Remembering Dad

Friday night, May 27, 2005 my father passed quietly from this world. His long battle with various ailments (cancer, heart disease, diabites, stroke) finally came to an end. My sister was there with him and Mom when he slipped away. They told me he had gone to the bathroom and had colapsed there while alone - probably a heart attack. They called 911 and the paramedics did get a heart beat again and took him to the hospital ER though he was not awake. Mom sat with him for about an hour when his heart finally stopped. He never came to, she said.

Now I am thinking back over my life and my relationship with my Dad. I'm thinking about the things I remember about him. To be honest, it's not a lot. I was the oldest of eight kids and for most of my growing up years, Dad was working hard to feed all of us. As a result, he and I never had time to do much together. I don't remember him ever attending any of the sporting events I was in or any of the school functions either. It's not that I resent that, it was just the "normal" thing to do for me. I knew why he wasn't there and I knew that I shouldn't complain because it was best for the family. As the oldest of eight, almost everything you do is overshadowed by "what is good for the family". I still operate in that mode today. I don't regret it. It's just the "right" thing to do. The way things are. There were only a couple of times I can remember doing something with Dad, just him and I. And I don't remember a whole lot about them either.

I know, for instance that he took me hunting a few times once I was old enough. I had already learned about camping and shooting a gun from the Boy Scouts, so he didn't teach me much of anything. Mainly we just walked through the woods together, didn't shoot anything, and then came home.

When I got interested in rock collecting way back in grade school, he took me to a couple of meetings of the Conneticut Valley Rock and Mineral Society (my God! I remembered that name and I haven't thought about it in decades!). Anyway, that group did an annual "rockhound" trip and Dad took time away from his work and the other kids to spend a few days taking me on the trip all the way up into Paris, Maine from our home in Ludlow, Massechusetts. I remember climbing around in a couple of rock quaries with him while we admired specimens that others had found, and I remember digging through the mine tailings with him where we found some small tourmaline (sp?) crystals. I think I still have them somewhere.

I never complained about Dad not doing things with me because I could see how all the rest of the family needed him too and that he had to spread what little time he had at home and away from work over a whole lot of people.

After I left home in the early 1960s, I saw him very seldom since I always lived so far away from them and was always wrapped up in the things I was doing. Starting in about 1984, when I was living in Kansas and he, retired, in New Mexico, Carolyn and I began taking fairly frequent trips to see Mom and Dad. For us, that meant about once a year for a few days. We helped them move to Colorado Springs when Dad's health began the downward spiral. There he would be close to my sister and her family.

Now he is gone. I will still miss him, though perhaps not as much as if I had been around him a lot more. I admired him for his intellect and his knowledge. I still admire his dedication to his wife and children, and to his work. He didn't have much time for hobbies.

I, on the other hand, seem to indulge in hobbies all the time. Perhaps it is because I saw how little time for enjoyment Dad had when we were growing up. I don't know.

I'll see you again some day, Dad. I hope we can have a chance to sit down then and just talk a lot. I'd like that. We never had the chance to before.