While on the way to go camping, I received a text that no one likes to get. Words like "he had a stroke" and "put in a stint but he never recovered" and lastly, "They give him 48 hours." My heart broke into a million pieces. They are 16oo miles away, and of course, all I want to do is be there, but I can't.
Naomi told me he went peacefully. No pain. No fighting. Just....gone. I thought back to my mother and father and my husband's parents when they passed and found a very existential answer to it all. Ready for it??? Here it is:
You die the way you lived in perfect measure
Let me explain....
My mother had quite a few problems, the least of which, in hindsight, being Bipolar Disorder. Her anger and hatred of the life my father forced her to lead led her to abuse me mentally, verbally and physically for years. She suffered and deteriorated slowly, dying alone with a person of pure evil.
My father, in his last weeks, fought invisible demons, lashed out at ghosts, screamed and cried. I know this because the shitster happily videotaped each and every episode for my viewing enjoyment. I loved him...he was my father, but he was not a good man at all. He was a drunk, cruel, nasty, a drug addict, womanizer, adulterer, he never missed an opportunity to tell me I was a disappointment and that he hated me, the list goes on.
My husbands' mother died the hateful, spiteful woman that she lived as. She loved letting me know how I destroyed her family by taking away her son. His father was, deep deep down inside, a good man who adored his granddaughters, but the demon of cocaine had to strong a hold on him. He died surrounded by drug dealers (they are the ones who found him after kicking in the door to get their money), and died from heart failure caused by years of substance abuse.
John, or Poppy as a lot of us called him, was a wonderful man, kind of spirit, loving, supportive, incredibly talented and an all around awesome dude. Was he perfect? Pfft, no! He could be petty and poopy and once in a while a complete weenie, but he would also go out and buy Wiley bundles of flowers because he knew she would love them, even buying me some one Mother's Day when I was visiting. When the time came, John Bibona closed his eyes, surrounded by family and loved ones and simply...went...home.
I am no stranger to death, sad to say. And now, seeing this, I have come to my 'ah ha' moment when it comes to dying. You live a nasty, cruel, mean life, you die a nasty, cruel, mean death. You live loving, laughing, enjoying, occasionally being a weiner and giving from your heart, you pass away wrapped in the arms of love.
I have no idea if my parents went to heaven. That is a hard hard thing to admit. Of course I want to think they did, but, eh, who knows. I know, for a fact, that Poppy is up there right now, cracking God and the angels up with the Cow Story.
I love you Poppy. I was blessed to have known you these last 22 years. You made me laugh, made me smile, made me cringe, taught me so much and gave me opportunities to share my talent along side you. You will be so very very missed. Here's to stealing the show.
Peace, Love and (banna huera loves you always) Zombies \IiiI