Fly by Night described him perfectly. Absent for the years in which I needed him the most. Sure, he sent cards & generic birthday gifts. I even got occasional phone calls from exotic locations - But for the most part these interactions were out of obligation, not love. Dad moved around a ton. He had to, he was a confidence man. A con artist.

The day before my 30th birthday I stood outside Sunnybrook chain smoking. Once inside fear and sadness quickly overtook me. My legs trembled as I made my way to the east-wing of the 2nd floor. Oncology.

Barely the husk of a man. Tubes. Wires. Oxygen mask. Translucent skin. For what it’s worth, he seemed peaceful. I sat at his bedside. His eyes fluttered open. Joy. He took my hand. His sandpaper palms were rough but comforting. He pulled me close. Shifting his mask to the side.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes pleaded. I nodded. He swallowed hard and spoke again.

“If you must lie, be brief.” Suddenly his heart rate soared and he coded. He was gone. Just like that.

Thank you for coming today. Even if you’re only here to make sure he’s actually dead.