Today my father, Ted Garlatz, lost his battle to cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer).

He was diagnosed early last spring and was given 6-9 months if all went well, and he beat the projections by about a month. While the last bit was pretty crappy, I’m glad that he was able to find closure in many areas where he was searching before he passed. He kept beating doctors’ predictions over the last bit, and he was very proud how hard he fought (although he really didn’t laugh too much when I joked he was like a cockroach – they just can’t get rid of you! – and those who know him, he loves jokes).

Since Thanksgiving (when he was admitted into the hospital with infection and complications with cancer), I was able to make it over to Spokane four times to visit, and I could tell those visits meant the world to him. On three of the four visits, I didn’t tell him I was headed over in advance, and they completely took him by surprise and left him overjoyed – especially when I brought my kids.

On the first visit when I surprised on my own, we got to watch the last half of the Apple Cup together. That meant a ton to us both, as Husky football was a big part of our relationship. I grew up going to games with him with our season tickets starting when I was in kindergarten, and we even went to the 1991 Rose Bowl. My dad might have been ahead of the curve that last month, as he was cursing at the TV and was calling coach DeBoer a crappy worthless coach that we needed to fire despite being the Huskies being undefeated (honestly- it probably was just his pain meds as I told him he was being crazy ).

We had a complicated relationship, but I always knew that he loved me and loved my kids. He was so so so proud of everything I did and was so proud that I was an athlete and collegiate coach. He traveled to big invites in California when I was coaching up in Alaska and made friends with the kids on the team – especially those from Kenya. At times, he was kinda like a mascot. It was pretty hilarious.

These past few months have been pretty darn tough, and I’m glad that he’s no longer having to deal with the pain and suffering associated with a battle with cancer. The approaching finality of everything has helped me realize it’s important to live more in the moment, and I’m appreciative that this journey gave me that last gift.

Thank you to all of his friends who provided friendship and support over the years. Your sticking beside him meant the world to him and to me.

I don’t know exactly what we will do to celebrate his life. During the last few visits, we had some of those tough conversations about what happens next. I know he wants people to come together in a happy setting, telling PG/PG-13 stories, listening to the Rolling Stones and other good music. He wanted some time to pass from his passing so that we don’t rush things, and to allow more people the possibility of planning to attend. My best guess would be late spring/early summer in the Seattle area – perhaps the weekend of June 8th when he would be turning 70, but still lots to figure out. I will keep anyone who is interested appropriately updated.

Rest in Peace, Dad! I miss you already!

This was all too reminiscent of the passing of my longtime radio brother, Skip Tucker, a few years ago. Skip was in the hospital for something, I don’t even remember what it was, but when I reached him on the phone, he dusted it off like it was no big deal. A week later, he was gone. 

I’ve thought about how I would handle that situation if it were me and I can understand why you’d want to downplay it. You don’t want pity or to make people worry, you want privacy, etc.  I get it. But, I don’t know–if I knew the clock was running out and that I could have one more conversation with Skip or Teddy, I would have loved the opportunity. There’s something about suddenly being cut off from someone you’ve known for such a long time.

Then there’s Vic Mills.

Back when I broke away from Destination Marketing and made a big push for Tim Hunter Creative Services, I became an active member of the Bothell Kenmore Chamber of Commerce. It was on their website that a struggling writer named Vic Mills found me and reached out, saying he wanted help marketing his books. 

Vic became one of those dear characters in my life and every year, he’d get restless with how his book sales were going and ask to meet up for lunch. From those early lunches at the now-gone Steve’s Cafe on Main Street in Bothell, to our recent hangout, Jay’s Cafe on Bothell Way, we had a routine. I’d come with a list of ideas, we’d talk about what low-cost things he could do to promote his books, he’d let me know all the adventures going on in his life and we’d go our separate ways.  Vic was a Vietnam Vet whose first book, Snafu, was all about his days in the military. He had been married at one time, spent time as a Metro bus driver, but was now retired and doing everything possible to become a best-selling author. 

Let’s see, what else could I tell you about him. He was a devout Christian Scientist, but not preachy about it. He played in a band that featured songs from the 50’s, or at least he used to. And he often spoke of a woman named Marci. I kind of felt he thought the world of her, but that their relationship was just a friendship.

For all the help I offered in suggesting things to do to promote his book, all those things were, as Vic would say, “above his paygrade.” I kept telling him how easy it was to use Facebook, but he just didn’t understand it. Most of the posts on his FB page were ones I put up. I once bought him a new laptop to help keep him writing, but he never used it and gave it back. Instead, he had someone resurrect the old computer he kept using because he was comfortable with it.

I did feature him once on this podcast. That gives you a taste of his personality.

Vic wanted to tell stories. After Snafu, he wrote “Island of the Phoenix” and then, a sequel,  “Wings over Europe”, both set during World War II. There’s also a Western in there somewhere, but I’m not sure if that ever got published.

And helping him achieve those projects with editing and choosing a cover picture, his friend, Marci.

Last week, I got this email from Marci, letting me know the news:

Because of your support of Vic Mills’ Facebook page, you may already be aware that Vic passed away in his sleep last week.  Vic loved his contact with you, your humor, and the wonderful encouragement and ideas you gave him for promoting his books.

I’m happy that he passed in his sleep. He was probably getting close to reaching out to me again for that annual lunch. His service is this Saturday, right before the service of one of my old neighbors. Yeah, thanks a lot, 2024.

I have to say my Saturdays aren’t filling up the way I’d like them to be.

Tim Hunter