I’ve put this off long enough. It’s here whether I like it or not, so I have to deal with it.

As I write this, it’s Saturday afternoon on July 5, 2025, a little more than sixteen hours before the call from Mom came at 5:45 that something was wrong with Dad in 2020.

My life changed forever that morning, and got much more difficult much more frustrating and much more complicated, and in many ways, it still is.

For my Mom and I, Dad was our rock. He was the dependable father who always took care of us, even when times were lean early on. He was an incredibly talented musician and entertainer. He was a generous man in private and in business.

He was the kind of man who gave writer’s credit to his band, no matter how much or little of a song they had contributed, several former band members or their families still earn money from the songs they performed on.

He loved horses, he loved dogs and cats, he loved people, he could strike up a conversation with a complete stranger and he would give you his last dollar, or even the shirt off his back.

He was kind, he was wise and he gave great hugs.