That's how long it has been since my dad died suddenly of a massive heart attack, Jan. 3rd, 1996. I wrote one of my first blog posts about him last year. I last saw him about twelve hours before he died. Strangely enough, we were at a reception following a memorial service for a family friend who had died the week before. My dad was a very shy and unassuming man, but that afternoon he beckoned me over to sit by him and proceeded to initiate the most intimate conversation we had ever had. It was wonderful. When he got up to leave, I remember taking note of how frail he looked. Then in the middle of the night I got a phone call from my brother, saying that he had died.I often wonder if he knew his time was short. At any rate, that afternoon was a priceless gift. I had lost my infant daughter less than two years earlier, and I was a month away from giving birth to my youngest child. I was emotionally fragile, but I also think that the veil that separates the world we live in from that which we cannot see was pretty thin for me at that time, and perhaps he sensed that.
Tonight, to remember him, I read my daughter two short stories by James Thurber that my dad used to read to me for bedtime stories -- The Dog That Bit People and The Night the Ghost Got In. (He had an interesting idea of what constituted a good bedtime story.)
I miss him.
7 comments:
Your dad was a very interesting and cool guy. It hardly seems possible that it has been twelve years since he died. I felt like, even though I had been around him for years, I was just beginning to get to know him. It doesn't seem unreasonable to think that he could still be alive had things been different, for instance the medication he was taking. When I think about him, it feels like a great loss, particularly in the light of losing my father this year. Your father was a good man and will be remembered fondly by all who knew him.
We are all the poorer for the death of the generation that came before us.
Thank you for describing the last time you were with your dad. Precious. Thank you for the picture and writing about him, too.
what a nice small and moving tribute (yes tribute) to your dad
i am sure he looks out for you every day
Your beautiful post brought tears to my eyes. My Dad died in '95. I understand how you treasure your last memories of being with your Dad. No matter how old we are, when we lose a parent, we feel like orphans. It's wonderful that you can pass along your Dad's traditions to his grandchildren.
As I have become a veterinarian and practiced, there have been a number of people who have taught me things. Sometimes I don't realize it until much later when I am placed in a particular situation. As I read this post, I was reminded, again, of the two times I met your dad at the UW Student health clinic, back in the 70's. At the time, I was having some health issues that scared me. He was calm. He listened. He didn't rush me. These are skills that have helped me become a better clinician. These are skills that help others become better humans.
Another wonderful post, Suzy. What kind of ink do you use in your pen? That sentence about "the veil that separates the world we live in from that which we cannot see" needs to become a song. Yes, that generation has flown away, and now we have taken its place.
Your dad was such a special person, and sometimes when I talk to you I see him in the shadows of your humor and kindness. I'm not surprised that he loved Thurber.
Post a Comment