JPF Home Page Forums General Messages Brian Austin Whitney Blog Thursday, August 14th, 2008

Hi Folks,

As you likely know by now, my father passed away last Wednesday, August 5th at 7:42PM, 2008 at the VA Hospital in Tampa. There was no funeral, so I guess this is my chance to at least say something on his behalf.

Here's the last photo of me and my father. Linda took it with her cell phone in June at the hospital. I, who always has a camera with me, just happened not to have it, so that was our only option. Fortunately it came out okay. I hadn't seen my Dad for 30 years when he showed up at a hospital in Florida in critical condition. We were told he had less than 24 hours to live and that we should literally "pull the plug" while he was unconscious. We had quite a battle over the issue with my holding fast to NOT doing that. The Doctors were furious with me but in less than 3 days, not only was he awake, but he was also off the respirator and talking (albeit short lived). This sort of went back and forth over the next 2.5 years where doctors would say "pull the plug" or "he's only got 24 hours" and both he and I kept defying their opinions. This most recent time was different though. I knew instantly when going into his room that the end had come. And less than 24 hours after I got down there, he was gone. There's a long story about how I didn't see him for 30 years, but I was very glad that I got a little time on the other side of that to fill him in on my life and share some of the stories and adventures I'd gone on. He was especially proud of my work with JPF (notice the hat which he LOVED). I also got a little insight to who he was and though he wasn't always coherent on most visits, our last visit in June he was the sharpest he'd been the entire time since he showed back up in my life. He was very upbeat and looked the best he'd ever looked in the 2 years. He was current on sports and politics and shared his thoughts on both and vice versa. My wife got to see him alert and happy and accepting (for the first time) of the reality of the situation. His nursing staff really cared about him (even more than we'd realized when they came to visit him on his death bed in a scene that was both heartwarming and heartbreaking). My Dad lived a very troubled and unfortunate life. (nothing like legal problems or anything.. but more a case of someone always raging against the machine to the cost of everything else in his life including family and friends). My mother raised me alone for most of my childhood (a step father later came into the picture and that had its own difficulties). I certainly owe the way I turned out to her and not to my Dad. He didn't support us or nurture us or set any examples for us. But even with that, we had a coming together of sorts in the end. I had long since forgiven him and he'd expressed his feelings towards me and my brother. In that last 2.5 years while he laid in a hospital bed, he got to meet his grown children (I'm 44 and my brother is 49), his 2 grandchildren, his 2 daughter in laws and get a crash course on what had happened in our lives since we'd last spoken way back in early 1977. We even got to show him photos of our trip to Europe, where he'd never been. We only got through the first 1/3 of it, planning to show him more during the next visit that would never come. I only have 2 photos of me with my father above the age of 6 or so (if that even). This is one of them (and another similar to it from that first meeting in 2006). He didn't achieve anything of note in his life, though he did serve 3 years in the military which is why he was in the VA hospital in TAMPA (and most likely why he lived as long as he did in spite of what the Doctors thought). He didn't accumulate wealth or success in work. He didn't have friends at the end or any other family by his side or anyone else we could even call that would be interested beyond his neighbor who had hunted me down 2 years ago via a Google search. But he did have 2 sons who have done well in spite of his absence, and who nonetheless are genetically linked to him and thus he lives on in each of us. (He was also a big band and jazz drummer and most likely I got my musical genetic code from him). And at the end, I think we were all at peace with it all. At least I was. I am pretty sure he was too. He didn't want to be buried, but rather cremated and his ashes spread in his backyard. We'll be doing that part next time we go to Tampa. There was no one to come to a funeral, so this photo is really all that will remain of him beyond the few memories we have. Some childhood memories did crop up while my brother and I sat and contemplated it all and they reminded me that it wasn't always bad back when he was around. Its just such a waste that so much was missed. He certainly missed out on more than we did. And for that, I am the saddest. I wish I could get that message out to all of you, and if you're reading this, perhaps a light bulb will go off and you'll make a little more of an effort to reach out to those close to you in your life. Even if they don't really deserve it. You'll feel better and so will they. Give it a try. I am glad I did.



Bruce Lee Whitney 1942-2008