Love you dad!

I wish Liverpool's uninspired defeat to Blackburn Rovers was the worst thing that happened to me on Wednesday January 5th. If I was most upset about a Steven Gerrard penalty miss and a once proud club slipping ever closer towards irrelevance that day, fine. But it wasn't even a distant second on my list. There was no second worst thing. That's because my father, Robert Scott Jones, Sr. died of a heart attack that morning. He was only 59.

Thank God he called me on New Year's Eve. If he hadn't, I might be writing about how bad I feel for not having returned his call from a few days prior. I still feel bad, because I meant to call him on Monday or Tuesday and didn't. I had things I wanted to tell him.  Having spoken to him just a few days before his death does make it a bit easier, but I never got to tell him about how on Tuesday, I chipped in for birdie on the 18th. He would have loved it! Anyway, he was in a great mood that night, (as was I) and he asked me to pass the phone around so he could wish Ria and Chase a happy New Year too. That's just the kind of guy he was.

He was really looking forward to my wedding, and I know there were people who were looking forward to seeing him, and that's been the hardest part of all this. Shit, by that time it would have been three years since I'd seen him face to face. So instead of toasting with him, I'll be toasting for him and that will have to do. 

Obviously, this has been a tough week. But I've had help. My friends Jayme and Sara were here when I got the news, which must have been awkward for them! But they were great. I was also very lucky to have my man Scotty D. flying in to spend a few weeks out here in sunny California. I like to think the Man Upstairs was trying to help me out a bit by sending some extra support out here. 

(Side note- The night before I got the bad news, Jayme came back from San Diego with some pot that can only be described as "bomb-ass." Everything I've smoked before is garbage. I would find out later that it's called Fire Kush, and I swear to God, it helped me through this. It was like Xanex, but way funner. I now truly believe in medical marijuana.)

I also want to thank everyone who's called or texted these last few days. It really does help. But I think I'll wrap this up now. Dad always said that life goes on and he wouldn't want me or my brother Matt to spend very much time being sad. I sure do miss him though.