A Day Of Thanks In The Worst Of Years

I knew this Thanksgiving would be a tough one. This has been, without question, the worst year of my life. It started with the death of my Father in March. Then, at my most vulnerable, I was hit at a monthly basis with events so traumatic and stressful I honestly thought I might not make it through them. That I would snap, go insane and be institutionalized. At the very least I thought I would start drinking again. But somehow I made it through it all.
I sat at my computer and tried to think about what I have to be thankful about this year. I thought of my family and friends. I thought of my partner. I thought that I have eyes that can see, and legs that can walk. I thought of a lot of things. But nothing could lift me out of my state of self pity. My Father is gone, my Mother is in constant pain, and we are both in the worst financial situation of our lives. I can go on and on. But trust me; everybody I love, including myself, could be in a much, much better place.

Then for the third time I heard this coming out of the bedroom, “Mike, come to bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow”. And for the third time I answered, “In a minute. I have to finish this”. A half hour past and then I heard, “Michael, if you don’t get in this bed right now I’m going to get up and carry you into it!”

It hit me in an instant. A memory I have never forgotten and never will. I don’t know why it didn’t hit me earlier: the fact that one single memory can get you through the toughest parts of your life. I sincerely hope that everyone has a memory like that. Here is mine.

When I was a child I would always fall asleep on the floor watching T.V. On this particular night the movie Gypsy was on. I remember a debate between my parents to whether or not I was old enough to watch it. These debates were always held in the kitchen. I don’t now why. Eventually these debates became so loud you could hear it down the block. My Father won this debate with this:” This women was not just a stripper, she was an artist and a survivor. There is a great message in this movie. To be proud of yourself no matter what the world thinks. And you know Michael needs to hear and see that message.” Then there was a slight pause followed by, “And Michael will not grow up to be a stripper. He doesn’t have the legs for it”.
Of course I had no idea what he was talking about at the time. Still I remembered every word. I remember every word he has ever said.


I don’t remember exactly when I fell asleep, but I did see the whole movie. When I woke up I found myself in my Fathers arms being carried up the stairs. I didn’t open my eyes. He never knew I was awake. Cuddled up so gently in my Father’s strong arms, I felt so completely safe, so unconditionally loved, so full of love, that I found myself wishing that the flight of stairs were a hundred floors up. Suddenly I was not being carried by a mere man; I was being lifted by God into the gates of heaven. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful feeling I have ever felt. I’ve been searching for someone to make me feel that way my entire life. I doubt I’ll find it. Only one man is capable of producing such profound effect. And that man is gone. At least for now.

Shortly before he died, I sat on his bed and told him this. That I was awake and every since that night I continued to pretend I was asleep. And what those trips up those stairs meant to me. He was pretty bad at this point. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t quite sure he could understand what I was saying or that I would understand what he said if he managed to say something at all. But a light flashed in his eyes halfway through it. When I was finished he lifted his head toward me as best he could and said in a crystal clear voice,” I knew Mike. I know my son. Thanks kiddo”. And then he smiled and fell asleep.

That was the last time I saw him alive. While he was sleeping. He was lifted up to heaven while he was asleep, just as he lifted me to heaven while he was carrying me to sleep.

So now I’m asking myself what I can possible be grateful for this year once again. The answer came to me quickly this time: The very life my Father breathed into me and the love he gave me to help get through it. I promise you Dad, I will never feel sorry for myself again.

This song sums up perfectly the way my Father makes me feel. Beautiful, both inside and out. It was written and performed by another great man. The love for his son fills yours soul with a warmth so strong that it erases everything else. He is another man that I miss every single day. My Father played the guitar. I’m certain that at this very moment, my Father and John are strumming their hearts out.And the entire universe is singing along.