Category Archives: Memoriam

Dad Gone 34 Years

Thanks to Big Tobacco, today marks THIRTY-FOUR years since my dad has been gone because of his smoking. He was only 50 years old when he died (the same age as his mom from her smoking), so he could very reasonably be alive today at 84.

This is one of my favorite pictures of him with me. He knew how much I hated his smoking and he thought it was funny when I would draw “Cancer Cures Smoking” signs and tape them to his nightstand. One year for MY birthday, he bought a smoking cessation kit for himself, because he knew how much I wanted him to stop, and this was all before his quintuple bypass at age 48.

Even that didn’t stop him from resuming smoking a month later and within two years an aortic aneurysm caused him to hemorrhage to death in rush-hour traffic on Highway 92 here in the Bay Area. He never regained consciousness and it turned my entire family’s lives upside down, including my immigrant mother who was somewhat lost without him. I had no choice but to step up and protect her and her household with my two younger siblings, so I grew up very fast knowing at that moment what I wanted to concentrate on with my activism when I went to law school (I was still in college on the other side of the country).

In Memoriam Michael Stanley

This afternoon I attended the memorial for my friend Michael Stanley. I didn’t know him for that many years and we weren’t super close, but I am so glad to have met him numerous times and having him as a dog-loving neighbor. He was a chaplain in the Coast Guard and I saw that he was in the Coast Guard (so dapper in his uniform pictures!) for years in common with my dad, who was also stationed here in the Bay Area, so their paths very likely crossed.

I know Molly and Coco, whom I’ve had the pleasure of dogsitting several times, are missing Michael. I’m sure Miguel is giving them extra hugs.

Oh and FUCK CANCER!

Incredibly, Shea’s aunt had a memorial service the same day, so by the time Shea was arriving from that memorial, Michael’s was ending.

One of the few items that survived my fire in January was my dad’s Coast Guard tie clip so I was very glad to be able to find that and wear it in this veteran’s honor. Is that even legal? I know my dad was a stickler about such things. He wouldn’t even allow us to write with the pens he “accidentally” brought home that said “Property of U.S. Government.” I later realized that’s because he was hypersensitive after he found out that his Navy SEAL brother had been known for stealing military equipment and selling it after he did two tours in Vietnam.

Eight Years Without Mom

Today marks eight years since my best friend and mom died. I was a big-time momma’s boy. For so many years (thanks to technology), I was in touch with her all day long. We always kept some chat window open and messaged each other about various things no matter where we were in the world. What’s unbelievable is that her house was destroyed by a fire a few months before she died of fucking ovarian cancer. She, my brother and nephew came to live with me immediately after their fire, and then she got the Stage IV diagnosis just a few weeks later. She did not even live long enough for her house to be renovated and died when she was only 73. That’s part of the reason when I had an opportunity to work for City of Hope (which just bought Cancer Treatment Centers of America), I jumped at the chance. As if losing five of my dogs wasn’t enough, it was excruciating that the most sentimental pieces of her furniture that had been professionally cleaned in 2016, were incinerated in MY house fire in January. I can only imagine what she would think of the craziness that has ensued, including one of her sister’s family-destroying exploitation of her estate, effectively disinheriting my siblings and me. The entire family in Italy (which is very large as my mother was the first of nine siblings) has been affected by the internal family feud, which is STILL in litigation. Thankfully my siblings and I have been able to prosper despite the lack of an inheritance of our parents’ sweat equity, but my Nonna (who survived my mother) never spoke to that traitor daughter of hers — or her progeny — ever again. I know Mom would have been proud of my purchasing a home and improving my health (she was always concerned about my weight, sometimes bluntly), but devastated at the deaths and loss of family memories just a few years later. Years after she died she is still an inspiration that encourages me to make her proud.

Nikki Hospice and Hayden Five in the News

Front page Vallejo Times Herald article today mentioned the five souls I lost in the fire and the pet grieving events I was already actively trying to facilitate with Kathryn D. Marocchino and Carlene Coury. Hopefully this will trigger more donations in their memory in the link listed at the bottom of the article. I do like knowing that their memory will help other cats and dogs find homes and have better lives.

The Loss of Five Pets at Once

Apparently I’m not the only one in the world to be out of the home and lose FIVE animals to a fire, as unfathomable as the thought is to have lived through. I’ve started reading this book recommended by pet grieving expert Kathryn of the Nikki Hospice Foundation who happens to be a lovely neighbor I adore and who even speaks Italian with me. Some of you know that I was working with Carlene and Kathryn and others about the periodic pet grieving gatherings that we could facilitate, particularly in association with the Humane Society of the North Bay, but I never dreamed I would soon be the “poster child” for such things.

Can beauty come out of ashes?

That’s a line from a beautiful Celine Dion song.

I got a call from the veterinarian’s office downtown. I was told in the chaos of the fire that they would cremate all five dogs that were killed in the fire individually for free, which is very touching. I think one of my neighbors arranged that for me. The remains of the last of the five are expected at their office tomorrow, so I’ll have to pick them all up. I will make sure someone drives me because I’m not sure how I’m going to handle it.