18 years ago now. HM is suddenly gone, forever.
I remain, however, and am more or less in the same place in terms of dealing with the loss of the great HM/ET Bass.
Each passing year means that (naturally and obviously) more healing time has gently placed itself between the physical loss and my emotions. It’s a good thing, actually, and I’m fully committed to accepting it. After all, what choices do I have? I suppose I could resist it and maintain a life full of darkness and pain, constantly denying reality. But that’s a super hard road and kinda stupid!
Not for me.
Instead, and not unlike the movie “Otto” with Tom Hanks, 18 years ago I was handed a heavy set personal life choices.
Bottom line: my father would be glad to know that under the circumstances of his loss, I am as happy as can be, apparently able to successfully navigate both the harsh and calm conditions that make up the vast ocean of his love and legacy.
He made such a deep impression on so many of us.
I’m truly blessed to be the person writing about him.
I will always love you, dad.
Here it is again. Another anniversary of the passing of my great father, now at year 17.
That’s a pretty long time, but to me it doesn’t feel like 17 years. I am amazed at how fresh his passing still feels.
I remember all of the details of that day. A day that seemed impossible just moments beforehand.
That strange feeling radiating around in my chest, best described as an amplified sensation of shock and heartache. I get this sensation less as time marches on, but I’m feeling it right now.
I have matured since that day, and naturally I have adjusted as good as can be expected to this huge loss. None of us have a choice in this. We must find ways to regain happiness without those special family members, or great friends, or even great pets.
Cutting is the key and it’s a good thing. Do it as fast as possible. The sooner you can the better. However, it took me about 10 years.
Cutting doesn’t mean a complete emotional cut. It’s about cutting off the pain from loss, and moving on to accepting your new world.
Howard would say “Life is for the living.”
I will face this day, head on, again, and practice his wise advice.
What about some laughs? Perhaps “Mountain Wedding” is on tap today.
RIP Maggie Peterson, Betty Lynn, and ETB -with love.
Dad, you are so dearly missed. We will always love you.
A very very dear friend, Carl, passed away last night.
I will write more about our relationship with him, soon.
Thank you, Carl, for being there.
With love, David
My father passed away 15 years ago today. If you have followed my previous posts marking this significant date, you will see how sad previous years have been, not just for me, but for so many others he touched. Oddly, this is the first time in 15 years that I truly am relieved that he is no longer with us. Howard was a force. A performer. He craved putting it all out there, putting it all on the line pleasing and getting that tremendous feedback wave from his audiences. Covid-19 changed all of that by shutting in so many talented older folks, just like Howard. I have some very talented friends now locked inside, as though in prison. They have been emotionally hobbled and can no longer do what they do. These are funny people that thrive on being funny, now struggling to make it through each day. This virus has been rough on all of us. It is a horrible way to live life. For performers and entertainers it is devastating, akin to the millions of folks who have lost their jobs with no hope in sight.
Howard, had he still been alive, would have lived in Los Angeles, a city in total lockdown with an unknown and unpredictable path towards reopening. I have no doubt Howard would’ve suffered massive depression by this point.
So I say to you, my dear father, as much as I wish you were still here, I am relieved that you do not have to suffer through this. You already dealt with enough good as well as crap in your life.
I love you, dad. Always have, always will.
It was 14 years ago today that we lost one of the greatest human beings, Howard Morris.
I will never forget this date for as long as I’m around. May 21, 2005 is historic.
He was so very special. I can’t describe with words the gravity of this loss. For me, 14 years is as good as 14 minutes.
He loved the show, loved Ernest T. Bass, and he loved all of you, his fans. This site was a very special place for him. His creativity and his interactivity with you was and still is so very special.
My mission is to keep this site alive in his memory, and for you, Howard’s dear fans.
I love you, dad. —>Always have, always will.