My Dads Journey

Dad is a tough old bird. Kind of like three day old turkey after Thanksgiving. You knew how delicious it was the day of the dinner, heck even after two more additional meals. The third day however, you began to have your doubts it still tasted good and had value.

Dad is 93 years old. I say old now, well, because he is. He is no longer the twenty six year old man that turned my fifteen year old Mothers head. They met, fell in love instantly, and because of the the hard times Moms parents had during the depression, they allowed them to marry. That was sixty five years ago. Those sixty five years sure went fast. I have been around for sixty four of them. I am the their second daughter. Dad had a daughter from a previous marriage, who we all know and love dearly, but with Mom created five more humans. Four girls and one boy. Luckily my siblings are all alive and well. I often wonder through the years who will be the first to go. Go as into the other side. It is a sobering thought, and me being me, always thought if it was a volunteer situation I would happily do it so my siblings could go on. No doubt if they knew it would ease their minds somewhat as we are all starting to experience some sort of physical ailment. Nothing life threatening, just the usual things like knees, blood pressure and the likes of that.

I have to say I am somewhat thinking different now. So selfish of me eh?

Dad is in good health I would say. At the ripe age of 93, he was just diagnosed with diabetes. He happily ate anything and everything he wanted during those 92 years. He had and still does quite the sweet tooth. Mom on the other hand wasn't as fortunate. As Mom aged, his dietary habits were ones we had to advise her to refrain from. She has tried through the years but still maintains that McDonalds and Doctor Pepper is her go to meal and also one that he loves.

Dad's journey is a remarkable one to say the least. He has had an illustrious career as a fireman, retiring many years ago. He had many lives saved to his unfailing call of duty and many articles were written in the local paper proclaiming his heroism. He once saved a man from drowning in the Barge Canal while off duty. He saved a little boy from burning up in a fire. There were photos of him and that little boy in the paper, locked up in a file my Mom painstakingly kept during his working years. I remember once when I was about 12 or 13, I watched as my father, along with a neighbor, who was also a fireman walk into a burning one-story building to save whoever it was inside. I can still picture the flames rushing out of the broken windows, the roar of the fire, the murmur of other neighbors watching from a safe distance. This took place just around the corner in the alleyway from our family home. I turned to my mom who was standing behind me pleading with her to tell him not to go in. She smiled and said It will be all right honey. Your Dad knows what he is doing. You know what, she was right. He did. He brought out a man who was weak from the flames with soot flooding out of his nose. As Dad lowered the man onto the ground I broke free from my Mom. Running over to Dad I asked if the man was dead. No was his response but he does have carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire. Dad and his co-worker proceeded to hook up oxygen to him. Yes the man lived. Another life saved.

Dad had many funny euphuisms he shared through the years. Some were quite funny and left me in peals of incredulous laughter that something so odd would come out of his mouth. Things like "someone has to love more in the relationship, don't let it be you" or

"Familiarity breeds contempt" Oddly enough both ring true in my life. I just suffered my third divorce. I remember once many years ago I was contemplating my soon to be second divorce. Dad walked around the path to my three seasons room as I sat doing paperwork from my flower shop. It was a warm summer day and I felt pleasantly surprised Dad came out to visit me. Little did I know just how mad he was. Glaring at me from outside the room, he asked me what the hell was I thinking? Looking just as intensely back I demanded to know what he was talking about. Narrowing his eyes he asked do you really think any man is going to want you? A divorced woman with three young kids? Outraged I calmly stated back Dad, I don't want anyone based on the fact I have three kids. I will take care of my old children. Being in another relationship is the last thing on my mind. Keeping home for my three daughters one they have happily spent the past five years in is my top priority now. With that, shaking his head in disbelief Dad turned and left.

I kept that house. My girls all graduated from high school in that house. It was a struggle, but I did it. With no help from anyone I paid the mortgage, the insurance and kept the lights on. The day I sold it was the day I cried.

Dad shared many things with me through the years. Some things he probably shouldn't have but that was between us. He used to tell me I was the boy he always wanted. Sorry brother, you were too young and small at that time to go with him to the club to empty the one armed bandit from all its dimes on Sunday morning. Too young to catch that fast softball pitch in practice on East North Street. Once after he threw the ball so hard the ball popped out of my mitt he had to drop his mitt, run over and massage my hand because it was glaringly red and hurting from that pitch.

Now that Dad is 93 his fears of dying are often on his mind. Of course, my sisters and brother are also worried about this. We often talk in exaggerated whispers which parent would die first. No doubt either one will break us and bring us all to our knees.

I can remember once when Dad was 72 he would say I'd gladly sign the papers at 73. Turning to him, again in an effort to outdo him as Daddy's little girl do, I said Oh yeah, well if I'm 84 I will gladly sign the papers at 85. Dad smiled. Laughingly he said oh yeah? Let me know about that when you are 84. Lets see how you feel then.

You got me Dad. Don't sign those papers.