Yesterday was THRITY FIVE YEARS since my father passed away. Seems impossible that I've been alive long enough to have had something happen to me 35 years ago. I remember the day so vividly that I was told he was going to die. I was 9 and sitting on the old couch in our living room on Almayo Street in Los Angeles. My mother and grandmother bookended my little sister and I. My mother was the brave one to tell us this news. "Daddy is very sick and he is going to die". I immediately stood up and ran to the front screen door and began screaming out as if for my father to hear me where he was in the hospital. My memory has always been really terrible. . I can barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday. . . truly. But that one moment in time is so burned in my brain and my ears and my nose that I will never forget that moment thirty five years ago.