If you are thinking this piece is going going to be lighthearted and funny and also very sad and painful, then you got yourself a bingo my friend.

My dad was my biggest fan. He really should of have been my agent. The first time I visited him at the nursing home, he asked if he should round up the nurses. Thinking there was something wrong, I inquired why? He looked at me and said, “You know, so you can teach them. About the gays.” I laughed, “Pop, I’m here to see you. They can hire me if they need me.” “Okay Bear, Okay.”

Our visit was shortly after Toronto Pride. He told me that him and the other residents were watching the news and saw a video shot of the parade in Toronto. He saw the rainbows and it caught his attention. He sat up and said, “My son is probably walking in that parade.” The other grandmothers and grandfathers gathered closer to the television. One of them asked, “Which one is he Ted.” He took a short moment and said, “There he is! Walking beside the Prime Minister of Canada.” The grandmothers and grandfathers looked closer at the television. “Really!? Which one?!” “He’s right there! In the purple dress!” He said proudly. “Oh” my father’s peered said. And all sat back down.

On another visit I went to see him and he had a bruise on his forehead. “What the heck happened?” I said as he sat on his bed smiling saying, “Hey Bear!” “Dad, what happened to your face.” His smile disappeared and he looked at me sheepishly. I caught him in something. “It was an accident” he said. “Okay, what happened though dad?” I replied. He took a breath and said, “I was outside having my morning smoke and it was a bit raining outside. I looked over and I saw a worm.” “A worm?” I asked to make sure I heard him well. “Yes. A worm. I tried to pick it up and I fell forward.” Perplexed I responded, “Okay, but why were you trying to pick up the worm dad?” He kept my eye contact but his head dead and responded with, “I was going to try and scare the nurses.” My mouth drops open, tilt my head back, roll my eyes slightly and begin to laugh. He laughs too. We agreed that he did probably scare the nurses after they found him laid on the ground with his new worm friend.

“Have I been a good dad?” He’d always ask me this. Always needing affirmation from his son that he was good provider. “Yes dad. You are the best dad.” He’d smile and say, “Okay Bear. Okay.”  

I was in Ottawa when I got the call to come home and that dad was going on palliative care. I asked my mother if she can have the doctor call me. I thanked the doctor. And then asked to have the nurse practitioner to call me. They come in threes and she said that I should get home as soon as I could. I was home for two or three days, and stayed mostly at the nursing home. Before he was in Serpent River First Nation at a nursing home there, waiting for something to open up in Sault Ste. Marie. I was happy that he was closer to home at least.

The night before he passed away, he laid on his bed without a shirt. Being an inappropriate person who believes that they are funny, I noticed how hairless my dad’s chest was. I have a small patch of hair on my chest, but he only had a few stray hairs here and there. I looked over at my mom and aunties and said, “I must get my hairy chest from your side of the family.” We laughed.

They told us he was gone. We sat there and cried and tried to catch our breath. After 20-30 minutes, I thought of how much I was going to miss his smile. I began to giggle. Again. Horrible person. My mother looked over and said, “What?” “Mom can I say something that’s not that appropriate?” I asked her. “Yeah, I guess” she said reluctantly. “I’m really going to miss his smile. Do you think I can take his teeth? Maybe I can make a necklace or something in his memory.” She laughed and said, “Ha! Jeez you’re horrible.!” I looked at her and said, “Mom, I’d be a very sad person if I didn’t have humor.”

He only listened to ABBA music. When planning his celebration of life, I asked my family, “So, besides ABBA, what other music did he listen to.” Everyone in the room drew a blank. We were staring down the barrel of 4-5 hours of non-stop ABBA music. My older sister piped up and mentioned, “I can only listen to Fernando and Chiquita three to four times max.” I asked if she wanted to do the playlist. She said yes. Fernando and Chiquita was each played a couple of times respectively.

He was a character and you should have met him.