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	In Pro Per: A Final Round of Golf General Legal  California Lawyer Magazine September 2005 By Gene A. Weisberg For some, golf is a career. For others, it is a pleasant, if sometimes irritating, diversion. For my father, being on a golf course took him away from the pressures of business. It provided wonderful recreation in his retirement. And it allowed him to die peacefully. My father, Ben Weisberg, died after a lengthy battle with cancer. His last night was especially difficult. Between the pain and the painkillers, he only occasionally was aware of what was going on around him. But he knew his life was soon ending, and he was very distressed about it. He kept fighting, but that only made him more unsettled and agitated. That is when golf stepped in to put his mind at ease and allowed him to let go. He didn't begin playing golf until he was almost 40. He played every Wednesday afternoon. His swing was not very good - he had a habit of falling back on his shots. On a good day, he might break 100. He soon began taking me out to our local course in Rockland County, New York. He might have enjoyed taking me because, at least in the beginning, I was even worse than he was - or, more likely, because it was a wonderful place for a father and son to spend four or five hours together, talking in ways we usually didn't. I grew up, went away to college, and moved to California to go to law school and then practice law. A few years later my father sold his business and with my mother moved out here. He joined Braemar Country Club in Tarzana, playing at least three days a week. He even took an occasional lesson. Shortly after he retired he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. After a fairly difficult first year, he regained most of his strength and began playing golf regularly agaiin. As he lay in his hospital bed on the last night of his life, five year after his diagnosis, my mother and I by his side, nothing seemed to calm him. He had been given enough painkillers to knock out a horse. He could not have weighed more than 110 pounds. But he refused to let go. He seemed not to know how. As I sat watching him suffer more than anyone should ever have to suffer, it occured to me that the one place he was always able to relax was the place he should be. So I took him there. I told him to put his mind at Braemar, to look ahead and envision the first tee on the west course. When I asked him what he saw, he said he saw the wall of the room. Clearly, this was going to take some persuasion. I described the scene. We were at the first tee. The group ahead had hit their second shots, and it was time for us to hit. I told him to look around and enjoy the scenery - the green hills overlooking the San Fernando Valley, the mountains in the distance. He started to calm down. I could tell he was taking his mind there. I described his first shot, a straight drive about 175 yards down the center of the fairway. The ball was at the crest of the hill, in perfect position for his approach to the green. We went to his ball, enjoying the scenery as we walked. He was getting calmer. His second shot put him on the green, about 25 feet from the pin. Two putts, and he had started the round with a par. We went to the next hole. Although I played Braemar with him as often as I could, I didn't know the course well. So I started making up the holes. it didn't seem to matter. He was getting tired. His breathing became easier. The medication was beginning to take effect. My mother was also beginning to relax as she saw her husband's discomfort ease. I described a par five. He hit the usual drive, which left a long second shot. I told him I was taking out his three iron for him to lay up. He looked distressed. I thought that maybe this diversion was no longer working. He said, "No." "Why, is something wrong?" I asked. "I want the three wood," he answered. He was right. That was clearly the better club for that shot. He hit it well and finished out the hole with another par, barely missing his birdie putt. I described a few more holes, and the scenery in that pretty setting, until he became too tired to continue. His mind had taken him away from the pain and the fear of the unknown. He relaxed and was able to fall asleep. He never woke up. Golf had allowed him to die in peace. Back
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