Farewell, Part 2

Early Friday morning, my father died...

I feel very fortunate that I had the opportunity to say good bye, and that I was able to say thank you to him... but most of all, I feel fortunate to have had him as a father.

In a letter I wrote to him in February, I said:

There’s so much I have to thank you for, that it’s hard to know where to begin. I feel somewhat like the winner of an Oscar, on stage preparing to thank everyone that contributed to their success. But, in fact, although my list of things to be thankful is long, the list of people to thank is relatively short. What is clear is that you and Mom are at the top of the list.

Thank you first of all, for being who you are and setting an example for everyone who has known you.
...

You have demonstrated honesty, and expected the same from me. You have demonstrated integrity before I understood what the word meant, and let me discover it on my own, through your example. You have demonstrated responsibility, and guided me with a loving and gentle hand to learn responsibility and to enjoy myself along the way. And, you have demonstrated love and compassion for all of us, and especially for the way you’ve lived your life and marriage with Mom.

...

And, although I suppose it’s a part of your integrity, your determination is unique and stands above others as well. It is rare that you tackle a job, or pursue a goal and then give up. I’m sure that there are a few challenges that you’ve faced where you realized that you had to give up. But, off hand, I can’t think of any I’ve witnessed.

Probably one of the most impressive examples of your determination has been your response to your illness over the past few years. You have demonstrated a degree of determination that can only be described as courageous. Again, your positive outlook in the face of adversity has been an example to all around you. And, even as you have been weakened, and reached a point where determination might not be enough, and while it has been hard for all of us close to you to see you suffer, you have demonstrated a patience and grace that are an inspiration to all of us.

...

The world is a better place because of the time he was here.

Farewell...

After drinks with friends, co-workers, and several guys from one of our contractors, we all headed over to Morton's for dinner. Somehow, I ended up at the head of the table of nine. I ordered a Whiskey Manhattan, and then my phone rang....

My Aunt had called from my mom and dad's house, and it rolled over to our home phone. My wife got the call, and called me a second time. She relayed the news that my dad wanted me to come say goodbye.

There wasn't much more to it than that, so I told the guys I was sorry I had to leave, and headed to my parents home just a few minutes away.

Laying in a hospital bed, downstairs near their big screen TV, my dad lay comfortably, resting. Although talking was difficult for him, he expressed that he felt himself going "up" and then "down" and that he wanted to say goodbye.

He told me that he loved having me for a son, that he felt very loved, and that he has no regrets.

To my brother, on the phone from California, he said the same thing.

We talked for a bit, but mostly I just held his hand.

Throughout the day, friends, neighbors, and former co-workers called and stopped by to pay their respects, say goodbye to my dad, and offer their support to my mom.

It's not easy saying goodbye... but I can't imagine any better way.

No regrets.

The Dream

A little over a year ago, my dad was diagnosed with cancer... again.

He was first diagnosed with throat cancer in late 1998. At the time, the surgeon he spoke with gave him a 40% chance of living another year, if, he underwent extensive surgery. Fortunately, a couple of really great doctors, and chemo and radiation therapy saved him; five years later, he had a clean bill of health -- nearly full recovery, and no sign of the original cancer. But, after a year or so of good news, the news turned bad again. A new cancer, likely a result of the original radiation therapy, had developed into a tumor. In the following months, various experimental treatments helped, and a return to chemo shrunk the tumor for a while. But, this year, the doctors have had to acknowledge that the treatments they have been exploring are no longer working.

It has been a difficult time for our family and friends. Especially difficult for my mom. But both she and my dad have demonstrated exceptional grace. My mom has truly lived the traditional wedding vow "in sickness and in health."

The original radiation treatment damaged my dad's saliva glands, and in the last several months, the tumor has grown large enough that it interferes with his ability to swallow. The combination has made speech increasingly difficult for him. Lately, our convesations have been pretty one-sided.

Last night, I had a dream in which I was talking with him. It didn’t surprise me at all, but when I realized that I was enjoying our talk, I turned to face him. The person I saw was late 20-something, not exactly my dad, but very familiar; very similar to photos of my dad from that era. When I realized that he was “well” I hugged him, and could feel my emotions welling up.

Then I woke up....

I miss the times we spent talking with each other. And, with our time together now measured in weeks, or perhaps, days, I know that I’ll soon miss him entirely. But, I feel fortunate that I’ve had the opportunity to talk to him, thank him for everything he has done for me, hug him a few more times, and tell him how much I love him.

…Don’t take time with your friends and loved ones for granted.