Mom and Dad at our house, Circa ‘72-’74 (undated photograph)
Today is my father’s birthday. He would’ve been 64 today. He was just 60 when he passed away on October 31st, 2004. For a man that I barely knew, I miss him terribly. Not a single day goes by when I don’t think about all the other ways things could have turned out for him. And for me, too.
My father passed away on October 31, 2004. At the funeral home, we had a chance to spend time with his body and I took the opportunity to make some photographs. I thought it would be the only way for me to grasp the reality of the situation and keep myself from breaking down. Looking at the photos I took has weakened my actual memory of being there. I can’t decide if that is a good thing or not. A corpse is not a person; it is cold, lifeless, and almost shapeless. While the body on the stretcher was that of my father, it was not my father. I am still struggling to remember who he was.
I can tell you that Peter Michael Neola was born January 27, 1945. (But so can this website) I know he was born and raised in Shaker Heights, Ohio and had about 13 brothers and sisters. During my childhood I met only 3 of them. At the time of his death he was speaking to none of them. I know he was in the Armed Forces and that he met my mother at one of those dances where pretty girls come to dance with soldiers. They met in San Antonio, Texas, where my mother is from, and then moved to Cleveland. I know at one point he worked for a company called Quadex and he sold computer equipment to medical facilities. We always had pens and notepads with drug companies and drug names on them.
He once had a personalized license plate that said PDSE (Pete, Dora, Scott, Erika) and also purchased our family a brick at Jacob’s Field. He enjoyed golf, played every weekend, and watched it constantly. He also liked Star Trek, preferring the superior TNG to the older run. He also used to drive around in his new VW Beetle and blast ABBA. Loudly.
I cannot tell you his favorite food, color, or season. I cannot tell you if he had a favorite book or movie. I do not know if he died with any regrets, unfulfilled dreams, or dark secrets. I do not know if he ever felt lonely, and ever thought he had gone too far to come back. I cannot tell you if he is in a better place now, or if his suffering here was done in vain.
I wish I could tell you these things about him. I wish I knew more about the man who gave me life, but sadly, I do not. Though he was a hard man to get along with, he was my father and I miss him terribly.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
Mom and Dad, Willowick, OH – October 31, 2004
Dad’s Chair, Mentor-on-the-Lake, 2004
Viewing Room, Monreal Funeral Home, 2004
Dad, Monreal Funeral Home, 2004
Funeral Lodge, Ohio Western Reserve Nat’l Cemetary, Rittman, OH, 2004
Dad’s hillside, Rittman, OH, 2004
