Midnight in Denver

This post was 0% written with AI, a rarity in 2025. It also contains a story of personal loss, so you may want to avoid if that triggers you.

Three hours ago, I was in sunny San Diego in what could be described as Earth's perfect microclimate (or at least one of the few Mediterranean ones in the US). As the sun warmed my face, I was enjoying a perfectly prepared cortado from Provecho (which you should visit if you're ever in the area, as they have a fantastic story that you can check out in this documentary on the SD coffee scene). I'd just visited a toy store to buy my daughter a souvenir from my work trip, and at that moment, I was reminded why life is so outstanding.

I also took a quick visit to the beach. I had just been on the beach by the Atlantic ocean a few days earlier, so I wanted to take the opportunity to have visited both coasts in the same week.

Afterward, I began my trek home from the West Coast to the East. I was already delayed. As a side note, I knew about all of this well before the airline made any announcement, thanks to Flighty (where was this when I worked for AA and flew regularly?). After spending too much time in SD, it was onward and upward (literally) to DEN.

Let God Sort Em Out

Halfway through my redeye flight back to NC, I find myself in Denver, arriving delayed and departing delayed as well. My flight isn't scheduled to leave until after midnight local time. I have plenty of time to walk around and see how nice the United terminal at DEN is (and marvel at the supreme lack of food at an airport at this hour).

Aside from my delay, the scene becomes more interesting when the airport's fire department starts a smoke test, giving the terminal a moody haze. This, by the way, adds to the Denver airport lore.

The upside to this series of events is that I'm now in the release window for Clipse's new album, Let God Sort Em Out. This album is highly anticipated, not just for rap fans but for me, especially as the amount of rap music I get to listen to gets slimmer as I spend more time entertaining my daughter. Previous Clipse albums are burned in my memory, so I can't wait to dive in. Plus, I DJed a few of their shows in my past life as a DJ, so there's an even deeper attachment.

I open Apple Music, find the album, and start the download. It finishes, I throw on my Bose QC Ultras, and then I start a slow walk down the terminal as the music starts up in my ears.

It's the perfect setting. The aforementioned smoke test has really set the mood. Every 15 minutes, the testing group moves closer to my gate area, deliberately filling it with haze before running the terminal vents to clear it. Moody vibes are running high.

Perfect, let's press play and vibe out.

The Birds Don't Sing

The first track, The Birds Don't Sing, features John Legend, and begins with striking keyboard notes. This isn't what you expect from a Clipse album intro; it's so much more moody from the get-go. ~~The backstory you learn throughout this track is wild: they lost both of their parents back-to-back, and this is the retelling of that story.

Once I'm a few bars into the song, I realize what the song is about. The Clipse, who are brothers, lost both of their parents in the same year. This song is about that experience. 1 verse from each brother for each parent. The first verse, rapped by Pusha T, is about their mother. The second, by Malice, is about their father.

I'm vibing with the song, already feeling myself getting emotional. Then, I hear a line that brings my earlier San Diego life-is-so-amazing glow to a fast tarnish:

Pusha T, rapping about his recently deceased mother: "love you met Naj, hate that he won't remember you". For essential context, Naj is Pusha's young son.

This, friends, is the part where, in the middle of the Denver airport, my eyes fill with tears, I stop my stroll, sit down, and reflect.

Because I could have written this line myself.

I bet you think this song is about you

That line reflects the last year of my life, where my father suddenly passed away. It is an extremely precarious position to be in, having this happen as a new father who's been watching the bond grow between the child and the grandparent. That's why Pusha's lyric hit me like a Mike Tyson blow to the face.

My daughter, the instant she was born, changed my father into an entirely different person. He was so goofy and happy around her, a departure from his stern, serious self, that anyone who knew him growing up would attest to.

Before her, he was a serious man. A lifelong educator, it came with the territory. But the instant his granddaughter was born, his guard was down, and he became a big softy.

I don't remember the rest of the song on the first listen because I was instantly transported to visuals burned into my mind of him making silly faces to get her to laugh as a six-month-old. Or, him showing her around the yard at my childhood home, making it as fun as he possibly could. My mother told me he used to watch videos of her on repeat, smiling away.

He only knew her for about eighteen months before he left this earth. But those months brought us a different person, someone who was full of joy and so in love with his granddaughter, which is why his sudden departure hit so hard.

Nothing can prepare you for the heartbreak the first time your child asks you, "Where's Grandpa?"

I didn't have the best answer ready, and I'm not sure if I will for a while.

Can you carry the weight?

If this were a movie, we’d flash back to a scene, one week after my father's death. I’m lying on the floor of the doctor’s office, where I just drove myself, convinced my life was ending after my heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest and the walls were closing in on me.

This was my introduction to a panic attack, something I only understood visually from movies and TV until this point, but now I was getting intimately familiar. Turns out, even though I thought I could carry the weight of everything and everyone around me, it wasn't necessarily the best thing for me, and I found out the hard way.

The days, weeks, and months that followed his death were, admittedly, some of the worst of my life. The pressures of losing a parent, still being a new parent, and working in startups introduced me to the concept of anxiety, panic attacks, and more.

I've since corrected this, but the shockwaves remain.

It's been a constant struggle to tame anxiety, but I've found the best way is to keep myself busy with work, family, and friends.

Walk by faith, not by sight

These days, my daughter only knows my father from photos. Still, I look forward to telling her about him one day.

Rest in peace, Dad. We love you, Nora loves you too, and I'll make sure she remembers you.