My Ramblings

In the past, I have wondered why the Facebook pages of deceased folks are left as if the person is still alive. I have seen active pages of those who passed away several years ago. I questioned why someone would want to make comments on Facebook to a dead person. The deceased cannot see it. Then, yesterday I saw a post our daughter, Heather posted Daniel’s Facebook page: Just found a MacGyver Marathon on TV. I reached for my phone so I could tell you about it. This feeling is indescribable Daniel. I just lack the words for how it feels to have you gone. I love you so, so much. Holly commented on Heather’s post : I made a "Daniel" joke and reached for my phone to call him. Is this really our reality now? I wish it was some kind of drawn out sick joke. Our daughters are hurting so much for the loss of their brother and this is one way they try to deal with the emptiness – by talking to their Bubsy on Facebook. I hope they keep it up. It’s nice to read and helps my healing pro

I have gotten many emails, cards, Face book posts and phone calls since Daniel died. Most begin with, “I have no words…” or “I just don’t know what to say…” I want everyone to know that it’s okay to not know what to say. The fact that you communicated your sympathy is enough and so gratefully appreciated. My blog has more than 1200 page views which is amazing to me. I’ve learned from some of the emails I have received there are some who are benefiting from what they read here. This makes me happy. Another thing that quite a few people have said to me regards what “a great guy you are” and, “I appreciate you so much.” Some say I have had a positive impact on them over the years. Wow! I have thought that I’m a nice guy (as well as a funny one) but I have not really considered myself one to impact people or someone who is looked up to by others. But hearing certainly boosts my self-esteem. Thank you! I believe that all of us have someone who thinks this way of us and unless they expr

Today I was thinking of another great connection Daniel and I shared. There were certain TV shows and movies that we liked to watch. If we couldn’t watch them together, we talked about them later by telephone. Some of our favorites were Southland, Boardwalk Empire, Homeland and Band of Brothers. There were others that he liked and I didn’t such as House and South Park. I liked Lost and Friday Night Lights but he didn’t. There were certain movies that we agreed to only see together the first time and often we went to the first showing available on opening day. These included Saving Private Ryan, Shooter, Four Brothers and Gladiator. The last movie we saw together was Warrior. We were both Mark Wahlberg fans. We enjoyed discussing the movie or TV episode and the great characters that the writers had created. We both liked the character John Cooper (played by Michael Cudlitz) in Southland a lot. He also portrayed Sgt. Denver “Bull” Randleman in Band of Brothers. This is a simple connec

After posting yesterday’s blog entry I got to thinking about the relationship between father and son. Daniel and I had many talks about life and what we should do as we go through it. This involves being responsible, holding a job, providing protection, housing, food and the other necessities for loved ones; being law abiding, not hurting others, especially our wives and children; not taking advantage of anyone. We talked about how I had disappointed my Mom (my Dad died when I was 11) and how Daniel had sometimes not lived up to my expectations and not followed my instruction. Sometimes he made me so angry with his behavior (which I will talk about more in the future) and even though I loved him, sometimes I did not like him. Then, today, I realized that no matter how much he angered me, or did not follow my counsel, or broke the “house rules” repeatedly, I still loved him. When he asked me to forgive him I did – every time. I loved my son and I forgive him for his last, terrible mista

As I was looking through my computer today, I found this partially completed letter I wrote to Daniel just before he went into the Navy.  He was 19 years old then. How ironic that only 9 years later I am saying goodbye to him again until that great day when we are reunited again. I do not recall if I gave this to him. Probably not as it looks unfinished and is not signed. I post the letter here for your consideration: July 23, 2003 My Dear, One and Only, Beloved Son, This letter has been long in coming. I have begun it, in my mind, many, many times. It will take me a while to write it but I will finish before you leave. I already miss you and you have not even left yet. Time has gone by so very quickly. It was just yesterday you were 2 years old and we were wrestling on the bed. You were such a little squirt! Now, you are grown up and have become a man. I treasure the moments I remember when you were small; when you looked at me in awe and truly believed I was the greatest man

After I retired last year I quickly found myself sitting around with nothing to do. I was bored and unmotivated to find stuff to occupy my time. I watched a lot of TV and surfed the web. Well, I thought that was bad, but this past couple of days have been even worse. I am lethargic and practically non-ambulatory. I realize this is not healthy but I don’t really care. Some friends have tried to get me to go out and do something active but I always decline. I’ve missed the past five weeks of church because I don’t want to face people right now. I’m not ready to take on the next wave of sympathy from those I have not seen face to face since Daniel died. I want to be a hermit right now. I can hear Daniel saying, with that little smirk on his face that indicated he was half kidding me, “Hey, Old Man, why are you letting this get to you so much? Suck it up and move on.” My answer to him would be something like, “Because it’s how I want to be right now and I’ll suck it up when I’m good and

I began making burial plans for Daniel today. His cremains are sitting on the floor in a plastic box near my desk next to his Navy graduation photo. I glance at them once in a while and shake my head. That my vibrant, funny, complex, opinionated, sheepdog son has been reduced to a pile of ashes is almost beyond comprehension. Today has been very tearful and I suppose there will many such days ahead. Sometimes I just want to scream. Daniel will be interred at the San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery in Santa Nella, 40 miles from here. It is the nearest veterans’ cemetery and our family agreed that Daniel would have wanted to be buried there. The date has yet to be determined but Linda told me today she wants us to do it as soon as possible. I agree with her because it would take us one more step toward closure (whatever that is).

This morning I remembered it would have been my brother, Jeff’s 54th birthday today. Jeff was 15 months younger than me and as youngsters were very close. We had little contact after 1976 when I moved to San Jose and Jeff remained at home in Ceres. We did not see eye to eye on most things in life and we argued a lot when we were together. In 2005, Jeff wrecked his truck, was ejected and badly injured. He had been drinking just prior to the crash. He was in a coma for two weeks in ICU before dying on February 8, 2005, after suffering a stroke. Most people loved Jeff but some strongly disliked him. He was good looking, rowdy and magnetic. Many guys were jealous of his ability to attract girls. As we all do, Jeff had his faults. He was quick to anger and would fight at the drop of a hat. He was self-centered and always wanted to be doing something wild. I used to say that he was born 100 years too late and would have been a legendary mountain man or an outlaw. He loved to hunt bear, wi

The Walker and Faddis families and their friends should all be getting ready for a wedding this evening. Instead, Michelle is in Disneyland with several of her wedding party, Daniel's groomsmen are elsewhere, several members of my family are at a beach in Northern California and I am sitting in front of this computer at home. This is not how it should be. This ought to be a day filled with joy, anticipation and activity. For me it is a somber day. Each of us who were supposed to be in Fremont this evening have been forced by an act we had no control over, to change our plans and spend the day elsewhere. Michelle and her Mom, Debi, came to visit us last week. While here, Michelle told us it was her plan to spend this day in the Happiest Place on Earth. I encouraged her to do so and am proud that she is there now with her supportive friends. I chose to be alone instead of going with Linda, Holly, Bryan and Judah to Dillon Beach to visit our close friends who would have been at the

Michelle and Daniel were set to be married tomorrow at the Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Fremont, CA. Today, we should all be converging on the East Bay to attend the rehearsal for the wedding followed by a dinner that I was to host as the groom’s father. It was going to be at BJ’s Restaurant and I had such a grand picture of the evening in my mind. We expected 30 or 40 people to be there and I was really looking forward to it. It would have been my night to shine as the proud father who would pick up the tab for the festivities. The groom’s dad has it so easy.

A number of people have asked me if I have had trouble sleeping. The answer is no. Sleep is a refuge. It allows me to shut out the reality we are living. While I may toss and turn, and wake up more than usual during the night, my sleep is usually deep. However, it is the waking up that hurts. I have vivid dreams that seem so real, but when I awake, Daniel’s being gone is what I always think of first. It’s almost like learning about his death for the first time over and over again.  

On June 20, 2012, our 28 year-old son, Daniel Kevin Faddis died. His death rocked me to the very depths of my soul. It was shocking and devastating. I now can understand more clearly how deeply my mother was hurt when my brother Kevin died 31 years ago in a car crash. However, my pain has a different level because Daniel shot himself. Some people believe that Daniel did not mean to kill himself, that it was accidental. As for me I do not know anything more than he was very careful about guns and whether he meant to or not, he is still gone from us. This event has changed me forever. I will always be sad that we will never again verbally spar with one another, watch a "macho man" movie together or go on a houseboat trip and compete to catch the most fish. I will not have a grandson named after me or hold a little girl that Daniel fathered. Although I hurt for myself, I hurt even more for my Linda. She carried our only son for nine months, nursed him and raised him while I