April 5
My dad died on April 5, 1990 when I was 16 years old. He died of a massive heart attack in the middle of the night. This year, as I recover from quadruple bypass open heart surgery, I am missing him terribly, questioning if there was something he could have done more to prevent his death, and I am particularly reflective about mortality and fatherhood.
My dad was pretty great. I know he tried his best. He adopted me when I was very young, but I had essentially lived with him since I was born. My biological parents were young and not great, so Ray raised me. My mom Joanne died soon after they adopted me so for awhile it was just me and my dad. He worked, a lot, as a journeyman press operator for US Playing Card so I was the textbook definition of a “latchkey kid”. Yes, I wore my house key around my neck, until I got my first pair of Kangaroos of course. I made my own breakfast, and walked a mile to school and back home. Being a parent and working in a parenting center has taught me a lot about parenting. I know it’s the most important and toughest job you ever do. There’s no manual. Most parents are just feeling around in the dark, falling back on how they were parented, and stumbling as often as they have a “parenting win”. My dad tried his best and I loved him for it. I’ve now lived so much more of my life without my dad than with him. My memories are like faded photographs. The strongest being the last time I saw him. Fortunately, the last thing we said to each other was “I love you”.
I am lucky to have discovered my heart issues and had them fixed before I unintentionally abandoned my kids like my father did. But today as I miss ad grieve my dad, I am overcome with sadness about what my kids could have gone through and what they will go through when I do pass. I worry about how they’ll cope and grieve. I worry that it will hold them back. For now, all I can do is let them know I love them every day and hope thier memories of me are good ones.
About 4 years after my dad passed, Kurt Cobain died. It his me like a ton of bricks. I was still mourning my dad and quite frankly was kind of spiraling in my life. I was in college, in a tough relationship, out on my own and was feeling a bit rudderless. My generation was different than previous ones. Pop culture was our religion. We connected to movies, music, television, books, and celebrities differently and more deeply than our parents and certainly our grandparents. Artists spoke to us though their words and pictures. The “cult of personality” inextricably tied us to the artists we adored. We found in these people a connection, an outlet, a resonance. And for many in my generation, Kurt Cobain was our voice. A guttural scream through the chaos. He was an artist, a father, and just one of us-a product of the latchkey decade, a victim of the Reagan years, a conflicted and complex soul trying to navigate a world that we didn’t understand.
I heard the news in my apartment on MTV News. MTV was where Gen X got their news, learned the importance of voting, and became activists. I went through all the stages of grief in seconds, nearly collapsing on the spot. Kurt was a father. That meant nothing to me at the time. There was a famous interview where he fed and dotes over Francis Bean while talking about all things Kurt, Nirvana and the world. Watching they interview now, watching him stumble like any new father, carefully cradling FB he was like any dad. Exploding with love for her, while not having a clue what to do.
Kurt’s demons eventually consumed him and he took his own life, abandoning Francis and altering the trajectory of art and the world. Now Cobain is remembered as important, yet a cautionary tale, a Nirvana t-shirt now means very little when worn by a Gen Zer who wasn’t there when Nirvana changed the world but decided the shirt looked great in an Instagram story. For me Kurt is still the most important artist in my life and like me, a dad who struggles with his demons and doesn’t know what the hell I am doing.
When my heart surgery happened I promised to be better an do better. And I am goin to try to do just that. To honor two man I love, miss, and grieve today and every day.