Tomorrow is Father's Day, my first one without an earthly father. Dad died in March of this year. Ironically, he never liked Father's Day - considered it a nuisance, a distraction. Dad never was really comfortable receiving things from others. It made him feel awkward, as though he did not deserve it. Today I will remember his dry sense of humor stoic acceptance of his frailties. I will be thankful I have a heavenly Father.
Last week Wandalee died at age 96. I had taken communion to her for several years. Turns out the same priest who married her also married my wife's parents - at the same rural catholic church. She struggled the last year. But even when feeling down, she always asked how I was and about my family. She had a wonderful family, including 22 great grandchildren. They will miss her; I will, too.
But life does go on in Bittersweet Woods. My niece gave birth to a baby girl. We are godparents; the baptism will be in a couple of weeks. Steve, our former neighbor, was married at age 69 to a Thai lady. It will be a new beginning for both of them. Herb, a hiking and trail building friend, is as active ever after a near-disabling tractor rollover accident a year ago. He has a new lease on life, as the saying goes. Today Suz proudly showed me a small flower pot with a formerly dead palm tree - that had amazingly sprouted back to life with four tender shoots.
The natural world goes on, too, with births, deaths, and struggles. We caught a glimpse of such a struggle today. As we drove by a nearby house, there was a 30 second chain reaction drama with a baby bird, a 5 year old boy, and a puppy. The baby bird fluttered in the grass, perhaps hurt. The puppy kept circling the little bird, probably wanting to play with it. The bird's parents squawked and dove at the puppy to keep it away from the bird offspring. The little boy was yelling at the bird parents to keep them off the puppy and at the puppy to keep it from the baby bird. You're probably wondering how this life and death drama (for the bird, that is) came out. We are, too. As we drove on, the scene passed from our view before there was a resolution.
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Dad is Gone
It's been a month today since Dad died on March 30, 2011. He had been weaker and weaker, worn down by multiple afflictions of old age - almost deaf and blind, barely able to walk. His frustration was obvious at times, but he was usually stoic and accepting of his situation. But he was ready to be with the Lord - where he could hear four part harmony sung, see a glistening raindrop on a leaf, and walk briskly along a tree lined street.
We were blessed that he received expert care at the assisted living home where he lived out his final five years. The staff and private duty caregivers provided wonderful, caring support. They became like family. Dad could be stubborn and often private. He was focused on others. Accepting help for himself, especially in personal activities, was not easy. But he was grateful for the help as the realization of his limitations became evident. Caregivers remarked that he always thanked them for even the smallest act of help. They were grateful and often said that others they cared for rarely said thanks.
He lay quietly for several days at the end. Many of the staff and caregivers came in to see him on their own time or at the end of their shift. Most were on our list of those who wanted to know - day or night - when he passed away.
I think back to Dad's life in his own Bittersweet Woods. He was not an outdoor person in the usual sense of the word. But he enjoyed camping when we were kids. We literally saw America from the back of a Ford station wagon. That's where my interest in the outdoors was awakened. He loved working in the yard, plucking out weeds, pruning bushes, and mowing. And for most days for the 50 years running the jewelry store, he walked to work. His route took him along tree lined streets and the past the tranquil Mound Cemetery where he was laid to rest.
"Life goes on in Bittersweet Woods" is a phrase that I have used often. There is a rhythm of cycles and a continuity that goes with the natural world. Now the phrase has a deeper meaning and a reminder that there is continuity in the spiritual world as well.
We were blessed that he received expert care at the assisted living home where he lived out his final five years. The staff and private duty caregivers provided wonderful, caring support. They became like family. Dad could be stubborn and often private. He was focused on others. Accepting help for himself, especially in personal activities, was not easy. But he was grateful for the help as the realization of his limitations became evident. Caregivers remarked that he always thanked them for even the smallest act of help. They were grateful and often said that others they cared for rarely said thanks.
He lay quietly for several days at the end. Many of the staff and caregivers came in to see him on their own time or at the end of their shift. Most were on our list of those who wanted to know - day or night - when he passed away.
I think back to Dad's life in his own Bittersweet Woods. He was not an outdoor person in the usual sense of the word. But he enjoyed camping when we were kids. We literally saw America from the back of a Ford station wagon. That's where my interest in the outdoors was awakened. He loved working in the yard, plucking out weeds, pruning bushes, and mowing. And for most days for the 50 years running the jewelry store, he walked to work. His route took him along tree lined streets and the past the tranquil Mound Cemetery where he was laid to rest.
"Life goes on in Bittersweet Woods" is a phrase that I have used often. There is a rhythm of cycles and a continuity that goes with the natural world. Now the phrase has a deeper meaning and a reminder that there is continuity in the spiritual world as well.
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