Several times tonight I almost made myself cry. After reading Buck’s blog, I followed a link to Cricket and Porcupine’s blog and read a beautiful story of Thanksgiving. Since Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, I have some great memories like P&C, but the one Thanksgiving that comes to mind was the last one with my Dad. So I went back and read through my November 2005 posts. It was those posts that made me cry, but they made me laugh too. They also made me think I might have been a better writer five years ago.
I did not actually post about Thanksgiving until Friday, December 2, 2005. I had been in WF helping with Dad. It was my first day home in over a week, and it was the day Dad died. My brothers and sister had all been home for Thanksgiving, but had gone back to their own homes. I spent the next week with Mom since Dad was no longer able to get out of bed on his own. Hospice had been called in and was a big help. On Thursday, Dec. 4th, my sister had come back to spend the weekend with Mom and let me go home for a few days. I remember telling her that I did not think Dad would make it through the weekend. She may have thought I was crazy, but I told her that God had shown me that Dad would die very peacefully – just quit breathing. And that is what happened. All the family came pouring back in. This time it was not just our immediate family, but all the uncles, cousins, in-laws, etc. It was almost like having a second Thanksgiving. There was a still lot to be thankful for.
Today, I reached into Dad’s nail apron, which I wear when working on the house and pulled out Dad’s nail punch. Toby needed to pull a nail out, but it was in an odd spot and was difficult to get to with a hammer. Dad always had some crazy tools – he loved having just the right tool when you needed it. He loved collecting funky tools at flea markets and garage sales. Toby used the punch, and it was just what he needed. When he handed it back to me, I held it in my hand for a few minutes before dropping it into my nail apron – just remembering.
4 comments:
Sometimes remembering is a difficult thing. There are times when the tears come, and others when remembrance brings sweetness and joy. I find the further your get from loss the easier things become.
That said, I still regret not being with my father as much as I should have been during his end game. But it was a long way from Detroit to California and there was a living to be made. You were fortunate to be so close to your father, Lou... in every sense of the word.
Buck, I know what you mean about memories - sometimes they are sweet; sometimes they make me weepy. I was fortunate to be living close to Dad at the time of his illness and death, but I worried about my brother in Austin - would he feel guilt for not being there as much? But we each do what we can and what we can live with.
Lou, these are sweet and lovely memories. They help me know your Dad just a wee bit better -- and in doing so, know you, your Mom, Craig, Pete, and Kathy just a wee bit better as well ... and bring my heart that much closer to yours!
Catherine, Dad would have loved you.
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