Dad’s Death Dance
The smoking related death of my dad six years ago today was the liberating experience for me that I always knew it would be. Max had only recently had his first heart attack and he was not going to his medical appointments. Max McAdams committed Kurt Vonnegut style “honorable suicide” by cigarette smoking. For many years I was sad because my parents died young from taking care of their illegitimate grandchildren. Both of my parents may have been clinically depressed and seeking early death by cigarette.
GOODREADS.COM | “The public health authorities never mention the main reason many Americans have for smoking heavily, which is that smoking is a fairly sure, fairly honorable form of suicide.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Welcome to the Monkey House
God is the Father
Now I only call God the Father and Max is just Dad to me. Max McAdams from Gracemont, Oklahoma was only 79 when he died. Everyone expected him to live much longer and his death was rather surprising. While we were waiting for Crippen’s Mortuary to fetch Max’s body I looked over his important papers. They were all arranged neatly on the kitchen table. When my mom died ten years previously the kitchen table became Max’s desk. His little old man desk. Max McAdams’ insurance authorization letters to see a cardiologist were sitting right there on top. Max had a heart attack three months before he died and did not see any aftercare for it. Max didn’t go to his doctor’s appointments and he didn’t quit smoking. Every other man in Max’s family quit smoking and lived to be over one hundred years old.
Old Grand Dad
Max’s dad was named William McAdams and he lived to be 99 years old. Everyone thought William would live to be 110 like his brothers and sisters. But William fell and broke his hip falling on Max’s sunken living room floor in Tujunga, California. I severely sprained my ankle on the same spot and other family members were injured on Max’s lame living room floor with different elevations.
When Max put his parents William and Marie into nursing homes my sister Diane and I protested. Diane and I told Max that he had just given us permission to put him into a nursing home when he turned 90 years old. Max never even made it to 80.
Death of the Golden Goose
In my eulogy at his memorial service I called Max “The Great Caretaker.” Max took care of two illegitimate grand-bastards named Justin. Justin and Justin killed “Max and Alice the Golden Geese Grandparents.” Max was waiting his whole life to be an angry old man. When my parents died young I was really sad. I cried so much at the mere thought of my mother dying that when she finally died I was too drained to actually cry any more. I was done crying. When Max died I cried really hard because I had only recently been in his face about his smoking. The bastard grandchildren threatened me that if I kept coming around they would “Have ten of their friends make my life miserable.” I erroneously assumed my sister and her bastard son would keep the golden goose alive and take him to get hooked up with a cardiologist. As far as I know Max never ever saw a follow up doctor after he went to Verdugo Hills Hospital in January 2013. The bastards thought they could steal from Max and live at my house I and my siblings inherited from my father forever. They just kept squatting in Max’s death house until the McAdams Family Trust had them evicted recently.