Joseph A. Pinto

barflypoet & author of dark fiction

I had no outlet for my grief after my father passed. All I knew was that I needed to honor his fight, his bravery, in some endearing fashion. I could not bear the thought that after everything he had gone through battling pancreatic cancer, then suddenly that was it. To believe his life ended that …

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It was a gut-wrenching decision for me to make. My good friend Chris listened patiently on the phone; I had called him when my father was released from the hospital and into hospice. For some time I’d been agonizing over writing a eulogy for my father. The thought of it haunted me every day. I …

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My dad loved the ocean. I think it was one of the few things, if not the only thing, that brought him true peace. He used to be an avid scuba diver and explored many of the shipwrecks littering the bottom of the sea around New Jersey and New York. He gave up his flippers, …

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At first, the chemo worked. At least it seemed to work. We didn’t know what to expect. My dad was holding up pretty well. His spirits were high, and his attitude belied the fact he was a sick man. “When you see me panic, then you know it’s time for you to panic,” he once …

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The worry was obvious in my mother’s voice but there was something else, too, something I didn’t care for one bit. “They’ve found tumors all through your father’s liver,” she told me over the phone. The defeat in her tone was thick. I refused to acknowledge it. Even without knowing exactly what was going on …

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“Christ, you look like shit.” Those were my exact words over seven years ago when my dad arrived early on a Sunday morning to help renovate my basement. And he really did look like shit. His face was white as a ghost. “I’m fine,” my dad replied, “just must’ve eaten something funny last night.” If …

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