Hello blogland peeps! I actually started this post on March 4, my dad's actual birthday, but there were things I wanted to say that I hadn't yet written. The post didn't feel quite "right."
March 4 would have been my dad's 79th birthday. He left this world in 1995, at the age of 60, way too soon. I miss him every day, and talk to him all the time. Of course, I don't recieve much in the way of words in return, but the feeling of his presence is enough. It's enough because I know he is in a good place, and not the sick body he left on this earth.
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| Me and Dad at Hoover Dam 1965 |
My dad loved the outdoors, especially wildlife, and volunteered building habitat for bighorn sheep; music, big band, country, classic rock, jazz and blues; laughing, he loved the show Laugh-In and the Smothers Brothers; work; and he loved his family. He was proud of his family and what he, and we, accomplished. He was also a person who wanted to be in control of things, yet he had no control over much of anything, not even himself or his own body, the last four years of his life.
In those last four years, he was almost completely blind and wasn't well. He couldn't drive or do the things most of us take for granted. He wasn't the muscular, strapping young man my mom married, nor was he the strong, able man that I had known most of my life, he had wasted away to no more than what looked like 100 pounds. His 5'10" frame had shrunk to no taller than 5'8". He looked nothing like himself. He was too sick to enjoy his life. I'm sure he had moments of happiness, but I feel like the joy in life was sucked out of him (and literally, while he was having dialysis). His last years were filled with diabetes, blindness, kidney failure and 3 times a week dialysis, mini-strokes, etc. He put on a brave face and made the best of things, as was his nature, but it was nothing but a shitty existence, not a life. He was forced to let go of much of what defined him as a man, to people he knew and to himself.
One day in August 1995, Dad took control and decided no more. He said "no" when his doctor told him he needed a new shunt for the dialysis; the old one wasn't going to work much longer. My dad got his affairs in order and let go of his earthly existence in September. Once he made his decision, he became himself again. It had been years since I had seen him happy and at peace. He wasn't afraid. I think he was actually a better version of his old self, the self he was meant to be. It felt like he was free, liberated from concern of the worldly crap in which we can all get trapped. I felt like he was more interested in things I think he would have been interested in had he not been so involved in work all the time. It isn't that I don't understand why he was at work all the time, but I wish he would have had more balance in his life. I think he would have been healthier and could have been here now had he instead taken better care of himself. I always imagined he would enjoy reading more, something he did very seldom, except for the Sunday newspaper and a little National Geographic, and more traveling, because he was so curious. During the last conversations we had, he asked me about some of the things I had read and studied. He took the time to ask me what I thought about things other than my job. He wanted to know about the things that made my life worth living.
His memorial service was very well attended and I learned some things about my dad that I wish HE had told me, things he did in his life, awards he had earned, and jobs he had had. Days after the service, I heard that some people were upset because my brother and I weren't upset enough at his passing, not crying and such. We were smiling and happy because, for one reason, so many people had come to say goodbye to our father. That said a great deal about who he was and how well- loved and respected he was. Secondly, Dad was free and at peace! He chose what he wanted on his own terms and we (or at least I, I can't really speak for my brother, but I think I know him well enough to do so in this case) were happy for him being out of the crappy body that had been his prison on this earth, the body that had left him a shell of the man he once was. He chose to die with dignity. He did things his way. For once in a long time he was back in control.
If I were him, I would have done the same thing. I would not want to continue like he had continued. Existence isn't a life. I know that things can really go wrong with our bodies and our minds, and accidents happen. It is important that we tell the people we love that we love them, to not take others for granted, to not leave things unsaid and unforgiven, and we have to LIVE every day. None of us want to simply exist, that really isn't a life.
When I think of my dad I think of the good things. We were a great deal alike, both of us brave and optimistic. One day we went up to the mountains for a picnic and it started raining. Dad suggested we have our picnic in the car. There was no disappointment, no feeling that the day was ruined. We still had our picnic. We both loved the outdoors, camping, hiking and being in the wild. I would have loved to share my home in Tahoe with him. He would have loved it! We might have camped and gone out on a boat, which he liked to do. (He would have marveled at the extent of my camping equipment, nearly every comfort of home including a propane shower.) I would have loved to tell him about our trip to Peru, hiking the Incan Trail to Machu Picchu, and all the places I will go and things I will do in the future.
I remember lying on the floor in front of the stereo and enjoying music together. I was daddy's girl, but I was still very independent. I still am! He told me I could do whatever I wanted to do and be whatever I wanted to be. I felt I could have confidence in myself and my abilities. Even now, nothing really worries me, but I know he worried and never expressed it. That was the biggest difference between us, he worried and did not express his feelings, except for love for his family. He might have been healthier if he would have had faith that everything would be okay and had talked about his feelings, but nothing can be done about that now.
There are things Dad did of which I am in total awe! He was an Eagle Scout, and I am sure that accomplishment was well deserved. Out in nature, I never saw him afraid of anything, not even rattlesnakes. When he was in college and on summer breaks, he collected Grand Canyon's rattlesnakes, for Northern Arizona University, to be milked for venom. People survived rattlesnake bites because my dad collected those snakes and NAU made antivenom. That's pretty cool! He was also a survival trainer, teaching people how to survive on Wheeler Mountain in New Mexico. He was a determined man, building a family business that allowed him to be a good provider for our family, even after he passed.
His love of animals showed when one day he brought home a 6-month old puppy. The little dog, a black and white peekapoo we named Pepper, was pregnant. He had a job installing insulation at the animal shelter and Pepper was to be euthanized that day. Nobody wanted a pregnant little dog, but he could not let her die. (My grandparents and Dad's sister's family took the puppies.) Pepper was the sweetest thing and a member of our family for about 15 years. Even though all of us were allergic to her and she shed all over the place, she lived in the house where she belonged. For her to live outside would have been cruel. All dogs, and little dogs, especially, need to be inside with their family.
We also had a black and tan hound, Pete, that the landlord would not let us keep at the house we rented. Dad took him to the family business and he was a guard dog. I'm not sure how good a guard dog Pete was. He probably wouldn't have done much but lick someone to death. Dad built Pete a good-sized, insulated house with a heater for the winter and a nice fan installed for the summer, it even had a porch overhang so he would always have access to shade. I know Dad would have rather had Pete home with us. One summer our family went away for the weekend and Dad put his manager in charge of feeding and caring for Pete while we were gone. The dumbass (the absolute kindest name I have for this scum of the earth), locked Pete, who was now old and deaf, outside the office yard. Giving him food and water for a couple days was, apparently, asking too much. He was fired immediately! (YAY, but that wasn't enough punishment for me!) We never saw Pete again and, to this day, I wonder what happened to the sweet, old boy. As I write this I have tears in my eyes. That was about 35 years ago.
One night we went out looking for a Siamese cat someone had abandoned in the desert. Dad had seen her that day and knew she needed a home. All four of us crowded onto the seat of the pickup and rode across the desert until we found her, brought her home and named her Duchess. She was skittish at first and was an ankle-biter, but when you give an animal a home, it becomes a member of your family, forever. The ankle-biting faded out eventually, and she was just a sweet kitty. We found out we were all allergic to cats, too! Duchess was really full of love and followed me to the bus stop every day, and even watched over Pepper when she got spayed. She wanted to be a mostly outside cat, but she came inside whenever she wanted to. We always had animals, including dogs, cats, fish, and gerbils.
Like my dad, I am determined. I also love my family, animals, the outdoors and doing things that other people would think very brave, or even insane. Like Dad, I measure the risks against my abilities and how likely the risks are to cause a problem. I am a responsible adrenalin junkee!
Dad would have been proud of my brother for the man he has become, and of me, too. He would have been happy for us and our happiness in life. Knowing that makes me happy. He knew my husband, George, when we were kids and I know he would have loved and respected the man George became. He would have laughed with and loved my brother's wife, and her, and now my brother's, child. He would have delighted in being a grandfather and would have wanted to play and have fun with his grandkids.
I don't really have much of a point to this post, like I often do with my other posts. I was just thinking of my dad during his birthday month and wanted to share about him from my perspective. I hope you enjoyed the post and it gives you the incentive to hug your parents and let them know how you feel about them, and work out anything that you need to work out. (I do realize that isn't always possible!) Take the time to laugh with them and share some quality moments. Once they are gone, a part of you goes with them, and a part of them stays with you. Hm. I guess I found a point to, probably, the longest blog post I've ever written!
Love and blessings to you all!
P.S. I don't know why Blogger wouldn't let me caption the second photo, but it is me and my brother, with Duchess and Pepper, Christmas 1975. I also tried to add another photo, a family picnic in the desert from 1965. Go figure. :)
It's possible that I have lost my mind. We all have our idiosyncrasies. I know I'm not alone in this; I have seen it. Some of us always wear red to business meetings; only read audiobooks or in one certain chair and with pencil, not a pen, in mouth; put the toothbrush on the right-most hook, even when there are never used hooks; must have the toilet roll facing the same way; check the stove twice before leaving the house; whatever it may be. There are some things that make me a little weird and I'm okay with that. I revel in my little bit of weirdness. It makes me unique, one-of-a-kind, it makes me "me." And I love "me." One friend told me I am the most courageous person she knows. Others have told me that they admire me for my ability to try to do (and sometimes succeed in) things no one else would try to do. I am good with this. I am even good with the not-as-desired parts of me, like the night person me who has a hell of a time getting up, is forever in a rush, and sometimes leaves the house with no makeup and maybe even spilled dog water on her pants because she has no time to change; or the me who has way more projects than time; and even the me whose house gets cluttered because I only want to do the things I enjoy and then don't have the energy to put everything away (I admit, I am a piler-but I am not dirty, big difference). I especially love the continually learning me, the adrenaline junkie me, and the me that will try anything that has to do with adventure and travel and doing new, different or difficult things. I love the me that will wholeheartedly jump in with both feet.
