Although Senator Wellstone perished in a plane accident before seeing a parity law come to fruition, his legacy lives on in the statute Congress finally passed that makes it illegal to financially discriminate against those with mental health needs. I and I’m sure thousands of others are forever in his debt—and all the others who used their power for good. Our health care system is constantly under attack by special interest groups and forces trying to turn back the clock on many of these rights, which is why it’s so important to support nonprofits and find ways to get involved.
We can’t stop fighting for those rights because people need mental health insurance as much as they need insurance for the removal of a cancerous tumor. Both are dire circumstances, and if left unattended they can kill you . . . and far too often do.
Chapter Twelve
Tears in Heaven
When I was growing up, my father always said, “Lo que pasara pasara,” which means, “What will happen will happen.” You can’t fight the course of life, you can only accept that there will be both good and bad things that come your way. H.J. had grown up knowing that, but I had resisted, I was full of fight. I didn’t understand why bad things had to happen, and often railed against the inevitability facing me.
I had already lost Jeff and Carol too young. In 2007, another friend, Ray, died at the age of fifty.
He was another person I didn’t get to say goodbye to, another soul who died too young, and it was hard to believe one day he was there, and the next he wasn’t. I kept thinking I would see him drive up to the house or hear that great laugh of his, but he left another very big, very loud silence behind in my world. Paula was also devastated, and neither of us could fight the tears at his funeral. I was reeling because the deaths of three people so close in my orbit put me in a dark place. I couldn’t shake it. Paula had just the right medicine in mind—she decided I needed a dog.
Paula knew how healing animals can be for the spirit because they are the purest spirits of all. I had always wanted an Akita, so that’s exactly what Paula found for me. When we picked the puppy up, I remember this little fluffy black-and-white face that looked like a tiny bear peeking out at me from his carrier, and that was it, I was his.
It took a year and a half for Cain to figure out I was the leader and to do what I said, but even after that he was still a handful. He attacked dogs all the time, and whenever I scolded him, he looked at me with big sorry eyes like it was something wild inside him he couldn’t control. That’s probably why I bonded with him—I knew all too well that wild uncontrollable part of me inside somewhere that can unleash itself at any time.
I took him everywhere with me and we went on long walks every day. He even came with me on The View one time in Los Angeles and they all loved him. Martin Lawrence wanted one like him and called to ask me where I got him. He was so stunning, people actually stopped in their cars to take pictures, and whenever I took him in the car with me, people also not only stopped and stared but gave me crazy looks. At first I didn’t understand the freaked-out, scared expressions on their faces, but the mystery was finally solved one day when I glanced in the rearview. Cain always sat in the back with his head hanging out; however, it looked like a real bear was in the car, because the wind had blown all his hair back.
Cain had a beautiful soul. He knew I was hurting and he comforted me and knew when others needed comfort, too. One time I was walking with Cain and my mom and dad in L.A. and a homeless guy came up yelling crazy things at my mom and screaming that he wasn’t afraid of my dog. We stopped because I wanted to see what his story was and if he needed any help. I was holding Cain’s leash tight; but Cain didn’t bark, he didn’t do anything, even when the guy brought his fist up just shy of Cain’s mouth. Cain didn’t attack him, it was like he knew the guy was just in trouble and probably needed medication. Paula had been right to insist I get a dog.
My spirits had been bolstered by Cain’s arrival in my life, and it was an honor to receive a PRISM Award for my portrayal of Sonny’s bipolar condition. The PRISM Awards recognize the accurate depiction of drug, alcohol, and tobacco use and addiction in film, television, interactive, music, DVD, and comic book entertainment. The ceremony was broadcast from the Beverly Hills Hotel on national television and once again I was humbled to accept an award for and grateful to use my art for worthy education about bipolar disease.
But regardless of the positive interlude, if I thought the rough patch had been bad, I had no idea it was going to get much rougher.
One day in the winter I came home to find Paula on the phone, her face drawn, and tears just started pouring out of her. I thought, She’s always the rock, the strong one, it must be bad if she’s so upset.
A friend of Paula’s mother’s had called to break the sad news to her that Paula’s mom had suddenly passed away. We never saw her mother outside of her house and I only went with Paula once a year, if that. But Paula never stopped loving her mother deeply; she still longed for peace to be a part of her mother’s life and I know she suffered watching her mom destroy her life with drugs. Paula got to a better place with her mother when the hard drugs faded away, at least enough for Paula to feel like she could be in her mom’s life again.
Paula went to her mom’s more often after she’d stopped the heavy drugs, to help out with food, cleaning, and picking up the kids to bring them to our house, and later we bought her mom a house in Anza, California, outside Temecula, where she and Paula’s adopted sister, Heather, could live. I even ended up getting along with Jean because she had the best sense of humor; she was a really funny person. The tragedy is that even though she tried to turn her life around, she died relatively young—she was only sixty years old. Hard drugs had been her problem when Paula was a kid, but in the end, pills did her in. Paula fought her whole life to have a good, loving relationship with her mother and never really got it; it was always full of pain.
After all that pain and heartache and trying to have a real relationship with her mother, now her mother was gone and had left with no warning. It was so sudden that Paula didn’t get to prepare for that loss or say goodbye, and I understood that emptiness and pain. But although Paula was suffering a great deal, her first thought was Heather.
Heather was only fourteen and, like Paula, Heather didn’t know her dad and had grown up watching her mother use drugs. To complicate matters, because Paula’s mother had adopted Heather from the state, her death meant that Heather immediately became a ward of the state. We would cross that bridge sooner than later, but first Paula had to tell Heather the devastating news. When she met Heather at her school, Paula gently told her that their mom had passed away, and they hugged each other and cried.
I never dreamed we would have another child, but fate had thrown us a twist and we knew we had to adopt Heather. We loved her, and she had nowhere else to go. At the time, Heather was on a treacherous path, and I remember sitting with her one day and sharing some of my own bad choices and telling her she had two choices: the path she was going down, which was bumpy and difficult, and another road, in which she’d have everything she needed.
We knew it was important to let Heather choose, and she decided she wanted us to adopt her. Because Heather was a ward of the state, we had to petition the government, a complicated matter requiring a lawyer to guide the voluminous paperwork through the courts for a year as her case slowly wound its way through the system. But all good things are worth waiting for, and Heather legally became our daughter on April 20, 2009.
One of the most beautiful moments I remember is the day I saw Heather sitting with Paula on the bed, deep in conversation, and I heard Heather ask if it was okay for her to call Paula Mom. One day not long after that she just started calling me Dad, just as naturally as breathing.
While it was a beautiful time, it was also scary when she started hanging out with the wrong people. Heather had seen and gone through a great deal, so, while it took some persuasion, she listened to my urging to begin therapy. I’m so pr
oud that she had the courage to do that, because it allowed her to straighten out her life.
Again, my life on the show mirrored my personal life when in June 2009 Sonny suddenly also had a grown child, but his was one he had never known about. When he left Bensonhurst for Port Charles and a life in the mob, Sonny also left Olivia Falconeri (played by the great and hilarious Lisa LoCicero) behind; he just didn’t know that he had also left a child growing in her womb. I think Olivia is probably the one who made the most sense for Sonny to be with—typical Italian mother—but it wouldn’t have been as much fun for the audience as the popular Sonny/Carly/Brenda love triangle.
That’s when Dominic Zamprogna came to General Hospital to be Sonny’s son, Dante, and that entire story line is still one of my favorites. Dominic is a great, solid actor and there were so many layers to that story line. After Dante became Sonny’s right-hand guy, Sonny found out he was an undercover police officer there not to become Sonny’s successor but to put him in jail for the murder of Claudia Zakara. The fans were thrilled when Sarah Brown returned to play the role of Claudia, and it was so interesting for me to play against her in a completely different role, one that was out to get Sonny. The crowning sequence to the undercover story took place during baby Josslyn Jacks’s christening—intercutting back and forth between the church and Sonny and Dante’s heated confrontation about Dante’s ultimate betrayal of Sonny. As an Italian song played over both a peaceful and violent mash-up of scenes, Sonny shoots Dante point-blank, only to find out when Olivia rushes in that he has just put a bullet in his own son.
Ingo Rademacher plays Jax, who is father to Josslyn, and is also a dynamic part of the other popular Carly/Sonny/Jax love triangle. He is very tall and handsome, with blue eyes and flawless hair—perfect for the role of Jax, the international financier. When Ingo first came on the show, I was very competitive, but he was the perfect nemesis: the bad boy against the prince. Although we’re usually mad at each other in scenes, off-camera we joke around a lot.
The one thing Sonny and Jax agree on is protecting and making sure Josslyn, who has lived in Sonny’s house, has a good life. Even though he’s not her father, Sonny has built a paternal relationship with her. Eden McCoy, who plays Josslyn, is just a pleasure to be around, although her character had already suffered tragic losses at a young age. Those scenes as Sonny guides Josslyn through her grief have been really emotionally charged, and I’m always thinking about my own girls in those moments.
At home, all my kids were in store for another change, and it was life-altering. Paula was very distraught after her mom passed away, and so was her brother, John, who felt terrible guilt that he wasn’t there. There was so much left unresolved from their childhoods and I know Paula was struggling with all that, so when she came to me one day and asked if I thought it would be a good idea to move out of Los Angeles, I was all in. We moved to Temecula, a somewhat small town we visited near where her mother had last resided with Heather. Paula found a house high on a hilltop with a beautiful view that seemed to stretch out forever, and I always put my chair out at the edge of the property to meditate surrounded by the gorgeous expanse. The Spanish-style house was built around a huge outside courtyard, and the kids had their own separate wing. There had been no funeral for Paula’s mother but when we arrived at the new house, Paula planted lantana flowers—her mother’s favorite—in her mom’s memory on the hillside, and when they bloomed, Paula took her mother’s ashes and spread them among the flowers Jean loved so much.
It was so beautiful and peaceful at our new haven in Temecula that I didn’t even mind the commute to Los Angeles. I didn’t have a cell phone because I had resisted being tied to one with all my might, but that changed one night when the drive got to me and I actually fell asleep at the wheel. I remember my car hitting something and jolting awake to see that I had run into the side rail. That was another miracle in my life and I thank God my car sustained only minor damage and neither myself nor anyone else was injured. From that day on, Paula made me promise never to drive when I was tired again, even slightly tired. She also went right out and purchased a cell phone for me, so for all my Twitter and Instagram fans, you owe my wife a huge thanks. I probably never would have had my own phone if Paula hadn’t insisted.
Paula negotiated a more flexible schedule for me, one where I’d shoot my scenes in three or four days instead of five, so I’d stay in L.A. while shooting them. Tony Geary told me about a friend who was renting a great apartment in L.A., so I checked it out. The place was huge, which was great for Cain and all my brood when the family came to stay in L.A. for events, so I leased the apartment to stay in during the week and I’ve been commuting this way ever since.
Paula’s brother was also still going through a hard time after his mom’s death, and Paula wanted him to come to stay with us in Temecula, so John moved there to look after our land and the house. I think Paula will always feel responsible for the tough childhood they had and will always want to protect him.
Although we had moved and started fresh, for all the losses we had endured in such a short time, the worst was yet to come for me. June 18, 2009, I suffered a blow I thought I would never get over, and it’s a loss I still feel every single day. One day after buying fresh honey from a guy on the street in Temecula, I walked into the house and when I saw Paula’s face I knew something bad had happened.
“Honey, sit down,” she said quietly.
“I don’t want to sit down, just tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
“Manny’s dead,” she gently told me.
I was so angry I couldn’t even cry. “What do you mean? How?” I asked.
“He was murdered,” Paula said softly, knowing the words were like daggers.
“Fuck!” I yelled.
“He was stabbed eighteen times by a jealous husband,” Paula continued slowly.
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” I raged. I hadn’t talked to Manny for a few weeks because I’d been doing a movie. At the time, he had been in an institution for depression; however, I didn’t know that until after he passed, because he didn’t want to worry me while I was working—dear, sweet Manny was always concerned about everyone, to the very end.
At Jeff’s funeral Manny and I had made a pact.
“When I die, don’t have a funeral for me, and I won’t come to yours,” Manny said.
“I promise,” I agreed.
However, Manny’s brother, understandably, planned a service, so I talked to his brother and related what Manny had told me after Jeff’s funeral, and his brother listened quietly and nodded. He respected our promise to each other and I didn’t attend.
Four friends had died pretty much in a row during the past several years and each of them was too young, for each the death was unexpected, and I didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them. I started telling people, “Don’t get close to me or you’ll die.” I was aching inside and I threw myself into work, as I always do when I’m depressed. Donna, of course, tried to keep me focused at work, but the weight of all the losses seemed too heavy to handle and I was struggling. To try to get past that seemingly insurmountable roadblock I turned once again to the tool that I had turned to my whole life, and therapy helped me navigate that dark time.
That year, Bridge for a Brighter Tomorrow gave me an award for raising awareness and fighting the stigma of mental health issues, but I didn’t see how tomorrow could be bright, because my guts had been torn out and everything reminded me of the friends I had lost. Although I loved them all, Manny’s death hit me the hardest, and after he was gone I picked up the phone ten times a day to call him, then realized he wasn’t going to answer. I couldn’t accept that he had been taken so violently or that I hadn’t been there to protect him like he had always protected me.
Although I didn’t cry for anyone at first, the tears eventually come. Out of nowhere, you’re hit with a flood of emotions you can’t repress, and one day after Manny died, I was running and they hit me like a train coming a
t full speed, flattening me. I started sobbing and running faster and faster, as if I could outrun the sadness. I of course couldn’t, but I ran for several miles until I couldn’t run anymore, and even then the tears still flowed. They tell you time heals the sorrow and I prayed for time to pass quickly, but a year went by with every moment as jagged as the one before. Even now, all these years later, it’s still a tender wound.
Paula’s fortieth birthday also arrived in September after we moved and I knew it was one of those birthdays that hits you more than others, making you think about life, and would take on even more weight now that her mother was no longer around and Paula was still hurting. So I decided it was time for another big surprise. Just as Paula knew I needed animals to help me heal during my grief, I thought it was time to give her a horse that she could get on and ride as fast and as far as she wanted and forget about the world in her happy place.
On Paula’s birthday morning, I told her we were going to ride horses. But what I didn’t tell her was that I had already bought one for her. It was a beautiful day and as we pulled into a horse ranch in Temecula, she immediately exclaimed how beautiful the paint horse was that was running around the ring. I think the owners were onto the fact that I didn’t know anything about horses and had charged me thousands more than the horse was worth, but it was worth it to see her face light up the moment I told her she wasn’t just riding the paint horse that day, she was the new owner. It was so good to see her smile after all that she had been through.
When she inquired about the horse’s name, the ranch owner told us it was Bubba, and Paula and I looked at each other in surprise—our pet name for each other, the one we had inscribed years before on our matching tattoos! If that wasn’t enough, when she got up close to Bubba, she saw that he had a tiny heart birthmark and knew why it was meant to be.
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