My Father

In October of 2006 my family found out my dad was suffering from Congestive heart failure and there was nothing that could be done. At that point we were informed that he would not be alive for much longer - days, week, maybe a few months but that was all. He didn't make it through the month - he had a final heart attack while I was on the phone with him just after he said he was feeling okay and not in any pain. The next thing I heard was silence and my mom or brother got on the phone to tell me it was over. It started a long drive to see my family, make funeral arrangements and grieve.

My dad had owned an automotive machine shop for most of my life - he sold it off a couple of years before his death. He had a temper and for most of my life would fight with anyone at the drop of a hat. Not physical violence, only verbal. But it could get bad. He softened up his last few years and people were able to see the real person underneath. The experience that softened him happened after he lost a leg because of his diabetes. A nurse was taking care of him and cleaning his foot. For whatever reason that action and her words showed him that even someone in his position mattered enough that she would take the time to wash his feet. This event touched him deeply - it was one of the few times that he was able to see that people cared about him. Thankfully, in the end, a lot of people came around and he was able to see it more than ever. He was also able to show my mom how much he really cared for her.

I'm posting this here as a form of therapy for myself - as I've been having a hard time the last week or so dealing with losses in my life. Well, this is what I wrote the night before his funeral.

My Dad was the strongest man I'll ever know. I'm sitting in his favorite spot as I write this and unfortunately he isn't here to take it back - not that he would have anyhow. As I was growing up I saw sides of him that no one ever seemed to see. I was my Dad's son. I was just like him in so many way. We had a lot of differences but we were a lot alike. I used to tell my mom this and she would get so angry. Those people that have known my Dad awhile saw a side of my Dad that my brother and I lived with as we grew up. He had a temper and could get angry but through all of that he still had one worry in his life - even at his worst - to take care of my Mom. As tough as he could be he always thought of her. He could yell loud enough to wake the neighbors but yet I've never known him to hurt a fly.

He went through an experience that he made a point to tell many people a couple of years ago and that changed him. The hard edges went away and suddenly everyone else could see the soft side that I had always known was there. He had finally found his voice to let that out. Him and I had an odd connection. We weren't always very close but we knew the other person would always be there to help out. Whenever my car would have a problem he would be around to fix it or at least try to talk me through how to do it myself. Luckily for me, he was a good teacher and I'll be able to get by with out it. My Dad was able to do anything he wanted. If he needed a tool he would make it. If he needed a way to move engine blocks by himself he built a lift. He always taught me there was no such word as "can't." There was always a way. Even until the end he still did anything his body would allow him to do. He drove a car and talked at meetings (He was a member of AA and had been for most of my life). He had to help other people. He had finally found his voice and for that I will always be thankful. I think I was the only one that could see through that tough exterior for most of his life and think that bound us together. I did what I could to share that with everyone that I talked to. I was always and still am very proud of my Father.

He left this world in the presence of the three most important people in his life and was being watched over by his two best friends Blackjack and Midnight (his cats). I wasn't able to be there in person but I was there on the phone with him as he died. All he was able to tell me is that he was okay and he wasn't in pain. None of us had any idea that those would be his last words but we are all thankful that he was able to leave with the same dignity he fought for in his life. He was proud of his two boys and was deeply hurt that we, my brother and I, weren't talking. But he managed to last long enough for that moment. A three year silence had just ended on the same phone call and his was informed of that shortly before I had a chance to talk to him. As tough as he could be he had gotten his biggest wish. It wasn't for money, it wasn't for cars or anything else. He had his boys talking again and together with him and his wife.

For the last few weeks he has offered me anything he had but all I really wanted was for him to be happy. I got my wish from him. All that I want from anyone else is to keep his memory live - share his stories. Share the good and the bad for that was the man - but most of all smile. I don't think he fully realized that the good parts of me that he saw were all from him. It took this point for my mom to realize that me being like him wasn't something to be ashamed of but instead something to be proud of.