Chapter 5 | The Godfather
No What Up Yo today.
First off, this is for my Pop.
Its been one fucked up month people.
One fucked in the head month.
My Pop passed away 2 weeks ago from cancer, on fathers day, which we knew he had and had been receiving treatment for, but after a bad fall he ended up in the hospital with a broken neck 2 weeks prior.
MRI’s were done there, and thats when we saw the how bad the cancer actually was. he had hidden its progress from us, his two sons and daughter.
It was everywhere and he had been hiding the progression of it, for us, for himself,
He fought, like he always did, to survive.
In the end he passed on quietly on June 21, 2015.
It’s all been a fucking blur since then to be honest.
I am no stranger to grief, are any of us?
But this is my Pop man, father to me, to my sister Fawn and my big brother Derek.
Our family is an army:
He taught me everything after my mom died.
And we taught him.
We all learned to live together.
How to love, to hate, to fight and be the peacemaker
We became enemies, sworn.
A King and his son, grieving over the death of the Queen…my mother.
Spilling the blood of each other’s armies on the battlefields of the kingdom.
This went on for years.
Turmoil and rage.
For nothing cures sadness like the brutality of a Great War.
Fifteen years on, we ended the violence.
We layed down our arms and met to discuss a truce.
You’re greatest enemy can be your best friend.
He taught me to be a soldier, and I was a great warrior.
But going to battle with him wasn’t what I wanted in my heart.
I began to seek his friendship, his love, by offering him mine.
Complete and total.
And after another ten years, we became the closest of friends.
We never managed to be father and son.
We were brothers in arms.
And that last night, as his second wife stood behind me, monitoring everything I said, waiting for me to leave, pushing me out of the room in the hospice three hours before he croasted over.
I spoke to him with tears pouring out of me.
He was breathing heavy. He couldn’t open his eyes. All he could do was fight to stay alive.
I told him he was my best friend.
I told him I was honored to be his son.
I told him, knowing he couldn’t move, that I was sorry for the war.
“Pop, if you can hear me, please move your hand.”
Which I held tight as I cried.
His head suddenly moved to his left, and our cheeks met.
The tears splashed off my face onto his.
It was such a burst of life, maybe the last he had left.
I walked out dazed, crying and begging his wife to call me if something happened.
Her response was:
“Why do you keep asking me that? I will call!!”
She would not call.
Married 10 years before…my jovial father, recovered from the loss of our mom, met this woman while on a trip to Europe.
She, recently divorced, was out to find a man who would fund her desires and make her husband feel as if she wasn’t crushed when he left her crazy ass.
My father became that man.
He was reduced to a little boy chasing around this wife anywhere she wanted to go
He bought her anything she wanted, he waited on her day to night, and he never said no to her her.
He returned from Europe, announced he was in love.
We meet her 2 months later, she is on her best behavior, we think she’s nice.
She moves here 6 months later from Switzerland.
Thats when the changes began.
We, his family, went from seeing him whenever we wanted, to suddenly being told we couldn’t see him unless we announced ourselves a day or two in advance.
She didn’t want us around. She wanted all of his…let’s say attention…and she wanted know one whispering in his ear that something was wrong with this situation.
My sister, who was the one closest to my father, was told to move to the basement of the family house and to start looking for as new place to live the first week the woman arrived.
The family stopped seeing him, his friends stopped seeing him.
We all lost him so when we did see him, we savored the time.
And here I was on the last night of his life being told I had to leave his side along with my brother and sister by this woman he loved, this demon I hated who had stolen him from us for 10 years.
By this woman he was afraid would leave him.
By this woman who knew his weakness was the loss of a woman he loved…because that is what broke him when my mom died in 1982 and took him 20 years to recover from.
I approached and begged the man on staff to please contact me if there was a change overnight.
That I knew it was the end.
I was asleep when the call came in at 2 AM but my brother was awake.
Here from Arizona, it was he who told me and my sister the news.
His wife never called.
I wanted to push on, as pointless as it all seems to be right now, I only know that the show must go on.
Oldboy and Myself agreed to tackle the monster, The Godfather Saga.
Films my father and I shared together, loved together.
We dedicate this series to him, his life and how fucking much I miss him and wish he could hear it.
I love you Pop, so much. So fucking much.
I hope you’re safe. I hope mom was waiting for you at the gates to eternity.
I hope your reunion was glorious.
This chapter is for you Pop.
My life is for you.
I love you.
Oldboy & Wes begin their journey.
They take on the Francis Ford Coppola crime saga masterpiece:
And while our counterparts may do a review of part 1 or part 2, we pledge to take them all on.
However, there is no way that we could have accomplished this feat in 1 chapter.
So we have broken each film down into a 4 to 5 episodes series.
We start at the beginning and make our way though the films iconic scene by iconic scene.
“Oh, dear Dad,
Can you see me now?
I am myself like you somehow.
I wait up in the dark,
For you to speak to me
I’ll open up
– Pearl Jam, 1991