The date was sunday 11/1/1987.It was a sunday.My father just checked himself out of the hospital and mother went to pick him up.He told the doctor that he was going to die that day and when he arrived home at 11 o clock..he didnt look good.He went to the bathroom and he put his walking shorts on and sat in his favorite chair.As he sat,he looked at me and said"Vader..I am dying." I knew.I screamed and said"Daddy..you are not dying." Thats when it happened.My father fell forward and died in my arms and I heard the death rattle.Then the weight of his body went to the floor and I knew that he was dead and i knew that I would have to have a life of my own.My father stuck with me all of my life.I got mentally ill in junior high.I was going to the psychologist me and several others.The year was 1962..things were different.If you went for help..there was a smear campaign against just like the republicans have.Noone understood the mode and rage of teenage depression.It was an ill that noone talked about.Everyone whispered.My father told me that late in life that I would have things better.He was so right.Frank came home from Florida because I called him at the college.I told him that daddy was sick and it didnt look good.My brother told his employer and it was time to prepare for the Thanksgiving holiday..but they gave Frank 2 weeks off and told him to come back after the holiday.Frank drove for 25 hours.He did not sleep.But when he saw my father...tears came to his eyes.Noone knows what it is like to lose a father at 40.I was bearly making it..but things were different.My father was one of the greatest persons around.He loved books.He loved music.He had 675 albums.He also loved to sing.He loved Bing Crosby and he loved comedy.He took me to see Jackie Gleason in 1959.I was 12 years old and it was my very first play.All I can say is that Gleason was the Great One and always will be.And much to my concern and to my disgust..no man can or will fill my fathers shoes.The men in seattle are very immature.They are either into sports,working out or playing pool.I awoke at 4 o clock this morning and couldnt go anywhere everything is closed.But the shock of that November day is always with me and always will.I have tried my best.I have tried and I guess that it isnt good enough.I cant be a superperson anymore.I cant.I am only one person.Next year..I turn the magic age..I will be 62 years old and I am going to make the journey back to New York because I havent seen my fathers grave since 2004 and I havent put flowers on it either.I want to see the grave.I want to place the flowers and I will.Because in 2009...I am going to do something..I am going to say goodbye to my father and mother.Just saying that your parents are dead,takes a lot of guts..but to accept it and try to go on living is a task that I am trying to do everyday.Vader and the cats.