone like he died".

"Scott, he's dead. He just died, come in and see him".

I froze. I was seeing the fear of doing what i was supposed to, against choosing not to do what i did not want to do.

I thought it through and said I wasn't going in. I did not want to see my Dads body. My brother first resisted but stopped when he realized that i was committed to my position.

Except that when we got to my step Mom, Randy told her I didn't want go in. Enter next fear: "But hes uour father".

I said it just would serve no good purpose for me, and while I understood every elses position, I simply wasnt going to do anything that wasn't what I wanted. Bev told me that was ok, i had to do what was right for me. I knew she was disappointed and i just told the truth: I never want to see another body. Then she not only accepted my choice, but seemed to genuinely understand it.

My Uncle Lee came out. We expressed our sorrow over each others loss and talked.

I asked Randy to go get me Dads acoustic guitar and a pick. When he came back with it I strummed so my uncle would tell me if it was out of tune. Hes got a great ear. He nodded his approval of the tuning and I began to pick a G chord. You could see the recognition in Lee's eyes. You could see him trying to remember what the song was.

As i sang the first words of Merke Haggards "Sing Me Back Home", the recognition locked, he had a tear in his eye and sang quietly with me. He doesnt like his own voice much either.

I had to look away then because when I was afraid I would screw the song up if I sang it to my Dad, I was afraid I would screw it up by crying. I was determined, though a tear did fall. I knew that while no longer here, Dad was inside and I was singing to him and all I saw was the pride in my Dad's smile the many times we played together and I impressed him.

It was always a thrill to me that he felt I took something he gave me to a new level.

I am sad that my Dad has passed. I'm grateful I wasnt there when it happened. I'm grateful and proud of myself for not letting Fear push me through the door to see what I didn't want to see.

Im grateful that my last memory of my Dad is him trying to stand to give me a hug in his dark blue flannel pajamas and me telling him to stay and I'd come down. Im grateful we said "I love you" which has been a regular thing in the last few years.

My Dads last words to me on my way out were "drive safe". This was usual as well.

When we had all relaxed a bit Randy asked if I wanted to know what Dads last words were that anyone could make out.

Turns out my Dads last understandable words were when Randy left for work in the morning.

Dad said "drive safe".

Randy left work early and was there when Dad died. Like he was when Mom died. Thats going to put him in a whole world of hurt I will not be able to help him with and take care of myself. I told him that. He said he understood my choices, but didn't, but would. I could ask for nothing more.

I left when my Dads last ride showed up because I didnt want to see that either.

I feel better than I ever have in light of any death.

Whether my Dad stopped me from being there in the moment while still allowing me to be there instead of getting a phone call, I'll never know. But I'll always be grateful for it and every thing my Dad brought to my life.

I am not making any announcements other than this. There are others who will cover that as well. If you want to send me a heart or hug emoji on Facebook, please do. I also ask you to not burden yourself with trying to find the right words. There are none. I've burdened myself a bunch of times looking for words that didnt exist. I always disliked that feeling of obligation to say something. It made me feel inadequate at best.

You are free to offer your condolences with out words. Neither my Dad, nor I will mind.

I am ok. I am dealing with this on my terms and I will rely on the comfort that will come from within, first rather that looking for comfort from outside of myself.

It is the choice that feels most right to me, in this moment. I am living by choice, not Fear.

Moment by moment. I want to for once do this my way. I want to let the tide ebb and flow snd not try to dam it up. I am fully aware that the tide will high soon enough.

I am preparing to be able to ride that wave until I safely land ashore again.

I have made too much progress taking care of me to let it go now.

My Dad would be proud of me and I will be too.

Thanks again Daddio. For everything. I will flippin' miss you. And continue letting my shoes be mine, and your shoes be yours.

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