Dog Shrink
Lost in the Lizard World
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- 2,799
- Location
- NW PA.
Ok I'm sure this seems pretty odd and I really don't care... I was told it would be good therapy for me, so hopefully it will be. I feel pretty comfortable here on the forum now having gotten to know a lot of people, made a bunch of good friends, and I think y'all are a wonderful community. Everyone has their own special flavor that they add and I think it's great. Thank you Kelli for making this wonderful place for people to gather.
Ok so here goes...
My dad passed away a year ago on the 29th of January. He was 78 years old. He was a great man, a carnie to the bone, and simply Eddie to his friends.
I was born in Montreal, and an adopted child at 1 1/2 years old. I was raised in south Jersey,Wildwood (just south of Atlantic city) to be exact and my parents had games on the boardwalk my entire youth until I was about 18. I grew up on the boardwalk practically, a great childhood I wouldn't trade for anything. The Carnie call of "5 chances at the wheel for only a dollar" resonates in my ears as clearly today as it did when I was 5.
My parents divorced when I was 12, but both still had their boardwalk games, my mom had an arcade, and my dad had "the wheel". He became a weekend father and I loved the time we had together. My mother was a real hard ass and my dad the polar opposite. I remember milkshake weekends, and pizza watching old Clint and john wayne movies. Building hobby horses out of 2x4's and string mops or passing the time at the beach which was only 2 blocks away. I miss those days. My dad was my hero despite not being born of his loins.
I moved to Pennsylvania when I was 19. My dad spent his summers in south Jersey and wintered in Florida so we didn't see eachother very much at all after that but spoke every week, then every month as the trappings of life busied my time. I regret not having spent more time with him after I moved, but we always made it a point to talk with eachother and kinda of watch the westminster dog show together despite being miles apart. It was the one thing we always had together despite the distance (and the phone bills were horrendous btw before the age of unlimited calling and cell phone plans). I think it was that common interest in dogs that made my drive to want to be a Behavior specialist even stronger knowing I would be doing something with an animal we both loved. It gave us something to talk about and to bond over.
Jump forward several years... my dad was never the type to tell you there was ever anything wrong with him, but when the months would go by and he wouldn't answer the phone or be there for my calls I started to worry. I finally got a hold of him one day and he finally broke down and told me he was in the hospital with non-Hodgkin lymphoma, but in true dad form conversations ended with "but I'm doing much better now, just feeling kinda flu-ish". Every time I offered to come down to visit him, using the ruse of taking the kids to Disney world, he would tell me to save my money, the kids wern't old enough yet, they wouldn't enjoy the experience, so I did. I always listened to daddy... he was my voice of reason.
Well last year we went thru another one of those silent spells. Neither my brother or I was able to get a hold of him for like 4 months, and every time we called we'd get an operator message just saying that the call couldn't be put thru, not that the number was disconnected, nothing indicating his contact info had changed and he might have just, in his old age, forgotten to let us know. So after getting sick of not being able to get a hold of him and not knowing any of his friends in Florida I started searching the internet to see if I could find new contact information for him, what I found insted was devistating...
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sptimes/obituary-preview.aspx?page=obitfinderorder&pid=139306248
http://www.tributes.com/show/Edwin-Mullin-87839553
No one called us, no one let us know, no one had a clue he had surviving kids as he declaired himself indigent when he went into the nursing home that last 8 weeks of his life so we wouldn't be burdoned with his funeral expenses, and because of that, there was no funeral for us, no final chance to say goodbye, nothing... He'd passed 4 months before I found this information. He was already gone. He wanted to be cremated, his ashes were spred in the Gulf as he requested being the eternal beach bum he was it was a befitting end to his life BUT... now I had NOTHING of him, not his ashes, not his possessions... no closure, no ending...
Mysteriously one day about 5 months after his passing, I get a package from Florida, in writing I knew and was familliar to me... my dads... he had put together in a box his last memoires of himself and his life... some of his letterman badges from Lasalle University in Philly where he grew up, some pictures of him thru the years, a couple personal papers and a copy of his will. He knew his time was limited, he instructed one of his friends to send it upon his death (which obviously dude missed that mark a little bit as I'm sure it got lost in the shuffle of everyday chaos). He took the time to put together these treasures for me knowing I had nothing, would have nothing of him after he died... another devistating blow but a hidden treasure I guess you could say because now I had a part of him, I knew he thought of me, I knew he missed me, but most of all I knew he truly loved me.
So as the first anniversary of his passing approaches quickly, the burdon of guilt and grief builds with each passing day... which may explain to some of you why I spend so much time here. It helps me to forget, or at least to not think about me for a while and to help others, to be there for some one who needs... to be... like my dad. I miss him so much and it's hard to not feel robbed of that last little bit of time we could have had together because of his damn male pride, or his desire to spare myself and my brother the pain of knowing we were losing him but the reason doesn't change the feeling... it still hurts.
He started his life at the shore in South Jersey, as an umbrella boy at the age of 12, and ended it on the shores of Florida, just like he would have wanted... Every time I see the surf, I think of him.
So... sorry if this is korney, or inappropriate to honor him here like this but I couldn't help myself. I had to do something. I wanted to share the wonderful-ness that was my dad, and remember him, and to finally have that opportunity to shout to the world (even if it is just our small part of the world here on the net) that Eddie Mullin was here, he was loved and now he is deeply missed. I don't really care if anyone reads this... or responds... it just makes me feel better just doing it...
Thanks guys...
Ok so here goes...
My dad passed away a year ago on the 29th of January. He was 78 years old. He was a great man, a carnie to the bone, and simply Eddie to his friends.
I was born in Montreal, and an adopted child at 1 1/2 years old. I was raised in south Jersey,Wildwood (just south of Atlantic city) to be exact and my parents had games on the boardwalk my entire youth until I was about 18. I grew up on the boardwalk practically, a great childhood I wouldn't trade for anything. The Carnie call of "5 chances at the wheel for only a dollar" resonates in my ears as clearly today as it did when I was 5.
My parents divorced when I was 12, but both still had their boardwalk games, my mom had an arcade, and my dad had "the wheel". He became a weekend father and I loved the time we had together. My mother was a real hard ass and my dad the polar opposite. I remember milkshake weekends, and pizza watching old Clint and john wayne movies. Building hobby horses out of 2x4's and string mops or passing the time at the beach which was only 2 blocks away. I miss those days. My dad was my hero despite not being born of his loins.
I moved to Pennsylvania when I was 19. My dad spent his summers in south Jersey and wintered in Florida so we didn't see eachother very much at all after that but spoke every week, then every month as the trappings of life busied my time. I regret not having spent more time with him after I moved, but we always made it a point to talk with eachother and kinda of watch the westminster dog show together despite being miles apart. It was the one thing we always had together despite the distance (and the phone bills were horrendous btw before the age of unlimited calling and cell phone plans). I think it was that common interest in dogs that made my drive to want to be a Behavior specialist even stronger knowing I would be doing something with an animal we both loved. It gave us something to talk about and to bond over.
Jump forward several years... my dad was never the type to tell you there was ever anything wrong with him, but when the months would go by and he wouldn't answer the phone or be there for my calls I started to worry. I finally got a hold of him one day and he finally broke down and told me he was in the hospital with non-Hodgkin lymphoma, but in true dad form conversations ended with "but I'm doing much better now, just feeling kinda flu-ish". Every time I offered to come down to visit him, using the ruse of taking the kids to Disney world, he would tell me to save my money, the kids wern't old enough yet, they wouldn't enjoy the experience, so I did. I always listened to daddy... he was my voice of reason.
Well last year we went thru another one of those silent spells. Neither my brother or I was able to get a hold of him for like 4 months, and every time we called we'd get an operator message just saying that the call couldn't be put thru, not that the number was disconnected, nothing indicating his contact info had changed and he might have just, in his old age, forgotten to let us know. So after getting sick of not being able to get a hold of him and not knowing any of his friends in Florida I started searching the internet to see if I could find new contact information for him, what I found insted was devistating...
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sptimes/obituary-preview.aspx?page=obitfinderorder&pid=139306248
http://www.tributes.com/show/Edwin-Mullin-87839553
No one called us, no one let us know, no one had a clue he had surviving kids as he declaired himself indigent when he went into the nursing home that last 8 weeks of his life so we wouldn't be burdoned with his funeral expenses, and because of that, there was no funeral for us, no final chance to say goodbye, nothing... He'd passed 4 months before I found this information. He was already gone. He wanted to be cremated, his ashes were spred in the Gulf as he requested being the eternal beach bum he was it was a befitting end to his life BUT... now I had NOTHING of him, not his ashes, not his possessions... no closure, no ending...
Mysteriously one day about 5 months after his passing, I get a package from Florida, in writing I knew and was familliar to me... my dads... he had put together in a box his last memoires of himself and his life... some of his letterman badges from Lasalle University in Philly where he grew up, some pictures of him thru the years, a couple personal papers and a copy of his will. He knew his time was limited, he instructed one of his friends to send it upon his death (which obviously dude missed that mark a little bit as I'm sure it got lost in the shuffle of everyday chaos). He took the time to put together these treasures for me knowing I had nothing, would have nothing of him after he died... another devistating blow but a hidden treasure I guess you could say because now I had a part of him, I knew he thought of me, I knew he missed me, but most of all I knew he truly loved me.
So as the first anniversary of his passing approaches quickly, the burdon of guilt and grief builds with each passing day... which may explain to some of you why I spend so much time here. It helps me to forget, or at least to not think about me for a while and to help others, to be there for some one who needs... to be... like my dad. I miss him so much and it's hard to not feel robbed of that last little bit of time we could have had together because of his damn male pride, or his desire to spare myself and my brother the pain of knowing we were losing him but the reason doesn't change the feeling... it still hurts.
He started his life at the shore in South Jersey, as an umbrella boy at the age of 12, and ended it on the shores of Florida, just like he would have wanted... Every time I see the surf, I think of him.
So... sorry if this is korney, or inappropriate to honor him here like this but I couldn't help myself. I had to do something. I wanted to share the wonderful-ness that was my dad, and remember him, and to finally have that opportunity to shout to the world (even if it is just our small part of the world here on the net) that Eddie Mullin was here, he was loved and now he is deeply missed. I don't really care if anyone reads this... or responds... it just makes me feel better just doing it...
Thanks guys...
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