When we first moved into our house I broke a water pipe in the backyard. Shooting water like a hydrant, I was somewhat panicked when I called Joe. Within a few minutes he came over and capped it off.
Joe loved to eat at Philippe's (beef dip) just outside Chinatown, and so today we took all four boys there for dinner.
Just to get this out of the way, I don't understand this place at all. This food falls into the same category for me as Tres Leche cake (stale soggy cake), tamales (dry crap with stuff in that doesn't go together)- people in my life are CRAZY about this "food"-
Really?
So, we went to eat at Philippe's and waited in line for the dry beef on a tasteless wet roll.
The boys are not sentimental, and there was no actual discussion about Joe, although I did feel as though we should have observed a moment of silence before choking down the entree.
Although Julien (20) said he wanted to "slap Christian (18) in his face and knee him in mouth", which his mother discouraged, (I sort of wanted to see the knee in the mouth part), in the end there was no incident of what I call boy on boy violence.
We don't talk about Joe as much anymore, yet I know for the boys and Gioconda they miss him all the time.
I can't say I miss him, but I hate it that he is dead.
I hate that all every meaningful event is shadowed by his absence.
I hate that the boys don't have their father on father's day.
I hate that Joe didn't get to see Aidan play club soccer, or visit Christian and Julien at Cal. I hate that he didn't take Dylan to get his driver's license. I hate that he didn't get to see the Dodgers make it to the play-off's this year.
I hate that he didn't get to see Obama elected, he would have loved this election season.
I hate the grief and utter loss Gioconda and the boys endured as a result of his leaving, and for their loss of innocence.
And I hate that when I break a pipe in the back yard I have no one I can call.
Today he would have been 55-
Happy Birthday, Joe.
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