Bill Zuckert
15 December 1915-23 January 1997
30 January
Well, darlings, I'm back.
On Friday the 17th I was at work and my mom called me and said that my father had been taken into ICU. Then a couple of hours later she called and said that he had double pneumonia and was in a coma and they recommended not putting him on a respirator. I was at the reception desk and just burst into tears right in front of everyone. They all said "go home, go home", but I wouldn't. Go home and do what? Fall apart? Fuck that. I stayed and made phone calls, arranging to have Geoffrey Tangeman come in and take over the show that I'm directing, and called all of the actors.
Thomas Cote had told me just two days before that his mother had died in November and I had told him at the time that my father was sick. When I called Thomas, he called me right back, and it was as though I had been surrounded by foreigners, and was finally speaking to someone from my country, because he knew what I was talking about. Everyone else was so useless and floppy and Thomas was really right there. I will always love him just because of that phone call.
Poor Angie, who sits next to me, managed to somehow not hear about it, even with my very public breakdown and everything, and she kept saying the most hideous things without meaning to.. I was on the phone with my Mom, and she put the phone up to Daddy's ear and I said "Hi, Daddy, I love you, I'll be home soon", and when I hung up, Angie said "Well, I can sure tell you're Daddy's girl" and "Are you going home for vacation?" and stuff like that, and I just couldn't say to her "Shut up, he's dying", but it was like she was sticking knives into me and she just wouldn't stop.
I had a five hour rehearsal that night and I blocked the end of Perp and Flying Blind and ratcheted Vicki into the hysterics that she needs to be in for Speed Trap, and I was really glad that I didn't miss it, because it was like a five hour aerobics workout, and I really felt as though I was accomplishing something.
The next day, Saturday, I went to LA. First, though, I had another rehearsal and talked to Geoffrey, and I kept saying things like "Make sure Thomas gets a haircut" and "Don't let Scott put his hands in his pockets" and I only realized later that what I really was saying was "Please take care of my show. Don't let me down."
So I went to Kennedy, and, due to traffic, arrived at 5.45p for a 6p flight, and they said that the plane had already left the gate. I burst into tears and they put me on a 7.50p flight with a stop in St. Louis. And when I was on that plane, about 10 people got on at 7.55p, which was completely unfair. In St. Louis they almost didn't let me on the plane because they said that my ticket wasn't a ticket.
Midwestern hospitality my ass.
Sunday, Mom and I went to the hospital. Daddy's eyes were open and I thought he was going to be able to speak, but he couldn't. He looked right at me and he didn't recognize me and he kept writhing around. Then he looked at me and saw me, but then he didn't again. Mom thought that his eyes being open meant that he was going to get better, but I knew that he was going to die. And it was so terrible to see him look so confused and in pain that I was in the horrible position of wishing that he would die. I had to keep running into the bathroom to cry. We stayed for three hours, and it was a nightmare. I felt as though the world had gone mad.
On Monday, he was the same, but he wasn't thrashing as randomly. Mom decided to have the house cleaned, and we had to clean the house to get ready for the cleaners. The house for Mom was like the show for me; something to concentrate really hard on.
Tuesday, we were on our way to the hospital, and Mom's beeper went off. We both tensed up and started crying and prepared ourselves that he would be dead. We walked into the ICU, and he was not only not dead, he was better! He was awake and alert and knew who I was and kissed me and was talking and laughing, and it was so wonderful and a miracle and we were so happy. Of course, we still knew that he had cancer and all, but we thought that it would be a good long while before he died and we'd be able to be together until then.
Wednesday, we went to the hospital all excited, and he was worse again. It was awful. He was still talking, but it wasn't to us, and it was without voice, but once I saw him say "I want to get out of here". We cleaned the house until we were blue in the face, and Mom kept flying off the handle and during dinner my crown came out while I was eating cauliflower.
On Thursday, 23rd January, the cleaners came and spruced up the place and Mom went on a commercial audition, so we were kind of late getting to the hospital. We arrived, and he was very still and was completely unresponsive, and we were talking to him and talking to him,and then I went off to the bathroom, and I came back and walked into the room and he suddenly squeezed his eyes shut and started choking and then he stopped breathing and he breathed about once a minute or so, and then he stopped. He died at 5.45p and I said to Mom that he went to heaven to be with his father and mother and sisters and his ex-wife, which made her laugh.
In the days following, we got millions of phone calls and cards and flowers and it was so wonderful knowing how loved he was.
On Tuesday, the date for the memorial was set for 23 February, so I decided to come back to New York for the tech for my show (tonight) and the opening on Friday.
My father will never walk me down the aisle when I marry.
He'll never be the grandfather to my children.
I won't have my Daddy anymore.
And my heart is broken.
The first Christmas picture, 1965,
and the last Christmas picture, 1996.
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Last Updated Wed 19 August 20:48:09 1998