Love and Loss in the Windy City Part 1

Me and Kimberly by the river on our first night in Chicago

BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ. BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.  My phone’s vibrations rudely awakened me on my first night in Chicago. Kimberly and I had planned the trip be a romantic getaway—a time to relax, to celebrate, and to create joyful memories. Though young, our relationship had already been a rollercoaster, filled with high highs and some low lows. In a way, Chicago was supposed to be a chance to remind ourselves why we fell for each other in the first place.

I had just found out I was admitted to UCLA Law School and we had just gone out with some of my close college friends the night before. We couldn’t wait to explore everything the Windy City had to offer—cityscapes, food, art, and even Kobe Bryant’s final game in Chicago. There was so much to celebrate!

BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ. I was a little hungover and sort of disoriented as I woke up in a bed other than my own. I peered over at my phone screen and saw that it was my mom. What does she want? I figured it was another case of my mom feelings the pains of having an empty nest while taking care of my father. It had been years since he was diagnosed with end stage kidney disease and over a year since he had suffered a near-fatal heart attack. While I always tried my best to be there for my mom, she could be overbearing at times. Really Mom, 8:30 on a Saturday Morning?

Then I realized something—while it was already 8:30 AM in Chicago, it was only 6:30 AM back in California. Something was wrong. The phone buzzed again. BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ. I picked it up and my worst fears were confirmed. On the other end of the line was my mother, holding back her sobs while she told me “Jimmy, he’s gone.” My heart sank as the reality of those three words hit me like a freight train. I turned over in bed and could barely tell Kimberly what happened.

Room (and sexy shower) at the Dana Hotel

The next hour or so was a frantic blur. I thought of all the things I would never have the chance to do with my dad. He wouldn’t see me off to law school, wouldn’t see me get married, wouldn’t play with my children as Lolo. Kimberly held me and consoled me and my initial shock subsided as I started to figure out my next steps. Should we go back? Of course we needed to go back—nothing else mattered! I shouted in anger. I looked up flights and spent a considerable amount of time on the phone with Virgin Airlines, who eventually placed us on a flight at 5:45PM that afternoon. I wished I had a helicopter or floo powder as I wanted to be with my family right away. I felt guilty that I couldn’t be there with them. Why now? I asked myself.

Ever thoughtful, Kimberly offered to go out and get us something to eat. I mulled it over and realized that we still had about 4-5 hours before we needed to be at the airport. I could either mourn in my hotel room, or go out and reflect on my loss on the streets of Chicago. I opted for the latter—after all, neither Kimberly nor I had been there before. We figured we might as well make the most of the time we had left there. We stared at the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label that we had opened the night before, still over half-full. We poured drinks and toasted to my father as I played songs like “Dance with my Father,” “My Way,” “I’ll be Missing You."  We took our last sips of whisky and headed out into the city.

TO BE CONTINUED