Being a relative newbie... who am I kidding... total newbie. I probably should save this for Oprah or something on lifetime.
But screw that, I've learned a lot on this forum and laughed and hurt with some of you guys.
Part of whats great about this forum is the folks who come here. More than just the knowledge, the salt of the Earth people here. Bunch of guys that I'd love to share a beer with, or the beverage of your choice.
I'm hurting a bit today, and felt like sharing, if you guys don't mind I wanted to do it here.
Six years ago I lost my father, friend and mentor. Here is my story:
On November 17th, 2005 my father had what we thought at the time was his second heart attack. Turns out it was closer to his fourth, but like most guys I know little pains here and there don’t mean anything… I was working in Toronto at the time and was already due to fly back to Chicago the next morning. My father had retired to South Carolina the prior fall, and he was taking care of my grandmother. Ironic because if she didn’t force him to go to the hospital that day it’s probable that all would end there… he wasn’t taking care of her anymore it would seem.
I landed at O’Hare and headed home, I had talked to Dad at this point and he was pretty upset about being back is in the hospital, anyone who knows my old man at all took this as a good sign… if he was mad he was feeling better. They were talking surgery, triple bypass, so I got stuff together, loaded up the truck and headed down to Columbia, SC. Had to drive due to the Thanksgiving holiday, but that was also good because getting the time off wasn’t that big of a deal.
My little sister was living in Orlando at this time and being daddy’s little girl she was really upset. She met me down in SC, that Sat. and we were hanging with pops that day. Dad was tired, but by the end of the week had started doing much better. He still had a good amount of liquid in his lungs so they were estimating surgery sometime in the next couple weeks. So as we sat with Dad that Friday evening, ‘sis and I both planned on returning for the surgery and taking a couple weeks to hang with dad as he recovered. We said our goodbyes and I hit the sack then took off back to Chicago the next morning. Dad hated the hospital all he wanted to do was get out of there.
So, I made it home but it didn’t last long. Right about the time I was pulling into Chicago my father had a severe stroke. My last words were telling him I’d be back in a couple weeks… and he needn’t worry about anything.
Needless to say I was on a plane Monday morning, met my sister at the airport (she drove back up from Orlando) and we were back in the hospital, I became very familiar with the critical care unit over the weeks to come. Dad would never come back over the next month. He would wake up, and his eyes would move, it would seem that he was responsive to our voices but the doctors informed us he would never speak again… he’d never be dad again. That didn’t stop daddy’s ‘lil girl or his son though. He had been moved to a long term care floor and from 7 AM to 10 PM every day that is where we were, sitting with dad and watching TV… it was our routine. We’d get up at grandma’s and go to the hospital, then go back to grandma’s to sleep.
My whole life my father was in good shape, he’d been a diabetic for about 40 years and as a result of his disease keeping in shape was his best defense from succumbing to it. He’d always been around 200 lbs, but since his first heart attack he’d trimmed down to 175. Now over the next weeks, he’d get down to less than 100 lbs. That was the toughest part for me, kind of funny even saying that… since nothing was particularly easy about the situation, but this was a man that my whole life was the toughest guys I’ve ever known. Now I have to watch him waste away in front of my eyes. Over the next weeks I was coming to the realization that he wasn’t coming back, I was even hoping it would end soon… that his suffering would end. That our suffering would end. As much as ‘sis and I hated that hospital there was no way we were leaving him alone, not one day would he not hear our voices, not him, no way. His stomach stopped absorbing food about a week after the stroke. He was being kept “comfortable” with what amounts to sugar water. ‘Sis and I got really used to watching TV; we had a pretty good after lunch rotation which included Cash Cab, To Catch a Thief, Star Trek TNG…ect. On the afternoon of Dec 22nd, 2005 at approximately 4:30 PM Eastern Standard time my father died. My little sister and I stood by his side and watched the life pass from his body, as he took his last breath we each held a hand and his eyes dilated and his skin turned white then he was gone. My father was gone. 62 short years on this earth, but those years are important to me.
Merry Christmas Dad, ‘sis and I miss you every day. Thanks to you I can say I’m my own man. You taught me what real work was, about getting my hands dirty and getting it done. Taught me about faith, and how it is one of the most powerful gifts a person can have. You taught me that I need to get better every day or I’m just getting worse. Showed me how to workout, and how to run. How to change oil and spark plugs. Sacrificed your personal comfort to get my ‘sis and I an education. Never let us take anything for granted, you made us work for what we had. Because of you dad, I know that the most important thing is for me to make life better for my kids someday, just like you and mom did for us.
My father had his problems, like we all do. He was not a wealthy man, but had enough to take care of his family. After his passing I found out so much more about the man I called dad. About how he took homeless people out for meals at the local diner. About how he gave a couple buddies of his that were down on their luck cars so they could get themselves to jobs. This was a guy who drove cars basically duct taped together for years, but it was all he needed at the time. About the money he sent his mother every month since his father died, to make sure she was alright. His giving continued when he moved to South Carolina. This sounds silly, but the way we were raised money rarely came up, not to say we never needed it or wanted it. We were taught that if you needed something, you worked to get it. So, I’m serious when I say we never talked about it. My pops could have lived so much better than he did, but that wasn’t his style. It was much more important for him to take care of others.
After he died my sister and I were charged with sorting his room out and bringing his stuff home. In it I found his Honorable discharge from the Air Force. This was one of the things I never fully understood. Dad NEVER talked about his time in the service. I knew he served, I knew it was the Air Force, but nothing else. This was my father though, he focused on the now, on his kids and our lives. We talked about the present and the future never the past. Looking back I take it as he wanted us always going forward never back. Sad to say I learned a lot more about Dad’s life before me after he died, than while he was alive.
Dad,
All my life all I wanted was to make you proud, to show you I was a good man. Wasn’t until Dec. 22nd that I realized I never got the chance to tell you I was proud of you…
Merry Christmas Airman, Merry Christmas Dad, Merry Christmas Teacher, Merry Christmas Friend.
Love forever, your son,
But screw that, I've learned a lot on this forum and laughed and hurt with some of you guys.
Part of whats great about this forum is the folks who come here. More than just the knowledge, the salt of the Earth people here. Bunch of guys that I'd love to share a beer with, or the beverage of your choice.
I'm hurting a bit today, and felt like sharing, if you guys don't mind I wanted to do it here.
Six years ago I lost my father, friend and mentor. Here is my story:
On November 17th, 2005 my father had what we thought at the time was his second heart attack. Turns out it was closer to his fourth, but like most guys I know little pains here and there don’t mean anything… I was working in Toronto at the time and was already due to fly back to Chicago the next morning. My father had retired to South Carolina the prior fall, and he was taking care of my grandmother. Ironic because if she didn’t force him to go to the hospital that day it’s probable that all would end there… he wasn’t taking care of her anymore it would seem.
I landed at O’Hare and headed home, I had talked to Dad at this point and he was pretty upset about being back is in the hospital, anyone who knows my old man at all took this as a good sign… if he was mad he was feeling better. They were talking surgery, triple bypass, so I got stuff together, loaded up the truck and headed down to Columbia, SC. Had to drive due to the Thanksgiving holiday, but that was also good because getting the time off wasn’t that big of a deal.
My little sister was living in Orlando at this time and being daddy’s little girl she was really upset. She met me down in SC, that Sat. and we were hanging with pops that day. Dad was tired, but by the end of the week had started doing much better. He still had a good amount of liquid in his lungs so they were estimating surgery sometime in the next couple weeks. So as we sat with Dad that Friday evening, ‘sis and I both planned on returning for the surgery and taking a couple weeks to hang with dad as he recovered. We said our goodbyes and I hit the sack then took off back to Chicago the next morning. Dad hated the hospital all he wanted to do was get out of there.
So, I made it home but it didn’t last long. Right about the time I was pulling into Chicago my father had a severe stroke. My last words were telling him I’d be back in a couple weeks… and he needn’t worry about anything.
Needless to say I was on a plane Monday morning, met my sister at the airport (she drove back up from Orlando) and we were back in the hospital, I became very familiar with the critical care unit over the weeks to come. Dad would never come back over the next month. He would wake up, and his eyes would move, it would seem that he was responsive to our voices but the doctors informed us he would never speak again… he’d never be dad again. That didn’t stop daddy’s ‘lil girl or his son though. He had been moved to a long term care floor and from 7 AM to 10 PM every day that is where we were, sitting with dad and watching TV… it was our routine. We’d get up at grandma’s and go to the hospital, then go back to grandma’s to sleep.
My whole life my father was in good shape, he’d been a diabetic for about 40 years and as a result of his disease keeping in shape was his best defense from succumbing to it. He’d always been around 200 lbs, but since his first heart attack he’d trimmed down to 175. Now over the next weeks, he’d get down to less than 100 lbs. That was the toughest part for me, kind of funny even saying that… since nothing was particularly easy about the situation, but this was a man that my whole life was the toughest guys I’ve ever known. Now I have to watch him waste away in front of my eyes. Over the next weeks I was coming to the realization that he wasn’t coming back, I was even hoping it would end soon… that his suffering would end. That our suffering would end. As much as ‘sis and I hated that hospital there was no way we were leaving him alone, not one day would he not hear our voices, not him, no way. His stomach stopped absorbing food about a week after the stroke. He was being kept “comfortable” with what amounts to sugar water. ‘Sis and I got really used to watching TV; we had a pretty good after lunch rotation which included Cash Cab, To Catch a Thief, Star Trek TNG…ect. On the afternoon of Dec 22nd, 2005 at approximately 4:30 PM Eastern Standard time my father died. My little sister and I stood by his side and watched the life pass from his body, as he took his last breath we each held a hand and his eyes dilated and his skin turned white then he was gone. My father was gone. 62 short years on this earth, but those years are important to me.
Merry Christmas Dad, ‘sis and I miss you every day. Thanks to you I can say I’m my own man. You taught me what real work was, about getting my hands dirty and getting it done. Taught me about faith, and how it is one of the most powerful gifts a person can have. You taught me that I need to get better every day or I’m just getting worse. Showed me how to workout, and how to run. How to change oil and spark plugs. Sacrificed your personal comfort to get my ‘sis and I an education. Never let us take anything for granted, you made us work for what we had. Because of you dad, I know that the most important thing is for me to make life better for my kids someday, just like you and mom did for us.
My father had his problems, like we all do. He was not a wealthy man, but had enough to take care of his family. After his passing I found out so much more about the man I called dad. About how he took homeless people out for meals at the local diner. About how he gave a couple buddies of his that were down on their luck cars so they could get themselves to jobs. This was a guy who drove cars basically duct taped together for years, but it was all he needed at the time. About the money he sent his mother every month since his father died, to make sure she was alright. His giving continued when he moved to South Carolina. This sounds silly, but the way we were raised money rarely came up, not to say we never needed it or wanted it. We were taught that if you needed something, you worked to get it. So, I’m serious when I say we never talked about it. My pops could have lived so much better than he did, but that wasn’t his style. It was much more important for him to take care of others.
After he died my sister and I were charged with sorting his room out and bringing his stuff home. In it I found his Honorable discharge from the Air Force. This was one of the things I never fully understood. Dad NEVER talked about his time in the service. I knew he served, I knew it was the Air Force, but nothing else. This was my father though, he focused on the now, on his kids and our lives. We talked about the present and the future never the past. Looking back I take it as he wanted us always going forward never back. Sad to say I learned a lot more about Dad’s life before me after he died, than while he was alive.
Dad,
All my life all I wanted was to make you proud, to show you I was a good man. Wasn’t until Dec. 22nd that I realized I never got the chance to tell you I was proud of you…
Merry Christmas Airman, Merry Christmas Dad, Merry Christmas Teacher, Merry Christmas Friend.
Love forever, your son,
