Letter from my son

I feel horrible about the way David died. In his wheelchair, slumped over, probably trying to pick up his phone and couldn't pull himself up, his breath running out on him.


Why couldn't he have died somewhere else? In his bed, on the floor... Even on the toilet. He'd been in that chair for so many years, and others like it for over 50 years, reminding him of his inability to use his legs. That fucking chair.

Those were my first thoughts about Da that i had when my mom called me to tell me he died. Now my mother is asking me to say something at his memorial that i can't be there for.

What can i say?

I loved him so much. i LOVE him still. I love him to the point that i gave my daughter his last name instead of my own so that his name would carry on because he never had any children of his own.

I am glad he died in Hawaii... in a warm place, in the place he wanted to die. With my mom.

He loved you so much you know. When i lived with you two, it was great to see how much you were loved.

I remember all the evenings Da and i would go out to the barbeque grills at the Grove and cook. Those were the times where i wouldn't have to hear about cars and gearhead stuff. We would just talk about you, or Maya, or Rachel and U'i or whatever else was important. Those were the times where he and i really connected. Talking about the females in our lives... and how much we loved them.

I know this is hard on you Ma, i am crying as i write it, but you have been an amazing person concerning your life choices and your dedication to all those disabled people you have helped to have a better life. You even married one. Da loved you immensely and you could always see it in his face and hear it in his voice. And i love you as well... i couldn't ask for a better mother.