(written july 20th, 2025)
(Theres a lot I feel pulled to write in relation to my Dad. That his health is declining rapidly is rattling a lot of sentimental trinkets and coins, within the laundry machine of my heart and mind…His voice in my head I rely heavily on… for a stubborn moral grace on how I entitle myself to my passions, desires, and the smile on my face.)

(update: My Dad passed away July 26th around 11pm at home surrounded by his loved ones.)

My Dad, Tom Sinnott, is an aerobatics pilot. He took me up in the sky with him from the moment I could walk. We lived in this wonderful unique little “aero-community” in Brookridge, Illinois. I wasn’t really aware just how unique it was, til we moved away, when I was 12. Off to Canada, we went. But wait, back to my Dad. He managed creative people, had his own company directing commercials. He was an epic pilot. He had a plane stolen from our property… He built a plane himself. He had to sell it in parts. He worked on movies. He has the kindest eyes. He’s my Dad… he’s the best in the industry of fathers… -_- they don’t make em like Tom Sinnott anymore. RARRRRR!!!!!!!!!

He raised a daughter like me because I always just knew, there was never a doubt in his mind- There was never a doubt in my mind, that there was a doubt in his mind… about me… about what I could do, who I could be. He challenged my intelligence, with serious respect, from the beginning. He took me camping. He told me and all my girlfriends scary stories, at my slumber parties. He did voice overs. He was so proud of me, when I scored my first BMW commercial, for voice acting… ( I’m crying while I write this :) It’s okay. )

When I was in my last year of highschool, living in San Diego, we went gliding together regularly, and I was enroute to getting my glider’s license with him. We could do it effectively, because it was only a 40 minute drive to this border by Mexico, in Jacumba, CA… We didn’t have to pay for a tow-plane which is costly for all the gas, and the piloting, etc. They use a “winch” and it sort of kites the glider plane up via a motorized pulley system machine. I think about how my mom didn’t particularly like that I was doing this with my Dad at all, but she couldn’t stop us. We were literally flying through the sky… on warm upward wind spirals… no engine, just the conversation with the winds…. the cloud patterns… You just have these foot pedals, and a stick. It’s really… quite epic.

My Dad is a sci-fi stars wars, fantasy novel, kind of guy. He really appreciates the art form of storytelling, and really passed on that taste to me. Of course, he’s been totally supportive that I’m a writer, and knows a great one at that, with a lot to say in just the right way. We’ll speak in metaphors to each other, and someone listening will have no idea what we’re really talking about. We both enjoy animation, regardless of the intended age group, so long as it’s done well, and the story telling is top. We saw the latest Pixar film, and I fear it was our last. I thought so poetic for us, Elio. But, if I were to critique it, it was a little bit too fast.

My dad is also known to keep a bad movie on that he doesn’t like, just to keep critiquing it and review the terrible ending. He’s stubborn and hard to help. I think unfortunately, my love language being something along the lines of not having to ask because you noticed… is inherited from my Dad. Ha. That there is just some strange stoicism related to figuring it all out yourself and not needing to burden someone else with asking… this isn’t particularly practical, and especially challenging in the predicament that your family is trying to support you through the most important transition of life, ~ Death.

I feel so awkward wanting a photo with my Dad right now, (like what is that a souvenir?,) while he is on his last time fibers of this life. Y’know, of course he doesn’t look like himself. (update; I did get that photo…) I want to preach to him, how I know wherever he’s going, he’s also still here with me, that this is how it works- energy splits so interdimensionally. He is within me, so no matter what, he is here. His voice in my head. Wherever he goes next, I’m certain it’s better than all this- his spirit, his soul is so big, so stuffed with this uplifting, wise, sturdy, love… he’s so accepting of who you are, he’s just so present to what is… naturally, I don’t know how to describe it any better. Maybe I will preach to him… haha, why not!! I think to myself I’d rather my kid preach to me than someone else, perhaps. Maybe, I’ll say, Dad, you get to choose, full heartedly, wherever your observation wants to be. You’re going to be blanketed, cloaked, but like white rainbow light of a whole spectrum filtering through you, full intelligence of all knowingness, embodying you, in total bliss of respect to what you’ve completed here, in this life closing, and that I think it’s worthwhile to have a creative intention going through this light, with questions and answers, to calibrate to new angles for where you may explore next. It can all be so far out of our fathomings, which is the fun of it all. I believe it will still be familiar to you, Dad, that it won’t feel foreign, or unknown. You’ll do your inbetween motions like you always do. You’ll order your usual. You’ll gaze out across galaxies, puddles of energies, and you’ll decide. However you wish to explore energy next or a reality perhaps. Engineering behind the scenes, or some live action flavor of experience~ You’ll do how is best, for all you know, that you’ll also get your well deserved peace and rest. You’ll enjoy this more than you can possibly expect, and you’ll still be here with us, too. That’s the beauty of being a silly little human creature just for now, woo! We’re so much more… than we know… forever and then some… DAD! I love you, and I miss you already, right now. I wish dying was more like just taking a bow. Round of applause. See you later in some other form, some other way, the magic trick of knowing, sparkle in our eyes, that faith.

I mean that I miss that I can’t go scuba diving with you right now. I know you loved to do that so much. We didn’t get to indulge that as much as so many other activities…. BUT DAMN AM I SO GRATEFUL that we got to indulge the prana dynamics, the tai chi, the saying grace at dinner, the value of peace and harmony. I am so grateful for my Dad. I am so mad that I am losing him so young. I am so open to a miracle dropping from the sky, and he doesn’t die, and this is just a mess of emotion for no reason, but of course not, there’s always a reason,~ sugar, spice and seasoning… because we’re the observers, and the chefs to all this meaning, all these flavors… of The Life, and The Death.

…. WELL! Personally, I would want nothing less.

We knead, weave, and dream… pressing it all into bigger purpose… a legacy of destiny… every family, every individual, threads in the tapestry… sewing down time with needle and thread, your brain like a thimble… hmmm.. I wrote a poem about this long ago, it’s coming to mind. I’m feeling too lazy to retrieve it though. Still, I sew.

p.s

I think mainstream humanity should have more advanced rituals, relations, and respects around death… by now… it seems it is still… something we find easier to reject.

It always comes down to, the energy bandwidth, the emotional processing…. I suspect.

Ughhh.
I’d play rummikub with you every evening, Dad, forever.
He taught me poker.

“Queen of Hearts… no apparent help,” He’d say, dealing out the black jack cards.

I say to myself, this is really hard,

and that’s okay, that it would be really fucked up, frankly, if it was easy… If this was easy, I don’t know how I’d understand myself. I’m angry. That the whole species acts so unprepared for this, when it happens to every single one of us, over and over, like why does it have to be so repulsing or isolating to shoulder.