The morning that I found out that Dad had passed away, I drove over to his house. I knew the process of sorting through his possessions could not wait at all, it had to be done that day.

One of Dad’s neighbours, Jackie, had called to let me know that Dad had passed and that his house had already been robbed. She was distraught. Wailing over the phone, coughing the details out between cascades of sobs. Poor lady, they were so close and now she was stuck living there on her own. She was probably the closest friend that my dad ever had. They would spend hours at each other's house everyday drinking coffee and making art together. Dad of course was her dealer.