A Father’s Farewell : Former Laker Erickson Copes With the Death of His Nocturnal ‘Angel’

A perfect child is born, and parents rejoice. For 22 years, that is what Angelica was to the Ericksons, an angel. Everyone said so. She was the golden girl, so bright that she was studying to become a doctor, so nurturing that she tutored neighborhood children, so spiritual that she sang hymns or opera in the shower, so lustrous that she was approached more than once to be a model, but instead worked long nights, as a waitress.

On the afternoon of Nov. 22, after Keith Erickson picked up one of his sons, David, at school, he drove to the Santa Monica house where the family has lived for 25 years. When he stepped through the door, the last thing Keith expected was to find his eldest son, Sean, seated on the floor, crying. The pastor of his church was there also, as was Keith’s wife, Adrienne, who said, “Sit down.”

Eight days later, in a converted gymnasium that is part of the Calvary Church in Pacific Palisades, there were nearly 750 mourners who heard Keith Erickson say, “One week ago, we received the news that every parent dreads: ‘Your child is dead.’ ”

It took all of his faith and strength to continue.

“I remember when I was in my early teens, and my grandmother had passed away. And I remember just one thing from that whole ceremony, that my grandfather was wailing. He was wailing. I couldn’t understand why he could be so distraught that he would be wailing aloud, crying out that way, at the top of his ability.

“I understand now.”

Among those in attendance were so many of the dear friends the Ericksons had made, throughout Keith’s years as a basketball player with UCLA and the Lakers, or later, during his current job as part of the Phoenix Suns’ broadcast team. Eulogizing his daughter, wherever Erickson looked he could see John Wooden, Jerry West, Paul Westphal, Chick Hearn, Kurt Rambis, Rudy LaRusso, Jerry Colangelo, faces and voices from his life.

Alongside them were the neighbors or companions who knew Angelica Erickson’s keen sense of humor, her contrasting shyness, her vise-like handshake, whose memories were so vivid of a young woman, nearly 5 feet 11, blond hair flowing, from her days as a Girl Scout, or lifeguard, or volleyball and basketball player from Santa Monica High who performed in stage musicals and sang madrigals.

Some remembered her restlessness.

She couldn’t sleep nights. Even as an infant, Keith Erickson’s daughter would be in diapers and crib, tucked in, only to clamber out, the instant her daddy left the room, 15 times in a single night sometimes, until, as Keith said, one of them would be worn out.

It was a habit that carried over well into Angelica’s adulthood. The fact that their daughter was “always a night owl” was the one thing that kept Keith and Adrienne concerned, constantly, about someone whose life in most other ways seemed to have proper direction and order. The premed classes she took at The Master’s, a college of Christian learning in the Santa Clarita Valley, kept her occupied, and a semester’s sabbatical in Israel for further education was being arranged. There didn’t seem time to get into trouble.

Yet for some reason, even after spending hours on her feet waiting tables at a seafood restaurant, Angelica resisted fatigue. She was positively nocturnal, staying out late, sleeping in the same way. When she wasn’t in the two-bedroom Valencia apartment she shared near campus with four roommates, she might be found at a place called Van Gogh’s Ear, drinking coffee, or somewhere else, the later the better.

The mourners couldn’t help but laugh, when Keith Erickson said, “You all knew Angelica. She didn’t do mornings. You couldn’t get her out of bed.”

Nighttime, you couldn’t get her into one, not early. It was her parents’ one pet peeve. Nothing good happens at night, Keith is prone to say. The people you meet, the temptations you face, the more dangerous they get, the later the hour. No matter how someone might conduct himself or herself by day, well, it always reminded Angelica’s mother of River Phoenix, the young actor who ate healthy food, drank distilled water, led a clean life, then ended up dead after experimenting with drugs.

“They think they’re invincible,” she would say.

And so it came to pass that, a number of weeks ago, Adrienne Erickson was in her daughter’s bedroom at the family home when, to her horror, she found some drug paraphernalia. It was the kind of discovery that can make a parent think the worst, fear the worst, know the worst. But you take it on faith, particularly when you are as devoutly religious as the Ericksons are, that when your child tells you nothing is wrong, not to be worried, you pray and convey your trust.

She had known rebellious days, yes, like anyone her age. In his heart of hearts, Keith Erickson, 52, treasured his daughter as the little girl who wrote him the Father’s Day card:

“Dear Pop: You’re the absolute best. Thanks for making such an effort to understand or sympathize with my crazy ways. Thanks for always making an effort on issues we just can’t seem to resolve. Most of all, thanks for setting an example for all of us, on just how important God’s love is, over money, cars, prestige, even our nice house. My life has a purpose and meaning, because of what you and Mom have instilled in all of us. Well, happy Father’s Day.”

The Ericksons never saw it coming, even with that one horrifying hint, found in their daughter’s room that day.

They continually called her apartment, however late, to make sure she had gotten home safely. On those nights when Angelica was to sleep in the family home, Keith would stare out the window, into the darkness, eager to spot the headlights from her car. Nothing that happens late is good, he kept telling himself. Late is no good. Very late is worse.

Early on a Friday afternoon, one of Angelica’s four roommates found her sprawled on the floor, between the bathroom and one of the bedrooms. Paramedics took her to Henry Mayo Memorial Hospital. At 2:17, she was pronounced dead, and someone from the university quickly contacted Steve Faubion, the pastor at Calvary Church, who drove to the Ericksons’ home to break the news.

“Dear Neighbors,” the Ericksons wrote in a letter they distributed the next day, the most difficult letter they ever wrote.

“We wanted you to know that our precious and beloved daughter, Angelica, went home to be with the Lord yesterday afternoon about 1:15. She died from an overdose of drugs.

“Earlier that day, she had attended a chapel service at school and had lunch with friends in the cafeteria, commenting on the excellent speaker and the beautiful hymn, ‘It Is Well With My Soul.’ She had been out very late the night before, with old friends.

“We are heartbroken, but we thank God for the time that she was with us. We celebrated her 22nd birthday on Nov. 4. Because of God’s mercy and grace and salvation, we have the assurance that we will be with her again one day, in the presence of God Almighty, through faith in His Son, Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Savior of the World, our only hope.”

On her birthday, Angelica had dinner with her parents. A week later, it was their anniversary, and a $200 gift certificate to a restaurant came in handy with a family of seven. Making a commitment to keep as close to the $200 amount as possible, skipping appetizers and dessert if necessary, just to be prudent, the Ericksons sat down to dinner, sat and waited for their oldest daughter Angelica, who was, not surprisingly, late.

Suddenly she breezed in, vibrant as ever. Glancing at the menu and closing it just as quickly, she ordered a large salad and an expensive steak. And everyone laughed, because so much for the budget.

“She was very shy,” Keith remembers. “She wasn’t in with the in crowd. She wasn’t cool. But when you got to know her, she was the best.”

Thanksgiving came and went. So did Christmas. It was such a quiet holiday in the Erickson home, where the sound of laughter had so often been heard. The kids know from their faith that there is a reason for everything. The eldest, Sean, wonders why he was spared, from serious intestinal surgery not long ago, and his sister was not. The parents comfort their children all they can.

Keith Erickson made sure the last hymn his daughter loved was sung at her memorial service. Of his daughter he said, “She made one very bad decision. On top of that, I couldn’t be more proud of her, my peach, my angel.”

A memorial scholarship fund in Angelica Erickson’s name has been established. Interested parties may contact Calvary Church, 701 Palisades Drive, Pacific Palisades 90272. (310) 454 6537.