Sunday was an open day with no real plans. My fever was subsiding as were my aches and pains but my stomach pains were sticking around.
We ended up fulfilling my mother’s lifelong dream of eating at FatBurger. She had seen FatBurger on another visit and thought it was the funniest thing – and tucked away a mental note that it would be even funnier to eat there one day.
Afterwards we strolled off the fat (or chewed it, rather) at the Los Angeles National Cemetary. From there we headed to Palisades Park.
At both places I requested to hear stories about my parents’ past and I was not disappointed. My fathers story of struggles from 82-84 kind of makes me seem ungrateful to even complain about anything at all in my life. As we were leaving Palisades my mother got a cell phone notification from Delta that their flight had been pushed back another two hours to 12:40am. After Palisades we went to 3rd street for some Jamba Juice. On the sidewalk we walked right past (literally could have bumped elbows if we wanted to) with Gene Simmons and his progeny.
This is the same shirt he had on, I swear… wore the same scowl too…
He didn’t look happy at all – but I guess that is just how his face looks naturally. I tried to quietly point him out to my father, but it happened so quick and there were so many people that he ended up missing it. Still no celebrity sighting for my parents! Ironic too as earlier at Palisades Park my father had asked “so where do all these celebrities hang out?” We left the Promenade and headed south on city streets until I recognized our surroundings and took my parents on a short tour of the Venice canal.
I think they were zombies by then though, it had been a long day and it was already midnight in the east by the time we started walking. It was off to the airport and quick goodbye. I didn’t really say what I meant to, but I was at least able to say this time that I would miss them as soon as they were gone.
And I do miss them, immensely. When I’ve gone through rough patches in my adult life there were many people who offered their support – but at the end of the day (or month or year) I know my parents are homies who got my back through thick and thin no matter what, yo. I think I spent my whole youth running away from them, but now feel immense guilt for only being able to see them a few times a year. Funny how things change when you get older. You start contributing to your 401k, eating vegetables and missing your family.
