Dear Kevin Smith

Dear Kev,

My father died 12 days ago. He fought a short, painful, and commendable battle against pancreatic cancer.

Brutal opener, I know, but sadly it is the truth as is the rest of this rambling correspondence. Do not fret: I am not looking for sympathy, swag, or funds. I, nay, we wanted to express our gratitude to you.

You see, Dad passed while sitting upon the porcelain throne. Strange as it sounds, my two siblings and I were there with him because he didn't have the strength to move let alone hold himself up. He leaned his head against my brother as my sister and I braced his shoulders all while a hospice social worker was performing an in-home evaluation. It must have looked ridiculous to her but none of us cared. Dad felt like he needed to take a shit and we were facilitating that as best we could.

"Sonny boy, you've got a heart of gold" he said, "you think you could get me a magazine? One with the big titties" and we all cracked up laughing. The social worker clearly didn't get the Clerks reference. And then seconds later he went limp and stopped breathing.

Everything is a little blurry after that.

So Kev, thanks for inspiring Dad and his 3 Gen X kids one last laugh together. It's a moment we will all hold as a reminder of the absolute absurdity of death.

Wishing you and your family a happy thanksgiving,

Heather Smith (no relation but we know Smiths rock)