Four years ago my father passed away. Even though my father was 80 years old, it happened very suddenly. It was Halloween and some trick or treaters decided to deposit some of the chocolate they had collected on the ground near my parent’s home and my father became worried that his dog might eat some of the chocolate and die. Instead, something far more ominous happened, it was my father who would perish from that fateful choice. My father, 80 years old and not the least bit agile, decided he was just the person to pick up the candy off of his lawn.
At the time my parents lived 
on a large sloping hill that was challenging to navigate even for someone 40 years younger than my father, but he decided he was up to the task. As he was picking up the candy, he lost his balance and he began tumbling down the hill and in a maneuver that would be impossible to recreate, he hit his head on the one 2 X 2 piece of concrete that rested at the bottom of the hill. One care flight and a surgery later and my father was gone six days after his fall.
Getting the call that one of your parents is about to pass away is one of the most surreal moments anyone could go through. Even though my father was 80 years old, it was still a shock to get this call. One moment my father was here, and the next I was flying back to Iowa to determine how long we would keep him on life support. The flight home was a blur and even the time at the hospital is only a vague memory. I remember the doctor telling us that there was 0% chance my father would recover. Even the most optimistic among us saw no wiggle room in this diagnosis.
I was always very close to my father and we had lengthy talks about what to do if my parents were ever in the situation that my father found himself at that moment. He was crystal clear: do NOT keep me alive. I knew my mother could never say the words that would facilitate the end of my father’s life, so I gathered everyone together and as a family we made the decision for my mother; we would take my father off of life support. Because of my long talks with my father and his explicit wishes, I was completely at peace with the decision. I knew he had reached the end of his life, and it was time for him to move on to an elevated state of being.
The family gathered around my father as the hospital staff prepared to unplug him from the machines that were keeping him alive. I asked the doctor how long this would be and his response was vague.
“It could be twenty minutes or it could be several hours,” he said, and then after surveying our horrified faces he added, “but most likely 20 minutes.”
My father had his entire family surrounding him; his six children and my siblings were all there along with a few of their spouses, multiple grandchildren and his wife of 53 years huddled around his bedside. In an macabre twist of fate, my brother-in-law was in a hospital bed two doors away from my father battling cancer who would die 5 short days after my father. It was a strange time indeed. We would lose two family members in less than a week.
After the hospital staff removed the tubes from my father, his breathing became very shallow quite quickly and I think we all knew it wouldn’t be long before my father passed. I remember holding on to my mother as she braced herself against me while I held my father’s hand until the end. When my father finally took what appeared to be his last breath I said very solemnly to the group assembled, “Well, he’s gone.” In a instant, the moment sank in for me that I would never again speak with him. There was a moment of deep sadness but then, the sadness was broken as my father, ever the perfect straight man and comic foil, proceeded to take a huge deep breath (known as the last gasp) and my comedy instincts kicked in. I said, “He’s back, everyone. Just like Jesus!”
Laughter filled the room. The tension of the moment was completely erased. The laughter was so loud that the nursing staff, who had left the room to give us privacy, raced into the room wondering what had just happened. Smiles were everywhere and as laughter filled his ears for the last time, my father passed away peacefully. Every single person he loved the most stood by him while laughter and joy filled the room. I know my father couldn’t have hoped for a more beautiful death.
It’s a surreal moment to lose a parent. Suddenly, they are gone and each time I would reach for the phone to call my dad to catch up about some small thing going on in my life, I would have to remind myself that he was gone and I would put the phone down. I didn’t experience the sadness that some people have told me they experienced after their parents died for two reasons: 1) I had already told my father how much he meant to me in nearly every phone call we ever had. 2). I knew my father hadn’t really died, he had simply transformed into his most beautiful and divine spiritual self.
Time passed and life moved on because no matter the impact a person makes on another’s life, once they are gone we all must get back to living. Two months after my father’s passing, I sat down to begin the novel that I would dedicate to my father. I wrote the novel in about a year and then I placed it in a drawer for nearly three years before I finally retrieved it. For some reason, whether it be fear of rejection or just a general lack of faith, I allowed the novel to lie dormant with little real intention to ever release it.
That is, until lately. I had moved to a new place in my life. I finished my second book, White Tantric Yoga: 40 Day to Divinity and through the beautiful power of Kundalini Yoga I came to a divine place of peace and fulfillment in my life. I met a beautiful woman who enriched my life (I have always known my father brought her to me from his new elevated state of consciousness) and I began to live more fearlessly. My fear around the “failure” of my novel had dissipated and had been replaced by a new confidence that I was required to release this book.
I spent this last month proofing the manuscript and preparing the book for release. December 7 my father would celebrate his 85 birthday. It seems like he was here just a few days ago. To honor his memory I feel the most fitting celebration would be to release the book that he inspired.
And with this, I announce the release of Blue Pearl on December 25, 2018, for Christmas symbolizes new beginnings. I do this in loving memory of my father. He will always live on through this book because it was he that asked me, when I was 16 years old, to write and write well. This one is for you, dad. I hope it makes you proud. Rest in peace, Beautiful Light, I will see you on the other side.
