Dead Robot The space between gay and straight, stupid and smart.

My Eulogy

My father had three very distinct sections to his life.

The first part of his life he lived for his parents. I've heard stories of terrific fights between he and his father. Yet my dad carried his father's tenets of career and family to heart. He dutifully got a career, got a wife, had kids. He stayed in this part of his life for half of it. When the kids grew up, he moved into the next part of his life.

When I was 16 my father came out of the closet.

He then lived his life for himself. His entrance into the gay community was like a re-birth for him. He joined Toronto Area Gays Coming Out Support Group, one of the few support groups at the time and forged long lasting friendships through them. My father, the serious man who would dole out parental decisions with curt Yes, Nos or "Wait… what did your Mother tell you?" suddenly became a funny man.

Dad and I moved to Brantford during my last year in High school. We lived in a large mansion that had 6 rental units in it and one Halloween the upstairs neighbours decided to hold a costume party. We talked a bit about what we were going to wear but nothing came of it, I though we were just going to crash it in street clothes. The night of the party, Dad came home with two cheap plastic jumpsuit superhero costumes with thin plastic masks. The ones you'd get at WalMart. I was Captain America. He was Wonder Woman.

Thing is, he bought kid sized jumpsuits. They were impossibly small. We managed to slip into them, the cuffs came up to our knees and elbows. They were tight.

We set out for the party and we hit the stairs going up to the apartment. Our first step we split the side seam from thigh to armpit. By the time we got to the top, we were wearing strips of plastic off our shoulders. Thankfully we had underwear on underneath.

In the 90s dad had his first encounter with his pancreas, which literally left him in pain every time he got near alcohol. His surgery was a marker into the third part of his life:

After this he lived his life for other people.

Da was already active in Prime Timers, as was a weekly volunteer with ACT. I remember hauling h'ors dourves with him in the rain at one Fashion Cares. When his pancreas got in the way he was forced to vacate his seat on the World Board of Prime Timers when his health started to fail. He scaled back his availability to two acts of volunteerism: MCCT and the Gardiner Ceramics Museum. Both groups became central to his life and enabled him to come into contact with such amazing people.

But that didn't mean he wasn't available for advice. Friends, family and co-workers would come to him and find him a wealth of experience and knowledge. Around this time he developed a motto:

I've told you what to do, now do what you like.

It was my father's mantra in the later years of his life.

Now. I'm going to tell you what to do…

If you love someone tell them right now that you do.

Now. Do what you like.

One Bad, One Good

It's just 8 hours after my father's death, close to 24 hours before the whole thing started. I've had maybe 1 hour of sleep, stolen on a couch in the ICU waiting room around 4am. I'm headed towards Da's apartment to meet up with my two other brothers and sister to start the whole process of sorting, finding and ...processing.

My phone rings as I'm about to turn the corner of the street where the apartment is.

"Hi." Pause. "Is this... Ted?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"It's Pamela, I'm the property manager from... your father's..."

"Building?" I offer.

"Yes. I. You've heard... I mean."

"Yes. My father passed away this morning."

The flood gates are open and the words rush out: "Oh I am very sorry about this. We know Edward was a new tenant but he seemed like such a lovely man. There are a couple questions I have regarding the people going into the unit."

"I'm right outside, can we continue this conversation in person?"

"Of course!" We hang up and I enter the management office. Despite a shower, fresh clothes and a stolen 20 minute nap, I still look like a car hit me. She's a bit taken aback.

"Yours was the emergency contact info we have on file. We're concerned that there are a lot of people entering the unit."

"We're a large family," I offer, trying to keep it light.

"Well we'll need a signed letter from the Executors saying they'll be entering the unit."

"Of course. I'll write that up and get all the Executors to sign it. I'll bring it down for you shortly."

"And a list of people who may be using the unit... for the security desk," She adds quickly.

"Certainly, I can go upstairs and confirm with the rest of the family as to who will be around this weekend during the funeral proceedings."

"And you'll have to vacate in 30 days."

"Oh...kay..." I stammer. I offer that my other brother will be taking care of the apartment details and he will come down and discuss the whole situation with her soon.

The wave of anger doesn't hit me until I'm at the elevator. My father, not even 12 hours gone, is evicted corpus delecti.

We decide that she can take an email, not a signed letter, and I fire one off to her after she's gone home for the day. We'll deal with her after the funeral. Fuck you heartless cow.

__________________

My father volunteered at The Gardiner Ceramics Museum. Quite a bit. Like, on average 3 hours a day - that's a lot for a 78 year old man. He spoke highly of working there: loving the colours and shapes of the contemporary artists and the company of his co-workers too. He would bring home a bowl a day, it seems. Every dinner invitation to his apartment was a new bowl discovery, filled with his nutmeg infused sweet potatoes.

While we're making preparations for the viewing, my brother had the great idea that since Da was going to be cremated, we should ask his boss if there was a vessel we could use for his ashes. I joked that we're looking for something from the Ming Dynasty. Nothing too ostentatious.

We make contact with Da's old boss, she puts us in touch with the manager of the gift shop who tells us to stop by to talk to her.

We show up at the store like a posse: my two brothers, one sister-n-law, my sister and SharkBoy and myself walk into the small gift shop. We're greeted warmly by all the staff and they begin to say how much they loved my father. It's concluded with a broad sweep of the manager's arm across the store. Take a look around. SharkBoy and Michele see a red Raku vase with lid, a vase made with horse hairs seared into the glaze during the pot's time in the kiln. It's utterly something Da would have bought for himself yet probably would have balked at the price.  I am sure it's well over $1000 due to the location within the store. Higher up = higher price. The shelf it was on was nearly touching the ceiling. The volunteer takes it down for us to look at and after quick deliberation, we all decide that this is the perfect vase for Da. My brother reaches for his wallet. The volunteer says no charge.

SharkBoy utters a hiccup gasp. "Oh ...god," he says and leaves the shop fast.

It's like seeing someone puke. He's crying so I start crying. I leave the store less quietly, trailing sobs like water balloons. Outside we grab onto each other.

"He. Would. Have. Loved. It." SharkBoy says between gasps.

"I. Know! It's. Beautiful!" I reply in kind.

"I can't believe they're giving it to us!"

Michele comes out and gives us some tissues. After capping the well, I return to the store, the stoic facemask back on. As I enter, all eyes to me.

I stop. I pause. I smile like nothing happened. With force:

"Thank you!"

Thankfully everyone laughs.

Edward Healey – The Gathering

Dad's visitation and "Gathering" info:

The visitation is on Sunday Aug 15th, 2 pm at Humphrey Funeral Home at 1403 Bayview Ave.

Dad also wanted a non-formal "service" (he hand wrote "a Gathering!" in his will) which will take place at The Metropolitan Community Church of Toronto, 115 Simpson Ave, on Monday Aug 16, 2 to 5pm. He had rejected religion when he came out but still loved the church and the social that went with it. Eventually religion found it's way back into his life and he was enriched by it. Its the same room we use to practice flag twirling with ROTC years back... weird.

Edward Healey

Edward Healey: 1932 - 2010

"There. I've told you what to do. Now do what you like."

Love you and miss you.

The Best Sister In Law Evar!!!

Last weekend, sis-in-law Syl had her 50th birthday and surprised me with a gift of my own: money towards my own iPad. She said it was for all the work I did on her note card/photography site.

Without a word of a lie, she knocked my socks off. I had no real schedule for getting one, I just knew I was going to get one. Someday. She had just upped the inevitable.

For her birthday she looked amazing - a hot red Cuban themed dress and her hair was perfect.

Right Now I'm sitting on my bed typing into my WordPress app making this post, thinking of her and what a special person she is.

Hospitality

Dad took this from his bed in emergency: