Transcript

Death And Dying · Wanzology

Death And Dying What you going to do about it? Hey, hey, hey. What you going to do about it? Hi. Welcome back to another episode of WS Ology. I am your host, the Wands, and man, I just had a, a very interesting weekend and. Actually, there was one part of it that was interesting and I thought I would talk about it a little bit. It is one of those things that nobody really prepares us for, we're all gonna have to deal with, but nobody really prepares us for. And even if you get prepared for it, you're not ready for it ever. I was, uh, I was in Los Angeles for a friend's wake. This is a friend that I've known for 35, 40 years. Easy. He passed away the complications with his kidneys. When they say brother from another mother, he was one of those guys for me. He left behind an ex-wife, a brother, a sister, a niece, a nephew, and two sons that graduated high school in 2024. But anyway, this guy for me was very, very cool. Um, he was very, very upbeat all the time. The wake was held in his backyard or the backyard of the house that he and his now ex-wife used to own, and where he raised his kids. And it was well attended, I'd say a hundred, maybe a little over a hundred people there. And because he was very well liked in his, uh. Area of expertise. He was in the record business, uh, working for a label. That's how I met him a long time ago. And he's always kind of been in and around music. So that's where we gravitated. So when we, when we first got to know each other, I found out that he worked with my older brother. My brother was 10 years older than I was. He passed away in 99 from lymphoma. But this guy's name's Frank Frank's sons, uh, Frankie and GI got there kind of early and I was watching people show up and they were people that I've never seen before, but that's not unusual. He lived in la. I live not in la I live in the northwest. Now, he used to be here, but then he, he left. The more people that showed up, you know, you could just tell, you could always tell, back in the day, we used to call 'em record weasels. You could always tell by the way they dressed and by the way, they wore their hair, that they were in the record business in some capacity. Maybe they worked for a distributor, maybe they were actually working for a label handling promotions or something like that. It's like, God, man, you haven't changed your hairstyle since 1986. But it was cool. Frank's ex-wife welcomed everybody in. Talked a little bit about her ex-husband, and then invited her sons to speak, and one of them did, and then his sister spoke and then Frank's brother spoke. Someone else who showed up was another guy that I had met here in Seattle and there was a connection between Ness and Frank Bobby Ness was a rep for Chrysalis Records, knew everything there was to know about Huey Lewis in the news, pat Benatar and all those people back in the day. And Frank worked for MCA Records, which is mainly known for Tom Petty. But those two guys worked with my brother at a radio station here in Seattle, an AM radio station that was the r and b station, KYAC. My brother worked there for like a microsecond before moving to FM radio where he found a home on the FM doll working for the radio side of a television station Here he found a real home. He was well liked and loved, and there were a lot of people who really loved my brother, but not so much as Bobby Ness. And Frank, they would tell me stories about him once they found out that I was Larry J's brother. It was over. We were bound at the fingertips, so to speak. So back to the service. Frank's friends have all shown up in his family and spoke, and then they invited people up to speak and. Bobby Ness got up to speak and laid out how he met Frank and how they got to be friends and supported each other in the record business in Seattle after doing radio together and how they stayed in touch after they both got out of the record business. It was very interesting listening to Bobby talk about him because Bobby was talking about Frank the way that I talked about my brother. And I don't have many stories about my brother because we weren't that close. I took a turn and chose to speak because Frank was one of those guys that was always supportive of everybody. There was a time in my life when I was positive that there was nothing in music for me, and Frank talked me out of it. He talked me through it. He'd listen to any song that I sent him. And never ever took a dump on it, but encouraged me to keep doing it. I stood up in front of all these people, most of which I did not know, and told them how Frank and I developed a friendship around our connection with my brother, both ness and Frank always thought my brother was the chinet. Almost everybody who's ever like encountered him has said that. So for me to be his brother, it was like, ah, as I was talking to all these people, I was remembering when my mom passed and when my dad passed. My dad passed about six months after he and I sat in his garage and had it out. I mean, I really kinda let him have it about some of the things that were done when I was younger, but we cleared the decks. He started the conversation of, you know what, Mike? I finally figured out the leading cause of death. I said, yeah, pop. What's that? He says, birth. And I thought that was funny. A little later on in the conversation, he looked me in the eye and he goes, you know, nobody gets out of this alive, right? And I said, what? He goes, life. Nobody gets out of this alive. And I said, yeah, that's been my experience so far. I was in my thirties and he said, death is not about those who leave. It's about those of us who stay. I, and I thought for a second, I had seen him many a time at the breakfast table looking at the newspaper, turn to the obituaries. And I asked him, what's what? What are you doing? What are you, why are you looking at the obituaries? And he said, I just wanted to see if I knew anybody. And that really, really didn't register with me until after dad and I had this conversation. Death is not about those who leave. It's about those of us who stay. Because once somebody passes away, I don't know if you're spiritual or religious or something like that, but basically what you're left with is this hunk of bone and skin that's gonna deteriorate, and the person who used to occupy that space is no longer here. I walked the long, quote, unquote, the long walk with my mom from dementia to Alzheimer's. Then she finally died. And there were days that I prayed that she would go because I just saw how torturous it was for her to be here. Dad, he couldn't wait to leave. He would lie to the doctors and not take his medication and eat whatever he wanted to, even though he was supposed to watch his diet. My father had made his own career, married the woman of his dreams, raised a family, owned his own business, and pretty much did what he wanted to after he retired. This is a guy who was raised in the post depression south. He grew up in Banks county, Georgia. Two separate of everything, water, fountains, restaurants, bathrooms. He swore he was never gonna raise his family in the south, and he never did. I've never lived in the south. I don't think my brother or sister has ever lived in the south. It's funny, we were all born in Florida at the same hospital, but we've never really lived down there. So Pops is like trying to explain this whole dead thing to me that, uh, it's about those of us who stay. And what he meant by that is there are a lot of people in his life that had passed and he would tell stories about 'em. They were in the army together or they were shipped overseas together or did these maneuvers together, and he's always talking about these people. We'd go on vacation. We always seemed to, we always used to go to the house of somebody he was in the army with, and I really didn't understand all this until he passed away. We talked on a Friday and the next day my sister called me and told me he was dead. And when I went down to my parents' house and walked into the room that he slept in, there was this carcass there. There was a dude that's not my dad, that's some dude dead in the bed. And I sat there for about 45 minutes waiting for the funeral home people to come pick him up. Trying to figure out who the hell was this guy in my dad's bed. 'cause it wasn't my dad. After he was buried, I would think about him a lot, but I wouldn't really say anything. And a couple years after he passed away, my oldest son hit me up one night and asked me if I could come to his work. Now, mind you, this is the story that I'm telling all these people. My son asked me if I could come to his work. He wanted to talk to me after he got done with work. And I said, sure. I wasn't gonna tell my son that a couple weeks earlier I had gone to visit where my father and mother were buried, and I was like, damn, pop. I don't know how you did it. I don't know how you raised us. I don't feel like I'm a good father. I don't understand how to make these decisions and you know, just doesn't seem like I'm doing enough for my sons. I don't need you to help me, but it would be really great if you did. It took me a while to put it together. 'cause like I said, this was a couple weeks before my son asked me to be there. After he got off work, we went for a walk. After the small talk was over, he stopped and looked at me and he goes, I, I need your help. And I said, anything you need, what do you need? He says, I can't stop taking drugs at that point. Uh, I mean, I'd been sober 10 years maybe. Well, like six, seven, but I'd been sober a little while. We talked about how he got into that and how many times he had come to the end of his rope and still figured out that he had to go on and he really didn't know how to stop. I, and I told him, you know what? I think I can help you with that. Better yet, I know some other people who can help you with that. But for now, I can't tell you how big my heart is right now, how proud I am right now. Because you told me, because we talked, we chopped it up a little more and went our separate ways. And on my way home I said, oh, that's how you did it, pop. That's how you did it. And I looked at Frank's sons who were sitting adjacent to me and I said, anytime that you think of your father, he's gonna be there. Anytime you remember what he told you, he's gonna be there. Anytime that you're mad as hell at him, he's gonna be there. The thing about those of us who stay after someone passes, we have the responsibility of making sure others don't forget them. Others who may or may not have cared for that person who we did. And I told those boys, you know, I tell stories about my dad all the time, and that's how I honor him. I honor my dad because he made me, it took me 32 years to start understanding the things that he was telling me when I was 14, and this guy only had an eighth grade education. Still one of the smartest MFS I'd ever met. But I was looking at Frankie G and I said, you know. I was at college for a long time and I would think about both of my parents. They wouldn't be near me, but when I thought of them, I knew where they were and that's what death has been like for me. When someone I know passes that carcass that they had goes away, but that spirit of the person that I knew, the experiences that I had with that person, they never go anywhere. To this day, there are situations that I'm in, they'll just spark a phrase that my dad would say. Getting so sick of trying to track somebody down or trying to get somebody to pay attention and trying to get 'em to do something, they won't do something that you need them to do. I told that to my dad once and he said, you know, when you get tired of getting wet from pissing up that rope, you'll move. I. Translation. Quit chasing that person, and I did, and when I did, I was less frustrated. I didn't worry about them. They had their own life and I had mine out there. We are connected to a whole bunch of people. The next thing I did for those boys and for everybody there is I sang a song. I ended up writing for my brother about a month after he died, called One More Minute. I mean, I have a picture of my brother and I sitting on his hospital bed writing the song that I was gonna perform at his funeral because he knew he wasn't getting outta this alive. I couldn't tell you how that song goes, but the other one. It was about my relationship with my brother. The second verse goes, never leaned on you much, where the close or far away. You got me through the rush to find a quiet place where the mind can think. The eye of the storm is the strength, and I just wanted to say thanks. If I only had one more minute. If I only had one more minute, it would mean the world to me. But now the distance seems so far and I know exactly where you are and we're not that far apart. But if I only had one more minute, if I only had one more minute, it would mean the world to me. And I sang that song for all those people in the family realizing that I was connected to this man who had passed away. Death is not about those who leave. It's about those of us who stay. I quote my father and tell stories about him all the time. I quote my mom and tell stories about her all the time. And when I do, they are with me. And now my friend Frank, I know where he is too. I was told once that there's a Japanese proverb that states the biggest honor you could ever give someone is to show up at their funeral because only real friends show up. There are not very many people whose funeral I've missed. Not that I've gone to a lot of them, but I'll tell you what, everyone that I've gone to, I went to because I wanted to honor this person that I met, developed a relationship with that I knew for a while, and then they were taken and they left, and I'm still here. I honor these people by telling people about them. About us, what we did, and to me, that's the best thing you can ever do for somebody to honor their friendship, to honor their relationship with you. Just talk about what they did and how it made you feel. For those of us who stay, I have a suggestion. If you lose somebody. Remember how they made you feel, and make sure to tell any and everyone about 'em. Your heart will smile and those people will never ever leave. Nobody gets out of this alive. So the only question left is what are you gonna do with the time that you have left? Time is the most important thing any of us has. Why two reasons. One, you can't replace it. You can't make it last Tuesday, you can't make it next Thursday. Two, nobody knows how much time they got. My mom used to say, if God wants to talk to you, you can't put him on hold. Be there for your people. Show don't tell how much you care for people. That's what they'll remember how you made them feel. Thanks for being here. I'll see you next week. Peace.