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IN THE LIVING YEARS... The song The Living Years by Mike And The Mechanics plays an important part in my life. It was co-written by Mike Rutherford and B. A. Robertson, both of whom had recently lost their fathers. The song combined features of both writers' relationships with their fathers; it dealt with Rutherford's strained relationship with his late father and the birth of Robertson's three months after his father's death. It's a sad reminder how I lost my father. He was more than my dad... sometimes he was my best friend. When I was a musician, my dad got my band to play in places other managers could get us booked. Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin may have been his favorites, but sure knew a bunch of Led Zeppelin songs! Sadly, toward the end, it seemed like I became the dad and he became the . Over the years, my dad had been withering away from a debilitating heart disease. I could no longer be his caretaker in his final days... he was much too sick and had to be hospitalized. He slipped in and out of consciousness so they put him in intensive care. The doctors informed me his kidneys weren't functioning and he had 24-36 hours to live. I went home that morning, notified family and friends and made plans to have out-of-town company. I wanted the place to look nice, so I hired a landscaper to cut the gress. Usually, I mowed my lawn, but I didn't have time. To my shock, the mower busted a (hose bib) faucet connected to main waterline leading to the house. Thinking it was an easy fix, I ran to The Home Depot for replacement parts. Most of the repair was going well, but I fought with 1" of rusted thread that wouldn't come out of the pipe fitting. I was considering giving up and calling a plumber. Instead, I got up early the next morning and tried again. I successfully removed the thread and installed a new faucet. I turned on the water and quickly showered. As I locked the front door, headed out to the hospital, I could hear the phone ringing so I turned back to answer it. Sadly, it was the hospital informing me, my father had passed. They needed me to identify the body and sign some papers. I had been to the hospital to see my dad several times that week. He knew his time on this Earth was growing short. Knowing it would be his last day alive, I had hoped to be at the hospital early in the morning . The house was without running water and I was delayed with the plumbing repairs. The hospital wouldn't allow me to stay all night. I told my ex-wife that I felt guilty for not being there. My ex-wife accompanied me to the funeral (as I did for her when her father passed) and she said "Can't you see? it wasn't meant for you to be there, you were spared the trauma of having seen his passing." My ex is usually right when it comes to things like that. ...and on that note, I close this blog with some of the lyrics for IN THE LIVING YEARS: "... I wasn't there that morning, when my father passed away, I didn't get tell him, all the things I had to say, but I think I caught his spirit, later that same year, I'm sure I heard his echo in my baby's newborn tears, I just wish I could have told him, in the living years..." Video: youtube.com/watch?v=uGDA0Hecw1k |
