The next morning, though, we had a real y bad fight. I honestly don't even remember what it was about, but it was a doozy. Matt said, "I can't take this anymore. It's over. I'm going back to LA and moving my stuff out for good."

I was sobbing hysterical y, and I had a show to do that night, so I couldn't fol ow him. One of the crew saw Matt get on the shuttle for the airport, and I made some excuse for him. The crew stil knew nothing.

Thankful y I had a couple of nice gays with me and they both said, "Kathy, you've got a show tonight. Focus on that. Matt's not coming back today. We'l stay with you one more night and fly home with you tomorrow."

They kept me company, and it was real y wonderful and comforting.

When I got back to LA, Matt already had been there with his sister and her boyfriend and they had taken al of his stuff. Matt and I made an appointment to get together and talk that night. We sat down and I was hysterical y crying and despondent, and he said something at that moment that was in retrospect probably the kindest thing he could have done.

"Kathy, it's not going to work," he said. "Stop trying to make it work. I don't love you anymore."

"I want to try again!" I said, rattling off al manner of ideas I had for trying to prop this thing up one more time.

"We've tried everything," he said. "It's real y, real y over."

When he walked out the door, I just fel apart. But it's what I had to hear. I needed him to sit me down and say in no uncertain terms that it was done, and that he didn't want me to try anymore. He hadn't wanted to try for a while. "Now it's just ridiculous," he'd said. "You're trying to force something."

He was right. One of my worst character flaws is that it takes me too long to "get" things. I have to be hit over the head with a sledge-hammer.

It is this very quality of never accepting defeat, going against the odds and not always listening to reason that while serving me so wel in my career, has screwed me over in my love life.

I was stil a wreck when later that night I asked a friend to come over for support. He helped me out in a great way by saying, "Okay, you've got to cut Matt off entirely now. You have to act like Matt is not reachable." That's because even through our separations, I'd cal him if I missed him, or he'd cal me if he missed me, or if I'd forgotten where I put something in the house I'd contact him. Al those little bits of knowledge that I'd counted on him for-facts about meetings I'd had, who worked where, who said what when, computer know-how, the way something operated-I was suddenly worried about. My friend said, "There's nothing we can't figure out ourselves."

That talk with my friend was very liberating. Because I would never see Matt again. Our divorce was finalized in May 2006. I had begun the process of moving on.

Looking back at it al , I real y had been a complete p.u.s.s.y about realizing it was over, even though in the back of my mind the trust that should exist between a married couple was 100 percent shot. I wish I had one of those Stella Got Her Groove Back Stella Got Her Groove Back moments where I turned to him and said, "Get out!" But in the end it was Matt who had to hit me over the head with the fact that we were through. moments where I turned to him and said, "Get out!" But in the end it was Matt who had to hit me over the head with the fact that we were through.

It was an equal y hard decision to appear on Larry King Live Larry King Live and go public with the details of our breakup. I don't know if that was the right thing to do then, but my ego just couldn't take the speculative chatter-in the public and even from friends-that somehow the old battle-ax nightmare Kathy Griffin ran her poor, sweet husband into the ground until he had to leave. Certainly there are women cla.s.sier than I who would have taken what happened between us to the grave, but my whole life has been putting my reality out there and owning up to it. For better or for worse. and go public with the details of our breakup. I don't know if that was the right thing to do then, but my ego just couldn't take the speculative chatter-in the public and even from friends-that somehow the old battle-ax nightmare Kathy Griffin ran her poor, sweet husband into the ground until he had to leave. Certainly there are women cla.s.sier than I who would have taken what happened between us to the grave, but my whole life has been putting my reality out there and owning up to it. For better or for worse.

My daughters Emmy and Emily.

My Life on the D-List, or as I like to cal it, "My Little Ghetto Fake Network Show," has actual y been the best thing that's ever happened to my career. Through the show, I've gotten to meet some of the greatest people, and have experienced some truly hilarious moments. It's led to some high points in my life, and been there to capture some low ones, too. Let's start with the highs.

Hi, Oprah. I didn't notice you walk into the room. You and Gayle came in at a great time. I was just about to start my EMMY STORIES!

It was the summer of 2006, and season two of The D-List The D-List had been airing on Bravo, when I hopped on Rosie O'Donnel 's gays-and-lesbians-and-children-of-gays-and-lesbians-and-the-straight-people-who-love-them cruise to Alaska to perform. Now, even when I was on a sitcom for four years, I was never one of those girls who got up at 4 a.m. had been airing on Bravo, when I hopped on Rosie O'Donnel 's gays-and-lesbians-and-children-of-gays-and-lesbians-and-the-straight-people-who-love-them cruise to Alaska to perform. Now, even when I was on a sitcom for four years, I was never one of those girls who got up at 4 a.m.

on Emmy nomination day and got my hair and makeup done so a crew could film me jumping up and down when they announce the nominees at 5 a.m. It never occurred to me in a gazil ion years I'd ever be nominated for anything anything, much less an Emmy award. Nothing against the kind citizens who once gave me the key to Louisvil e, Kentucky, or the kind citizens of the gay p.o.r.n community, who gave me an Honorary Gay for a Day trophy. Represent!

Wel , I'm sleeping in my cabin on Rosie's ship when I wake up and see the light on my phone blinking. Jessica had cal ed from her cabin and left me a message. I played it back and listened to her very casual y, very dryly go through the litany of things I had to do that day.

"Okay, Rosie wants you to go to her room in a couple of hours because you two are going to go over the show later. We're supposed to go watch some iceberg, and I'm not sure I want to stay up for it. The dry cleaning's going to be ready on Thursday. And congratulations, you got nominated for an Emmy. Bye!"

I was like, "What?? " "What?? "

I cal ed her back. "What was that last part again?"

In her uniquely deadpan Jessica delivery, she said, "Yeah, right, that's so great."

I had to say, "Jessica, I think that should have been the first first thing on your message! And I think you should have knocked on my door and woken me up! Hel o?" thing on your message! And I think you should have knocked on my door and woken me up! Hel o?"

Of course, I was convinced it wasn't real. Somehow there'd been a typo. Kathie Lee Gifford was the real nominee. There's a sound engineer somewhere named Katey Griffith who got a technical nomination. It didn't help that I was on a freakin' boat in Alaska where my cel phone wouldn't work, al the while trying to find a landline that didn't have static.

Once I got the nomination confirmed from about seven different people, I believed it. And man, was I over the moon. Real y bursting with excitement. I cal ed Mom and Dad first, of course, and they were thril ed.

I was flooded with emails from the network, and of course the mucky-mucks like Jeff Zucker and Jeff Gaspin who couldn't wait to tel me how they knew al along.

The reaction across the entertainment world was both cliched and surprising. I knew I'd get plenty of "She's horrible! Why her?" reactions.

But I can't tel you how many coldhearted old-timers-agents, publicists, veteran actors, people from my Groundlings days-who said to me some variation of: "Out of al the people I know who have been kickin'

around, you real y deserve this." That was my favorite thing. n.o.body was saying I was going to win. I mean, n.o.body thought I'd beat Extreme Extreme Makeover: Home Edition Makeover: Home Edition for Best Reality Program, including me. But it was real y nice to hear from people whom I had known from around the way-casting directors who told me to get a nose job, agents who'd told me I was too fat, my peers who had surpa.s.sed me in television-that whether they'd ever liked me or not, I'd worked hard and deserved to be recognized. for Best Reality Program, including me. But it was real y nice to hear from people whom I had known from around the way-casting directors who told me to get a nose job, agents who'd told me I was too fat, my peers who had surpa.s.sed me in television-that whether they'd ever liked me or not, I'd worked hard and deserved to be recognized.

Plus, simply put: The show was good!

Now, the reality show category I was nominated in is part of the Creative Arts Emmys, not the main draw Emmys you see in prime time where mercury poison-sensitive Jeremy Piven wins every f.u.c.king year for Entourage Entourage. The Creative Arts Emmys are for the technical awards and guest performers on series. And, obviously, the ugly stepchild that is reality programming. It does, however, have a red carpet, but more like a red rug. You'l recognize some of your Grey's Anatomy Grey's Anatomy faves, as long as your faves are Nurse #4, Dead Patient On b.l.o.o.d.y Gurney, or Respected Character Actor Whose Name You Don't Know. That meant the event I was going to was in the afternoon, where there's only one camera covering the ceremony, and E! runs a clip show from it that no one watches. In fact, in a truly inspired comedy moment, one of the Bravo network executives said, faves, as long as your faves are Nurse #4, Dead Patient On b.l.o.o.d.y Gurney, or Respected Character Actor Whose Name You Don't Know. That meant the event I was going to was in the afternoon, where there's only one camera covering the ceremony, and E! runs a clip show from it that no one watches. In fact, in a truly inspired comedy moment, one of the Bravo network executives said, "Oy "Oy. We cal them the Shmemmys."

But it's a nomination. Where do I sign, lady?

The other thing I didn't know was that I'd have to sit there for hours hours while sixty-six awards were handed out before they got to Best Reality Program, the second to last category. That's a lot of time to sit and think about how you're not going to be walking up onstage. It doesn't mean, of course, that when they get to your category, you don't al of a sudden have a strong desire to win. When they read while sixty-six awards were handed out before they got to Best Reality Program, the second to last category. That's a lot of time to sit and think about how you're not going to be walking up onstage. It doesn't mean, of course, that when they get to your category, you don't al of a sudden have a strong desire to win. When they read The D-List The D-List as a nominee, along with as a nominee, along with Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, The Dog Whisperer, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, The Dog Whisperer, Antiques Roadshow Antiques Roadshow, and Penn & Teller: Bulls.h.i.t Penn & Teller: Bulls.h.i.t, I couldn't help but think, What if I hear my name? What if I hear my name?

With no expectation to win, I a.s.sumed I'd be pretty calm and col ected when they got to our category. But let me tel you, that al goes out the window when the presenter announces your name with the other nominees. Sure enough, it was Ty Pennington and his Oprah-beloved Oprah-beloved show that won, and I couldn't help but be disappointed. Their posse al screamed, and as I turned around and looked back-cause I was in the front row-I couldn't get over how big their group was: there were more than two dozen people running down the aisle. Wel , the Bravo people were al behind me, and at that point I just wanted to make them laugh, and maybe even make the audience laugh. There's this period of about ten seconds when the applause has died down, and you're waiting for al these people to make their way from row thirty to the stage. I wasn't mic'd, so I just started screaming, "This is bul s.h.i.t! I was robbed!" I flipped off the show that won, and I couldn't help but be disappointed. Their posse al screamed, and as I turned around and looked back-cause I was in the front row-I couldn't get over how big their group was: there were more than two dozen people running down the aisle. Wel , the Bravo people were al behind me, and at that point I just wanted to make them laugh, and maybe even make the audience laugh. There's this period of about ten seconds when the applause has died down, and you're waiting for al these people to make their way from row thirty to the stage. I wasn't mic'd, so I just started screaming, "This is bul s.h.i.t! I was robbed!" I flipped off the Extreme Makeover Extreme Makeover folks, and said to Jessica, who came with me, "Get my bag! We're outta here!" It was al very dramatic, especial y because my dress had a train that dragged behind me as I stomped off, and I could hear the twenty-five people behind me laughing their a.s.ses off. I think the rest of the audience probably thought I was a psycho b.i.t.c.h, but I didn't care. I "stormed off," diva-style. folks, and said to Jessica, who came with me, "Get my bag! We're outta here!" It was al very dramatic, especial y because my dress had a train that dragged behind me as I stomped off, and I could hear the twenty-five people behind me laughing their a.s.ses off. I think the rest of the audience probably thought I was a psycho b.i.t.c.h, but I didn't care. I "stormed off," diva-style.

I didn't even go to the Governor's Bal , but instead went straight to In- N-Out Burger, thinking, Triumph! Triumph!

Weeks later, I ran into one of the interior designers from Extreme Extreme Makeover: Home Edition Makeover: Home Edition, who let me know in no uncertain terms that he did not think what I did was gracious. I said, "Dude, I was kidding.

How could you not know something so over the top like that was a joke?

It was then that I learned how little a sense of humor Hol ywood truly has. So I told the guy to f.u.c.k off.

Wel , the little show that could came through again, and we were up for an Emmy once more for season two. Only now I decided I was in it to win it. I campaigned every waking minute, and would openly beg television academy members to vote for the show. Bravo had pretty much stopped promoting The D-List The D-List, so I bought my own bil board above the Mel's Diner sign in Hol ywood for one month. It cost me $50,000, but I wanted this show, which I thought was good, to have a shot. Friends in show business thought I was crazy, but my take was, n.o.body else was going to do it, and this was a major opportunity.

The network started tel ing me, "We real y think you have a shot."

There was al this talk of "good feelings" about it. It seemed that our Iraq episode, where I went to Baghdad and Tikrit to entertain the troops-a show that could not have happened without the help of my good friend Lt. Col. Todd Brea.s.seale-was impressing everyone. I was certainly proud of it, and you certainly weren't going to see something like that on Antiques Roadshow Antiques Roadshow.

Nevertheless, I attended the afternoon Shmemmys absolutely convinced I was not going to win, that it would be "Extreme f.u.c.kover" for the third year in a row. With me were Jessica, plus new Team Griffin members Tiffany, my second a.s.sistant (because I'm that high maintenance), and tour manager Tom. Also with me was a game plan for what crazy bul s.h.i.t I was going to pul if I lost again, since I felt like I got some good comedy mileage out of my fake fit the year before. This year, I thought, if I lose, I'm going to run up onstage and start an acceptance speech before Extreme Makeover Extreme Makeover and their boatload of people knows what hit 'em. I know the audience wil get real y uncomfortable, my peeps wil laugh, and it'l be a great Andy Kaufmanesque moment, if I real y sel it. and their boatload of people knows what hit 'em. I know the audience wil get real y uncomfortable, my peeps wil laugh, and it'l be a great Andy Kaufmanesque moment, if I real y sel it.

But what I'd also planned for was what would happen if I won.

Because then I'd have everybody's attention legitimately.

I wanted something watercooler-worthy. So the day of the Emmys, I emailed three real y funny writer friends, which included a guy named Eric Friedman, who wrote for the Disney Channel show Zoe 101 Zoe 101 starring Jamie Lynn Spears. The reason I asked them to help was because I'm not real y good at sound-bite-style comedy, that kind of extreme short form, one-liner stuff. And for an awards show, you don't want to ramble, like I do in my act. You want something short and sweet.

Or in my case, short and incredibly shocking.

Wel , Eric came up with something I thought was hilarious and subversive: A lot of people come up here and they thank Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus. He didn't help me a bit. If it was up to him, Cesar Milan Jesus. He didn't help me a bit. If it was up to him, Cesar Milan would be up here with that d.a.m.n dog. So all I can say is suck it, would be up here with that d.a.m.n dog. So all I can say is suck it, Jesus, this award is my G.o.d now! Jesus, this award is my G.o.d now!

I thought it was laugh-out-loud funny. I read it to Mom beforehand.

"Wel , I think it's funny," she said, "but I think you're gonna have trouble."

"Good. Perfect. That's exactly what I'm looking for."

I can't remember if my mom rol ed her eyes or not. Probably.

On the red carpet, as I entered the awards show, I got asked about being upset last year that I had lost.

"I wasn't upset, I just wanted to cause a bit of a scene," I said. "But watch this year, it's going to be good either way. Trust me, you'l want to cover it."

I wanted the press at the Shmemmys that night to think they needed to stick around for my category-even if it was sixty-seventh or whatever -because something might happen. Even in the green room, I had Jessica running interference, making sure celebrities didn't leave after they'd made their appearance or won their award. Apparently she said to Seth Green, "If I were you, I wouldn't leave. Kathy's going to say something you're going to want to be here for."

My category final y came up, and I was so convinced I was going to lose that I had my right leg up like a pointer dog, ready to run on stage to horn in on Ty Pennington's moment. Then they announced my name. My My name! We won! Now I was going up onstage in complete shock! And what was so wonderful was that we got a huge round of applause. As much as I love to make fun of Hol ywood and everyone in it for being cynical, I real y felt like the people in that room-and these were my D-list peers, this being the afternoon Shmemmys, not the A-list nighttime Emmys-were happy for me. name! We won! Now I was going up onstage in complete shock! And what was so wonderful was that we got a huge round of applause. As much as I love to make fun of Hol ywood and everyone in it for being cynical, I real y felt like the people in that room-and these were my D-list peers, this being the afternoon Shmemmys, not the A-list nighttime Emmys-were happy for me.

But I could also feel an antic.i.p.ation like, "Uh-oh, what's she gonna say?" Which I loved. I took a second to recover a little bit because I wanted to do Eric's speech justice. I didn't want to dishonor it by s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g it up. I said it verbatim, and it got a big laugh, and I thought it was awesome. That was on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and I enjoyed myself the rest of the weekend. Everyone I ran into was congratulatory toward me, and I was prepared to get al settled in and wait for a nice mention in the trades about my hilarious speech.

Monday morning, stil in the glow of victory, with my Emmy curled up next to me in bed, one of my attorneys cal ed.

"So what happened this weekend?"

"Wel , you're not going to believe it, but I WON!"

"Yeah. What happened?"

"Well," I beamed, "I was wearing a silver dress, and at first my feet hurt because I was in those heels for so long, but let me tel you, when you hear your name it's like you have a second wind! And everybody was-" I beamed, "I was wearing a silver dress, and at first my feet hurt because I was in those heels for so long, but let me tel you, when you hear your name it's like you have a second wind! And everybody was-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" he interrupted.

I guess he wasn't cal ing me for a fashion recap.

"I've been getting some cal s," he said.

"Ugh, not this again," I said. Here was the s.h.i.tstorm. At this point, it was like that tornado-measuring rod in Twister Twister. I knew there was a storm a-comin' but I just didn't know how high it would measure. Visions of getting fired from the E! channel for the Dakota Fanning business-next chapter, people, hold tight-were swirling in my head.

"E! isn't going to air your 'Jesus, suck it' comment," he said.

"Al right. That's their choice."

Then he rattled off the list of people I'd offended, who'd been cal ing him. Mostly religious groups. I can't even remember the names now, because I have a no-apology policy with jokes. I said, "Who cares about them? I'd be nervous if I lost my job, but what do I care if some religious

group is offended? It takes nothing more than a stiff wind to p.i.s.s off those f.u.c.king phonies!"

That probably didn't help things.

Then the interview requests started pouring in. I was a hot talk show guest! I did Larry King for the whole hour, Jimmy Kimmel was clamoring to get the first crack at me, and CNN wanted to do a whole debate about my speech! (They wanted me to partic.i.p.ate, but I said "Nah, you should work that one out on your own, Wolf Blitzer.") It was so much fun watching the fal out. I remember being at home one night in my pajamas eating cookie dough and turning on CNN and hearing about how "controversial comedian Kathy Griffin stirs up Hol ywood as wel as the religious community!" Yay! Sounds like good TV! I turned around as if to cal to some imaginary watching buddy-"Hey!"-but there was no one there. I was so excited I forgot I was by myself.

Tiffany, Jessica, me, and Tom backstage at the Emmys, post-win.

What is wrong with Tom?

My mom thinks she just won an Emmy for "her" show.

I heard everything in those television back-and-forths, from "How could she offend the Lord?" to "She's funny and it's her first amendment right!" Bil O'Reil y made me Pinhead of the Week. My mother's dream: I was practical y on the O'Reilly Factor! O'Reilly Factor! There were demands that advertisers pul out of our show, which I thought was hilarious because it's not like Fortune 500 companies are buying ad time on There were demands that advertisers pul out of our show, which I thought was hilarious because it's not like Fortune 500 companies are buying ad time on My Life on My Life on the D-List the D-List. Seriously, it's, like, foot powder companies and late-night dial-a-date lines. Big deal. Then a religious group in Tennessee took out a ful -page ad about me in USA Today USA Today , and , and quoted the speech quoted the speech. It's the ful -page ad Bravo would never have paid for to advertise the show! I was like, "Hey, I got my ad!" I loved being able to cal Eric and say, "Hey, your speech is in USA Today." USA Today." I was delighted and so was he. It was like getting an award al over again. Shal I mention the name of the religious group? They were kind enough, after al , to pay $90,000 to promote me and my sense of humor. Nah. f.u.c.k 'em. I was delighted and so was he. It was like getting an award al over again. Shal I mention the name of the religious group? They were kind enough, after al , to pay $90,000 to promote me and my sense of humor. Nah. f.u.c.k 'em.

Plus, I have to say, my little fake network Bravo that I love to make fun of and have had my problems with, absolutely had my back on this thing.

I heard Jeff Zucker was flooded with emails demanding an apology, and he never flinched. For al I know Bravo b.i.t.c.hed and moaned behind my back, but never once did they say to me, "How dare you." I think they were very smart. They knew it was ultimately going to be good publicity, and besides, it fits the tone of the show. This isn't as if Nickelodeon had flipped out if Miranda Cosgrove from iCarly iCarly had said, "Suck it, Al ah." I don't think I lost one audience member, and I think it gained me several new ones. There's a market out there for people who are wil ing to stick their middle finger out in the air to the establishment. had said, "Suck it, Al ah." I don't think I lost one audience member, and I think it gained me several new ones. There's a market out there for people who are wil ing to stick their middle finger out in the air to the establishment.

Al in al , there real y was no downside to my little Emmy broadcast outburst, although I was scheduled to film a commercial for DirecTV, and they cal ed me and rescinded the offer. They actual y offered to give me a kil fee, but because they wanted me to sign a confidentiality agreement-basical y saying I couldn't talk about how they asked me not to do the commercial-I didn't sign it. You know me by now. I don't usual y turn down cash. I could have gotten a nice check. But I knew that would haunt me down the line. I'l wh.o.r.e myself out, but I won't censor myself, and especial y not in writing.

Dear Old Dad (Photo: Michael Grecco/Bravo/NBCU Photo Bank) My feeling is, keep your money, DirecTV. I'd rather be able to put it in the book!

That Emmy win was a glorious time, but there was one person who wasn't around to share it with me: John Patrick Griffin.

We were al nervous as filming started on season three, because Dad's health hadn't been good. The two mantras for that season had been me as a divorcee, openly going on dates with D-list celebrities for the purpose of getting publicity, and the evolution of Jessica into someone closer to me than just an a.s.sistant.

But it was Dad's congestive heart failure that was the pervasive issue everybody had to deal with. Questions of scheduling and shooting were always fraught with the tension of: What happens if we al have to go to the hospital suddenly? Can we even include Mom in things? Do I go out of town? We'd shoot Dad where we could, usual y at his and Mom's condo so he could sit comfortably in his favorite chair. And the one thing that I was very touched by was that he real y seemed to perk up for the show. I know he enjoyed it, and the thing I'm perhaps most grateful for when it comes to The D-List The D-List is that it's given my family the greatest record of my dad's final years. They always captured the best in him, his humor, his charm, his sweetness. is that it's given my family the greatest record of my dad's final years. They always captured the best in him, his humor, his charm, his sweetness.

The last night my dad was completely his old self-lucid, talking, being funny-was when the crew went without me to Mom and Dad's place for an hour-long sit-down interview, the kind that gets used as interst.i.tial bits between the action on the show. He had his arm around my mom, and he was making her laugh-which he did every day of their sixty-five years together-and now that uncut hour is something we'l always have. Later that night he didn't feel wel and made one of his then frequent trips to the hospital. He never went home again. He'd real y only been il the last year of his life, and was an unusual y healthy guy for freaking ninety. He probably exerted too much energy that night. But I'l bet he forgot about his problems for that hour on film.

It was touch and go for months after that. My family wanted the shooting stopped, so I had to have an important talk with my producers, because John Griffin was such an integral part of The D-List The D-List. I wasn't going to infringe on my family during this difficult time, but I didn't want it to seem like my dad disappeared into thin air. We had to come up with some way to deal with his imminent pa.s.sing that was sensitive and realistic. I just couldn't shoot a show where I'm crying when the cameras are off and then acting like everything's fine when the crew fol ows me to get Botox or do a gig in Des Moines.

My brother John agreed to be taped visiting Dad in the hospital. Mom was off-limits because understandably she just wasn't up to it. Same with Joyce and Gary, who also justifiably didn't feel like it.

Funnily enough, one of my last conversations with Dad was him joking, "Where are the cameras? Where are the cameras?" I know he was kidding, but I felt a lot of guilt during those times because I was working out of town so much. None of us knew which day would be his last.

I was on a plane to Miami to go do Rosie's cruise again and when I landed, I got the message from my sister that Dad had pa.s.sed away. By the end, Dad had also gotten multiple myeloma-which is a cancer of the plasma cel -and that's what real y kil ed him. I turned around and flew right back, and I told the crew they could tape me getting the house ready for his wake, but that they couldn't film my family, or the memorial service at the church. n.o.body would be mic'd, either. But I al owed them to tape the outside of the church. And then the producers did the most wonderful thing: They put together a reel for my dad's memorial, and it was beautiful. By that point Mom had gotten fed up with The D-List The D-List show in general because in her opinion they were keeping me too busy and away from the family-she obviously had different things on her mind-she didn't want to be on the show anymore, and the show should stop forever because she'd never get over the loss of her husband. But I think she had a change of heart when she saw what the producers had done with al that footage of Dad. It was old commercials, family photos, some great Irish music laid over it. Then I talked to my family about doing a good-bye-Dad episode, which they agreed to, and we arranged for Team Griffin to go to Ireland to bury Dad's ashes at one of his and Mom's favorite places in the old country. I'm very proud of that particular show. show in general because in her opinion they were keeping me too busy and away from the family-she obviously had different things on her mind-she didn't want to be on the show anymore, and the show should stop forever because she'd never get over the loss of her husband. But I think she had a change of heart when she saw what the producers had done with al that footage of Dad. It was old commercials, family photos, some great Irish music laid over it. Then I talked to my family about doing a good-bye-Dad episode, which they agreed to, and we arranged for Team Griffin to go to Ireland to bury Dad's ashes at one of his and Mom's favorite places in the old country. I'm very proud of that particular show.

There was no question as to whether I'd go back to work or not. I was shooting the day after the memorial-which was a week after Dad had pa.s.sed-and then I wanted to honor my contract to perform at Mandalay Bay for two live shows. A lot of people think that's cold and calculated, but know this: My dad was a workhorse. He was a sixty-hour-a-week retail guy who had five kids and shared child-rearing duties. Probably the last conversation I had with Dad, which was via scribbles on paper, because he wasn't able to talk, was me tel ing him I'd final y booked Carnegie Hal . He struggled to wave his arms, making a circular motion like he had a New Year's Eve clicker in his hand. He couldn't say "Wooo, Dol y!" like he would have whenever he'd share in someone's good news, but I knew he meant it. Then he took a long time writing something on a pad of paper. It was, "Next time, Shea?" As in, the stadium. I stil have that piece of paper. My dad's last words to me were about work! Dad got me. And I got him.

I was grateful for the support I got from those shows in Vegas. The news about dad's pa.s.sing had just gone up online, so I told the crowd, "I'm sure a lot of you know that your beloved John Griffin, my dad, pa.s.sed away. I just want to thank you guys, because if it wasn't for you here tonight getting my mind off it, I don't know what I'd be doing.

Probably just be sobbing. So let's just laugh as hard as we can." I did the show, took a break, then did the second show. One foot in front of the other.