Funerals , wakes, memorial services......I've been to more than i can count. The first person of any importance to me (that i was old enough to comprehend ) that died was my swim coach Bob Hannon. He was a warm and wooly big bear kinda guy. The man was so funny that you could easily imagine him being a drive time morning DJ..with his larger than life personality and booming laugh.
I can't remember what he really did for a living ..might have been a teacher. He was a second dad to everyone on the team. It was 1973. I was thirteen and already obsessed and spooked by the concept of mortality. Mr. Hannon died of a massive heart attack.
After hearing the news I was so upset that I couldn't sleep. My dad tried to comfort me. He was buddies with Mr. Hannon and needed to process this whole thing himself. Dad talked to me about fear ..about how he tried to deal with it in his own life. He was right there for me..even though talking about stuff was not easy for him. I decided that I could not handle going to the funeral. Most of the kids from the team went. I was embarrased that I wasn't strong enouhg to go.
Today I am going to a memorial service. I've got to admit..that while I no longer avoid going..the 13 year old frightened kid also attends
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