Tobacco Almost killed me, and It Killed My Dad
But I still Miss It
I think about my dad
It was the early seventies, my family and I were living on Johnson Airforce Base in Japan. My mom and dad taught English to Japanese Businessmen on the side for extra money.
I was a bad, bad boy
While my parents were teaching English, they would have neighborhood teenage girls babysit us. I was around eleven or twelve, maybe younger. One night, the babysitter brought her cigarettes. I was fascinated by cigarettes.
The Babysitter was hot
In my mind the babysitter was pretty, or it might be because my dad smoked, and I worshipped my dad. The babysitter offered me a cigarette.
I coughed and choked, but I loved the hot smoke in my lungs so much that I stole a pack of my dad’s Winstons. It was a fun evening until my mom came home, and my little sister ratted me out.
Too stubborn for my own good
The grounding and ass-chewing didn’t work. I smoked cigarettes until my mid-twenties; by then, my fingers were turning brown, and I had a chronic cough. One night, I was out somewhere with my mom; we were talking. When, out of the blue, decided that I would quit cold turkey. By this time, I was in my twenties: “You know mom, I think I will quit smoking.”
Quitting cold turkey sucks
I went through a week of Hell, but I quit smoking tobacco, and eventually, I gave up Pot as well. Things changed when my mom died on her fifty-sixth birthday.
I lost my mind. My mom never smoked or drank her entire life, and she died on her damned Birthday, so what difference would it make if I smoked or not?
I loved my cigars
My dad and uncle were smoking in the house, and it was killing my sinuses. I got a bug up my ass about it. “ If I can’t beat them, I will join them.” I started smoking cigars, and not the cheap ones.
At least that’s what I told myself
I loved cigars, I couldn’t keep the damned things out of my mouth. It wasn’t long before I was inhaling them. I’m stubborn, so watching my dad die from lung cancer didn’t immediately cure my stupid ass.
Bronchitis did the trick
A bout of bronchitis did the trick. I missed several days of work, and I couldn’t smoke if I wanted to. This was a few years after my dad died, but the way he died was still fresh in my mind.
I quit the cigars. I quit cold turkey. The withdrawals were worse than with the cigarettes, but I did it. It’s been over ten years now, but I still think about cigars, and I dream about them.
This is no way to die. My dad said, days before he passed away
I think about the way my dad died. He died six weeks after diagnosed with cancer that started in his lungs and spread throughout his body. The way he died is something that I will never forget.
If you smoke, quit
If you smoke, quit. I promise you that cancer is not a way to die. I will not go into details, but my dad died in misery, covered in pain and shit. Please don’t do that to yourself or your family.
I loved smoking more than anyone I ever knew, but it’s not worth it.
I’m glad he is now free of pain
I was at work when the Deputy called to tell me my dad was gone. One of the first things I said was: “ I’m glad.” I was glad that his pain was gone, and I was glad that I didn’t have to watch the big strong man I knew and loved get his ass beat.
Smoking sucks
My dad and I learned to show love to each other and to talk to each other after a lifetime of misunderstanding, and it pisses me off that he’s gone. I’m glad we made peace before he died, and I wish we would have had more time.
Takeaway: Stop smoking