the stars are bright tonight
The Stars Are Bright Tonight
My father died on July 25th, 2014. These journals were written in the year that followed. Years of sadness, love, happiness, despair, and hope. Trying to find an answer or a purpose to it all. In the end it seems there was nothing to search for. Just be here, ride the wave, and be at peace with it all.
The Beginning
The first journal entry is the day after my dad took his last breath on this earth. He fought for 7 hard months before dying of the disease. A human we will never forget, because he made us feel.
Day 1: July 26, 2014
Hood River, Oregon
The stars are bright tonight. The breeze is cool yet comforting. There are wilted sunflowers in a vase to my right. A picture frame of my father and grandmother to my left. So much pain all around.
July 25th, 2014, my best friend left this earth. My father is dead. The script has been written for Peter Harold Moles born April 3rd, 1956. My mind is racing. I am waiting for the door to open, watch my father walk through it, and forget this horrible mess.
People laugh, talk, and reminisce today. All I want is quiet and more quiet. It is day 1 and I can already feel my body and mind slipping into the darkness. My life had purpose and drive. Now, I am left with memories and an empty hand.
The pain is unbearable. I see his face every second. Both faces. The sick face. The beautiful face - full of life and love.
The stars are bright and I have no idea which one to follow.
Day 2: July 27, 2014
Hood River, Oregon
I am remembering our trips up to Montreal, Quebec. The 2 hour drive.
We are close. He pays the parking man. We are walking fast now. Eager to see the game. Noise. More Noise. It is electrifying and inspiring. “Tickets, Tickets..” He talks the man down for cheaper scalp tickets but knows when to pay up. The noise is growing. We arrive at our section. The noise builds and then bam! The orchestra of fans hits our ear drums. It is magical. The Bell Centre. He Smiles. We have beer and pizza. “Go Habs Go! Go Habs Go!”
We are driving back now. I get sleepy and doze off. He drives. I sleep. Comfort. All I feel is comfort.
Back to reality. I am having trouble picturing a life without my father. I don’t have the tools yet to build a new road.
Nothing seems as important.
Trying to keep sane by exercising.
The noise is building, fists are clenching, tears are hidden.
Day 3: July 28th, 2014
Hood River, Oregon
It was a silent drive on the way to the funeral home. AC on high. Sun blazing on the black honda. The radio whispering in the background. We turn right after the tall green hedge bushes and park. I take a breath and exhale. My mom, sister and I open the door. The sun feels good. It is a beautiful day.
We wait in the lobby with the fake leather chairs and depressing music. God was it depressing. We take another breath. One more. Someone escorts us to the “Mt. Hood Room.” My father lay there. Dead. Cold. But very much at peace. A quilt draped over him and a red, luscious rose between his hands. Tears rush down my face. I’m waiting for him to talk. Talk please. One more time. More tears. I put a hockey stick, deck of cards, golf ball, drill bit, a Nazareth College t-shirt, and a picture of us at the hockey hall of fame. Tools Necessary for any journey.
“I’ll make you proud” I whisper to him. “I love you, you are my best friend.”
“I will make you proud.”
“Thank you for what you have given me.”
“I will make you proud.”
Kiss on the cheek. More tears. I quietly leave knowing I would never see his face again except through photos. And the mirror.
God I loved him so much. We had a big family dinner tonight at ‘Divots.’ I reminisced when Dad and I brought our putters and chipers to mess around while we waited for our meal. Longest putt competitions and 9 hole mini putt games we played. We both smile big. The sun would set and we would still play…
It was quite the rollercoaster today. Day 3. My soul grows older. In so much pain. The pain was worth it though. He gave me everything. I couldn’t ask my father for anything more. Except maybe one last goodbye, I love you, hugs, fist bump, handshake, cheers, hug. More tears. Keep Moles strong.
The Months That Followed
Wednesday December 31, 2014
159 days Rochester, New York
It has been five months and six days. One breath was taken, 5 months have gone by. I am depressed, lonely, and unsure. I can’t feel his presence much anymore. I try to imagine and picture him in the distance somewhere, waving at me, saying in his warming “best friend” tone, “Hey bud.” Reality pulls me back.
I wanted to write in this journal everyday. I wanted to write down my thoughts, fears, regrets, memories, but time has carried me onward. Routine after routine. Morning after morning. The same morning over and over again. Wake up. Laugh. Shake my head, “What the fuck? Huh?”
Get out of bed. Time carries me onward out the door to hockey practice, school, or social scene. I don’t want to feel bad for myself. Everyone has problems. But these problems are just background noise to me.
It is simple. I miss my father more than life itself. I hope I continue to write more. I like writing. It calms me. Keeps me focused on 1 thing. Time carries me onward.
One Year: Looking Back
July 27th 2015
1 Year 2 Days 30,000 feet above ground
I am currently sitting on an airplane heading back to Lake Placid, New York. Myself, sister, and mother are leaving Hood River, Oregon for a family get together to celebrate and remember the life of Peter Moles - my father. I have done much reflection this summer in conjunction to the events that have unfolded in my life. I feel as if it is an extraordinary to write down new experiences and people I have met. So here it goes.
We will begin with the moment I found out I was losing my father in this physical world:
I had just come back from our epic trip in Mexico with my good friends: The Jacksons and the Cohens. It was a family trip filled with laughter, drinking, kiting, whale shark swimming, and the occasional speedo. Life was certainly incredible. At one point in the trip, it was me, Dad, Piper, and Mom all kiting together. I don’t believe many families that can come together like that.
I have lived an incredible, interesting, bedlam, serene, unthinkable life so far. I have traveled all across North America, Mexico, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, hockey in British Columbia for 2 years, hockey in Massachusetts for 3 years, and now Rochester, New York. Yes, I have been on quite the rollercoaster shaping my values and character.
There was a plethora of great times with my father - building houses with him at a young age, working for him, working with him, kiting at the coast. Just me and him in the cold Pacific (I don’t think I will ever forget that). Biking, skiing, hiking, Montreal Canadian games, dinners, lunches, hockey tryouts, games. Wow. We accomplished a lot.
He taught me valuable and invaluable lessons: Don’t burn a bridge, there is a purpose for everyone in this world, work hard, play hard. Death. It happens even to our heroes.
Our time is ticking, we must carry on and live to the fullest. To many people talk about this and don’t act.
July 30th 2015
1 year 5 days Lake Placid, New York
Woke up around 7 am this morning to paddle Cascade Lakes. I arrived around 8 am and set out on the left, longer lake. Cars pollute the air with noise, but the scenery was magnificent. Quiet shorelines and massive drop offs in the water, make the lake mysterious and scary. The paddle would be nicer early, say around 5:30 am.
Later that day a group of us rode up Whiteface Mountain for the monthly full moon ride. It is hard to put into words how incredible the ride and experience was. The whole uphill 5 mile ride, the sunset on the tired faces. I kept busy looking out on to Lake Placid, New York from above.
On top we drank beer, laughed, and cried. Watching the sunset and the moon come up on opposite sides was truly the best moment of my life since Dad died. We sprinkled some of his ashes at the top, and ate some for good measure (he is and always will be apart of us).
That weekend we enjoyed family time with the Moles. Playing cards, drinking, and singing along to Nick’s guitar playing. We talked of Kristy’s wedding which we all look forward to.
September 15, 2015
1 year 52 days Rochester, New York
I am back at Nazareth College now. Slowly getting back into the routine of college life. Life is great and life is horrible sometimes. Things feel different this year. I’m losing sense of time and perception. I have a very hard time envisioning my future. Living in the present moment has become very hard. I am extremely aware of the unknown future.
I think what scares me the most is that I am now trying to move on. My mind is pushing to carry forward but I won’t let it. This burden carries serious depression at times. I am still trying to figure out who I really am in the process.
I love you Peter Moles.
I love you Peter Moles.
Poem:
Smile is bright.
Hug is firm.
Hand is warm
He was ours
He was mine
Sometime
We will see
Into the darkness we trek
To the finish much driven
We will see
If plans have risen
Or darkness is given
Smile is bright
Hug is firm
Hand is warm
We will see
The Lessons He Left Behind
A few months before my father died, we were walking through the hospital coming back from a doctor’s visit. A visit that showed little promise to my family and my father but we still remained hopeful. We walked slowly through the opening doors of the elevator, through a hallway, and into the large entrance of the hospital. It was an open space filled with tables, a large fountain, someone playing music on a piano. Those tables were filled with other lost stories.
To the left was a mosaic of Jesus Christ. My father glanced around and his eyes fixed on God’s son. He calmly looked at me and softly spoke, “I am going to need him soon.”
I didn’t know what to say. Tears started rushing down my face. “You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that. You got this Dad,” I hopefully responded.
My father wasn’t a religious man. We never grew up regularly attending church or praying our sins away. Yet, he believed in a higher power. How could you not? Just look at the stars.
That higher power was calling to him. It was giving him the courage to accept his past and what was to come. He was learning the true lessons of life: learning how to die. A journey some of us never reach.
Peter Moles was a man. Yet, his actions did not suggest so. He faced his disease with courage. He never wavered, or panicked, or wished for this or that. He never wished for more time.
When asked if he wanted to do anything before he died Peter responded with a firm ‘nothing.’ He lived his life to the fullest and achieved his dreams. He didn’t waste his time with unworthy pursuits. His heart was full. Did he want to leave his family behind? Hell no!
My Dad owned his own home building business, The best in the Adirondacks, called Cascade Builders. Before he died, I pleaded, “Who is going to help build my house?” I was worthless without him. He smiled, “You will figure it out. Ask someone.”
He knew my mom, sister and I would somehow be alright.
My sister wrote me a letter after my dad’s death, which storied a dream she recently had. In the dream my father reminded me to never lose touch with my mother and sister.
I read that dream from my sister often when I want to think of them all. All four of us.
-Molesy