Brian Austin
En-Route
On the whimsical and completely unsubstantiated belief that the Internet has reached every corner of our human consciousness, I hope that someday, he can see this via Google or something...
Dear Dad,
I knew in my gut that something was wrong when I didn't see you log into instant messaging yesterday morning. You're such a creature of habit, you know. Get up, get dressed, go outside for two or three cigarettes and cups of coffee, play ball with the dog, and hit the computer's power switch on the way to your morning shower. You probably didn't realize that I intentionally set up the instant messaging to start and login to make sure you were up and functioning okay since you usually woke up after we left for work.
When you didn't answer the phone calls, my heart started beating faster. Our wonderful neighbor checked the house. Your car was home...but the dog was in the crate, where she would be after locked her up the night before. This was early afternoon by the time he got there. Way too late for her to be there. I already knew the situation, since nothing short of death would keep you from taking care of your buddy.
The neighbor broke into the house like I asked him to. You didn't answer the yelling...and then he opened your bedroom door. It looks like you had just gotten up when it happened. The ME is calling it a massive heart attack as a preliminary guess, based on their observations. Based on your position, the odds are you were unconscious before you hit the floor.
I'm so sorry I wasn't there. We went to California for work, as we do every month. You were taking care of everything for us, just like you always did. You were so dependable that way. You seemed to be fine when we spoke on the phone the day before...but that's how this stuff happens, I guess.
Knowing you, I suspect your last thoughts, if you even had the chance, were how to take care of the dog and your bird, Bud. The dog is fine, although she gave the neighbor a scare after getting rather upset that he was the one opening the crate and not you. She knows something isn't right and keeps visiting me to get some attention...although I'm not sure who's doing the consoling here. Bud isn't doing so well, though. I'm going into your room and talking to him for a few minutes every once in a while. I turned on the radio, just like you did, and he seemed to perk up a little. He didn't eat at all yesterday or today, it looks like. Knowing how bonded he was to you, I'm not sure what to do there. I've e-mailed a few people for some help there.
I'm glad you came to live with me for the last few months. I had a lot of fun, learning more about you and sharing some great times. I'm glad we got to go flying, especially to Sedona. And the roadtrips were a lot of fun, trading the camera back and forth. I know my shop would still be unfinished if you hadn't motivated me to work on it. The cabinets went up a lot faster with you there. Not sure how I'm going to do that kitchen now, like we were planning.
I'm sorry that this had to happen, just now when things seemed to finally be going your way. Retirement wasn't voluntary, I know, but you were starting to realize how much life was out there for you to enjoy. The neighbors have all been over, saying great things about you as well. Despite your meager possessions and little money, you proved that it's not about what you have on the outside so much as what you have on the inside.
You were...and always are...loved, Dad.
Love,
Your proud and grateful son...Brian
Dear Dad,
I knew in my gut that something was wrong when I didn't see you log into instant messaging yesterday morning. You're such a creature of habit, you know. Get up, get dressed, go outside for two or three cigarettes and cups of coffee, play ball with the dog, and hit the computer's power switch on the way to your morning shower. You probably didn't realize that I intentionally set up the instant messaging to start and login to make sure you were up and functioning okay since you usually woke up after we left for work.
When you didn't answer the phone calls, my heart started beating faster. Our wonderful neighbor checked the house. Your car was home...but the dog was in the crate, where she would be after locked her up the night before. This was early afternoon by the time he got there. Way too late for her to be there. I already knew the situation, since nothing short of death would keep you from taking care of your buddy.
The neighbor broke into the house like I asked him to. You didn't answer the yelling...and then he opened your bedroom door. It looks like you had just gotten up when it happened. The ME is calling it a massive heart attack as a preliminary guess, based on their observations. Based on your position, the odds are you were unconscious before you hit the floor.
I'm so sorry I wasn't there. We went to California for work, as we do every month. You were taking care of everything for us, just like you always did. You were so dependable that way. You seemed to be fine when we spoke on the phone the day before...but that's how this stuff happens, I guess.
Knowing you, I suspect your last thoughts, if you even had the chance, were how to take care of the dog and your bird, Bud. The dog is fine, although she gave the neighbor a scare after getting rather upset that he was the one opening the crate and not you. She knows something isn't right and keeps visiting me to get some attention...although I'm not sure who's doing the consoling here. Bud isn't doing so well, though. I'm going into your room and talking to him for a few minutes every once in a while. I turned on the radio, just like you did, and he seemed to perk up a little. He didn't eat at all yesterday or today, it looks like. Knowing how bonded he was to you, I'm not sure what to do there. I've e-mailed a few people for some help there.
I'm glad you came to live with me for the last few months. I had a lot of fun, learning more about you and sharing some great times. I'm glad we got to go flying, especially to Sedona. And the roadtrips were a lot of fun, trading the camera back and forth. I know my shop would still be unfinished if you hadn't motivated me to work on it. The cabinets went up a lot faster with you there. Not sure how I'm going to do that kitchen now, like we were planning.
I'm sorry that this had to happen, just now when things seemed to finally be going your way. Retirement wasn't voluntary, I know, but you were starting to realize how much life was out there for you to enjoy. The neighbors have all been over, saying great things about you as well. Despite your meager possessions and little money, you proved that it's not about what you have on the outside so much as what you have on the inside.
You were...and always are...loved, Dad.
Love,
Your proud and grateful son...Brian
