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The death of your father surprised me, @BossMongosDaughter. Partially because he was only 54 years old. But also because I was surprised at how it affected me. How could I be so grief-stricken over the loss of someone I'd never met? I was crushed, and I didn't know why. As you saw from the responses to your recent post, I'm not the only one who had this response to your father's passing. He seemed to make quite an impact on people. Lots and lots of people.
If you haven't done so yet, please go read my post on this topic: The Loss of a Friend. Even more importantly, read the comments. Boss's influence, on so many people, is remarkable.
He and I had a great time together, all those times that we weren't together. We seemed to just naturally understand each other. His advice was always wise. Well, usually. And we both enjoyed giving each other a hard time. Well, usually. He could be a bit stubborn sometimes - really - you just can't imagine. But we had an absolute blast.
I'll always regret not going to meet my friend: Tell Them Boss Sent You. It just never quite worked out. I look forward to meeting him on the other side.
I invited him to my house once when a hurricane was headed for the keys. Then the hurricane turned toward Hilton Head, and he invited me to HIS house. Then the hurricane faded out to sea, along with another opportunity to meet my friend.
You just never know, do you?
Thanks for joining us, BMD - it's an absolute pleasure to meet you. I've been wondering when you were going to show up. If there's ever anything that I can do for you, please reach out. I owe a favor to Boss. Maybe two...
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Discussion (7)
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I doubt she has to imagine it, she can remember it.
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Boss Mongo was a treasure.
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@drbastiat crappy terms, but happy to be here and nice to meet you. The death of Dad crushed and crumbled all of us. I didn't realize but Dad was the glue that held our family together. It's been an extremely difficult road for my entire family. Everyone handles grief differently, and I think it was difficult for me to come onto this site my father adored so much because that made his loss real. As I mentioned in my original post, time is the only thing that has made it easier. But that is a hard pill to swallow because the memories and emotions that were so fresh and recent, are getting more and more distant. I had a close friend of mine who also lost her father suddenly as an adolescent tell me, "People die twice. Once when they leave earth, and again when people stop telling their stories. Your Dad will never die because everyone close and far, will always share his stories."
I'm not quite ready to get back to the BJJ mat but... 2024, I am trying to honor my Dad in the smallest ways I can. He was the smartest person I've ever known (I've worked at teaching hospitals with renowned docs and surgeons, they could never hold a candle to Boss Mongo) and he always pushed me to read and write. Before I decided to go into healthcare, journalism was my #1 choice. I wanted to be the next Laurie Dhue. Things change, and the Oxford comma is an ultimate fear of mine. But. Like Dad always said, "reading makes you smarter." SO, here we are.
My goal now is to contribute a key story or moment once a week. As terrifying as it felt to write Dad's letter and post it to the site, it was extremely cathartic. My long-term goal is to get some of Dad's writings published. I realize I have to walk before I run, but I'm hoping Boss Mongo is smiling from the Pearly Gates above thinking "Alright, at least I got one thing sorta kinda right with her."
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Your a good friend to have Doc. Never feel guilty about the 11am bourbon on the balcony... Well, if that makes you enjoy it a bit more then okay.
Looking forward to it. Boss Mongo, that's a very cool name.
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Your friend is most wise. Keep telling those stories, your dad's, your family's and your own, both IRL and online. (Ricochet is a great place to do the second.)
Some of my favorite--and most heartbreaking--memories of your Dad's posts stem from his writing about his dogs. Many vulnerabilities of my own there, and he never failed to have me either in gales of shared laughter, or in tears of empathetic sorrow.
Then there was the day, on a post where a rather trollish member had been holding forth for page after page and his fellow members had been trying, somewhat ineffectually, even on your dad's part, to make him go away, that I showed up and--basically, and in short order--incinerated the guy.
Your dad's next comment? "Marry me, She!" Followed by a parenthetical "pretend" recollection that he'd already tied the knot some time ago. I got such a belly laugh out of that.
And then there was his private nickname for a fellow member who'd been giving me some considerable guff. That's a story I cannot repeat here, but it still brings me great joy to recollect.
Please. I know each one will be treasured. I miss him too.
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