The last time I ever saw my Dad - and why it guides me to this day

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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(This is another one of my "Ed stories". Every word of it is true. If you'd like, take a gander...)

Over a decade ago now, my dad started his own cancer battles - initially prostate (fought with implanting
the "nuclear seeds" method), followed by lung (removal of a chunk of one, followed by chemo) and
eventually, spreading all over in the end - and we learned about the "cyberknife"...

This was all before I started down my own path with similar sh-- (I'd only had basal cell stuff prior), so it
was disheartening - no, check that, it was downright infuriating at times, to watch - as supposed cancer
expert after expert took their turn and I got a real up-close view of the practice of medicine (that word is
very appropriate to the medical industry, come to find out - we're all the subjects of medical experiments).

Basically, my dad was one of the first in this region to have the cyberknife stuff tried on him - with resulting
frequent faux pas and seemingly almost experimental techniques often employed.
They literally were using him and others like him as human guinea pigs as they became more well versed in
newer techniques and that pissed me off no end, especially given the lack of success vs. what we were often
"told" would happen.
They made mistakes with it - often - and sometimes he even came out the worse for the treatments.

In the end, his battle was a decade long and one in which his will to live was slowly drained of him...
and I watched a formerly proud and strong self-reliant man reduced to a weak subject to the whims of what
I'd refer to as "medical leeches", all taking their shots at him, draining him of money and will to live.
Reminded me of buzzards picking at the bones on the side of the road, it really did.
Life for him had become not much more than being transported to locations on appointments, being subjected
to treatments without question, then going back home and trying to recover enough to start the next one.
When I'd try to intervene or discuss it with him, his wife would intercept and he'd acquiesce, not wanting to
stir things up in his home.
I understood - but I didn't like it. Not one bit.
So, anyways....

When he was laying in the local hospital ICU that last fateful day, surrounded by machines and all sorts of
hangers-on (both private life and hospital staff) it wasn't anything new to behold when my wife and I arrived,
having been summoned yet again on his behalf....or at least I didn't think it was anything new at first....
I go in to speak to him...and instead, he's awake and he catches me off-guard by saying "don't you ever quit, hear?"

(There was a bit of tension in the room, admittedly- he and I had our petty differences in later years, for which
I am eternally ashamed; they weren't in hindsight anything other than territorial spats really and I should have
been better for my part, even though I truly am my fathers' son and come naturally by being the way I am.
Regardless, of the three surviving kids at the time, I was the only one who was with him in his last years, the
others being "too busy" to come see him much towards the end).


Now, Pop had said that to me before over recent years (he was referring to his decision to retire early, deservedly
so - he'd been the breadwinner for his mama, and then eventually his own family, since he was 14).
This time, though, he damn near stared right through me, those eyes having an intensity to them that got my
full attention like only a dad can...
"Don't you EVER quit, hear?"
It occurred to me this was him calling his own ticket, taking charge finally after all those years, deciding it was
time to call the whole thing off on his "appointment" schedule, not somebody else's.

All pretense left the room at that point and all the noise and commotion going on around us seemed to fade into
the background for me; all I could do was focus on Pop.
"Yes, sir" was all I could manage in response - and in retrospect, all I should have responded with.
Flabbergasted, I wandered back out into the hallway adjacent and allow all the commotion to resume....

I update my wife on what's going on, trying to put on a brave face for her - and yes, even for Pops' then-wife,
whom I affectionately referred to as the "evil stepmother" (that's another story...).
At the same time, I keep peering back into the room, never leaving sight of being able to watch my dad -
because I felt like our exchange wasn't the last of it that day - for whatever reason, I knew more was coming
from him.

Sure enough, a little bit later I feel his gaze on me even though there's some distance (and a lot of activity)
between he and I - in the middle of all that fuss, he's locked onto me with that look.
I walk away from whoever was speaking with me and head straight back into the room, having been summoned
without hearing a word...

Pops' gaze now is as intense as before - but it had a vulnerability to it too this time - and he says the words that
absolutely crush me:
"Tell them to stop".
I stammer out something like "Huh? What are you talking about Pop, you know the drill.
They gotta do all this stuff so you can go home tomorrow...."
He grabs my arm to shush me and says it again, slower and with more intensity this time:
"Tell...them....to...stop".

(If there's a more memorable moment in my life than that one, I can't think of it.
Total deflation at that point.
Damn.
Just.....damn.)


He was calling his own shot - and all I knew was I was being given marching orders - orders I instantly became
hellbent on following exactly as he wanted.
"Yes sir"...
I came back out of that room to the group of family and my wife in the hallway, but I guess any pretense I may
have been able to summon before had vanished and my "brave face" was totally gone.
Wife and I locked eyes and she knew instantly...
Evil stepmother, not so much (she always was a flighty one)...
I grabbed her arm and stopped her from rushing back into the room, looked her dead in the eye and said "this
is HIS call - last thing he needs is you falling apart on him right now, we have work to do".
She didn't like any of that.
Tough ****...

I looked back in the room one last time and there was Pop staring right at me, as if to confirm and cement
his wishes to me, making sure I was doing what he wanted me to.
From across that distance of the hall and room, I mouthed the words "are we ok, Pop?"
(tensions - remember?)

His stare softened a bit and he mouthed back "we're fine, son."
(I had never - still haven't - felt so damn helpless in my life than at that point).

Pop waves his hand at me from that bed, like "go on now, you got work to do".

I followed orders....and that was the last time I ever saw him alive.
Pop went home that night and passed on in his own bed the next morning as he wished - about 5am.

Once I had taken charge of the disposition of his "estate" (he left no will, the stubborn old cuss) at the
request of evil stepmother and settled all that, it wasn't much later on that I began my own knockdown
drag-out war with cancer myself...it's been 11 years now since my first "serious" one and a total of
(6) times so far.
I've managed to flatline 3 other times, too.
I can tell you all about dying - been there, done that, remember it vividly (and the TV shows are horseshit BTW).
Heard my own flatline tone on the monitor, which is both at once creepy and oddly fascinating, least to me.

The cancers, though?
They have been handled entirely different with me than with Pop.
I have learned so many lessons through Pops' ordeal and rather than become another guinea pig, I've
become quite active in researching and calling my own shots.
If the evil **** cancer winds up taking me, then it's going to be on my terms.
I will not wind up at the mercy of others to determine what I am subjected to, endure, undergo...
I'm convinced that mindset is why I'm still this side of the dirt.

"Don't you EVER quit"
"Get back up, EVERY time"
Yes sir, Pop.
pop aries swing porch.jpg
 

Tinker67

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Ed, another fantastic read... I can relate fully; my pop has been gone only 6 yrs. I knew when I saw your post to 'PlymCrazy' Loss of John Rehberg, that a story from you would soon be coming. Thanks:)
 

moparedtn

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Ed, another fantastic read... I can relate fully; my pop has been gone only 6 yrs. I knew when I saw your post to 'PlymCrazy' Loss of John Rehberg, that a story from you would soon be coming. Thanks:)
First, God love ya man - losing Pop is the worst; least, I can't think of anything worse.
Yeah thank you - I have to get real quiet (middle of the night typically, since I wake up at like 2-3am anymore)
and in the right mood to write some of that stuff.
I've always given the caveat with them that I'm basically writing a journal of sorts, for the cathartic value of it -
but if anyone else likes it, that's icing on the cake too - and very much appreciated. :thumbsup:
 

PlymCrazy

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What a story that is sir. Sounds like you've reflected on this for quite some time, as well as being observant and diligent to learn where you have obviously been called to. I know I never knew your father, but as I hear more about him and contrast that with what you post on here I'd say the apple didn't fall far from the tree indeed. Might I say I'm proud of the way you represent him, and represent him well. I can only hope to do the same as time goes on myself. The last decade or so with pops I wish I could have been different. I felt the sting of bitterness and stubbornness as I loved him from afar with countless attempts to "reach across the fence" and encourage him, as I was always reminded that tomorrow may not come.

Two truths resound to me at the moment that I've been taught in the past. Particularly, in light of what you just shared:

1) "Nick, tomorrow is a dangerous word because it often leads to never"
2) "Nick, let me spend 15 minutes with your children and I'll write a book about you"

Continue to be the man you are and never quit. That has been forged in you from the sounds of it. This world is a better place with you in it. Thank you.
 

Dad's69RR

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Man what a powerful read! I cannot express the emotions that overtake me when I read anything about Dad’s!

I know relationships are different and we lose them in different ways but, what is the same, is the daily struggle filling the massive void in our hearts. Think of them every second and try to figure out how to match or take over their strength and guidance. I am almost 50 and unexpectedly lost a best friend, mentor, coach, and hero all at the same time at only 65 years old. The cliche of time heals wounds is BS. It is learning how to deal with him being with you in a different way and accepting it! This has been a struggle even 5years later.

Ed keep up your fight and never quit! Everything you learned from your Pop’s situation hopefully will help you win the war! Thank you for your story.
 

Roger63

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Great story Ed, the thing that gets under my skin in a good way is the treatment. Not for me but for others, I go every 3rd week on a Friday and the room has 30 treatment stations in it. Everyone is hooked up to an IV, some with 2 bags and others up to 4 bags at once. I'm lucky as I'm only there for about 45 minutes. Others are there for 2-8 hours. Some have no hair some are discolored some are frail and weak some are on their last treatment. The last time I went I overheard a lady checking in ahead of me declare to the nurse, this is it if this doesn't work I quit. It broke my heart and I felt guilty at the same time. My success was failing her. I did manage to speak with her a little later to try to understand why. She is a rather pretty lady and for all she's been through in pretty good shape. I didn't get all the details but she some form of vaginal cancer. A 4 year battle and won't stop. We all have it, they just don't know what triggers in some but not others. I try very hard to brighten everyone's day when I go by bringing treats and snacks for the patients and staff. I walk around the room dragging my IV tree with talking with people that have become friends just to try and make their day a little better. Your father knew he was going to lose, but did it his way. I hope when the time comes I can do the same.
 

moparedtn

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I feel ya. Keep fighting man.
You bet. I was just saying this to my wife last night - that ultimately, each one of us has a "job" on this planet
and that is to fight like hell to stay alive, so that we can do what He wants us to - and that only He can pull the
plug...so I just keep getting back up, like I'm supposed to.

What a story that is sir. Sounds like you've reflected on this for quite some time, as well as being observant and diligent to learn where you have obviously been called to. I know I never knew your father, but as I hear more about him and contrast that with what you post on here I'd say the apple didn't fall far from the tree indeed. Might I say I'm proud of the way you represent him, and represent him well. I can only hope to do the same as time goes on myself. The last decade or so with pops I wish I could have been different. I felt the sting of bitterness and stubbornness as I loved him from afar with countless attempts to "reach across the fence" and encourage him, as I was always reminded that tomorrow may not come.

Two truths resound to me at the moment that I've been taught in the past. Particularly, in light of what you just shared:

1) "Nick, tomorrow is a dangerous word because it often leads to never"
2) "Nick, let me spend 15 minutes with your children and I'll write a book about you"

Continue to be the man you are and never quit. That has been forged in you from the sounds of it. This world is a better place with you in it. Thank you.
Damn, you humble me all over the place here my friend...
I ain't anybody to this world, I know. Heck, I'm damn near the last in my family still standing.
I've not always been that great of a person, still ain't really - just trying to be now is all....
and now I know you will honor your father similarly and make him proud, too. :thumbsup:
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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Man what a powerful read! I cannot express the emotions that overtake me when I read anything about Dad’s!

I know relationships are different and we lose them in different ways but, what is the same, is the daily struggle filling the massive void in our hearts. Think of them every second and try to figure out how to match or take over their strength and guidance. I am almost 50 and unexpectedly lost a best friend, mentor, coach, and hero all at the same time at only 65 years old. The cliche of time heals wounds is BS. It is learning how to deal with him being with you in a different way and accepting it! This has been a struggle even 5years later.

Ed keep up your fight and never quit! Everything you learned from your Pop’s situation hopefully will help you win the war! Thank you for your story.
I am very sorry to learn of your loss as well sir. You are dead on about time supposedly healing wounds, too -
there's a dulling of the sharp edges over time maybe, but there ain't no healing going on - ever.

Only thing I can't agree with your gracious post is that the "war" is winnable. It isn't, of course - but we can
do our best to fight it out to the finish He has dictated and not cut it off short of our own doing.
What's the old saying?
Heaven don't want me and the Devil is afraid I'll take over. Where the heck am I going?:lol:
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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Great story Ed, the thing that gets under my skin in a good way is the treatment. Not for me but for others, I go every 3rd week on a Friday and the room has 30 treatment stations in it. Everyone is hooked up to an IV, some with 2 bags and others up to 4 bags at once. I'm lucky as I'm only there for about 45 minutes. Others are there for 2-8 hours. Some have no hair some are discolored some are frail and weak some are on their last treatment. The last time I went I overheard a lady checking in ahead of me declare to the nurse, this is it if this doesn't work I quit. It broke my heart and I felt guilty at the same time. My success was failing her. I did manage to speak with her a little later to try to understand why. She is a rather pretty lady and for all she's been through in pretty good shape. I didn't get all the details but she some form of vaginal cancer. A 4 year battle and won't stop. We all have it, they just don't know what triggers in some but not others. I try very hard to brighten everyone's day when I go by bringing treats and snacks for the patients and staff. I walk around the room dragging my IV tree with talking with people that have become friends just to try and make their day a little better. Your father knew he was going to lose, but did it his way. I hope when the time comes I can do the same.
I knew I saw a halo around your noggin, my friend! Legit good soul, right there.

Yes, the kidney dialysis centers my work takes me to sometimes strikes me the same way - my God, such a
meat market sort of approach in those places! They always tell me, the vendor, to avoid interaction with the
patients while I'm in there, to do my job and get out.
Well, this is Ed and I'm missing a kidney myself and will one day join them in treatment as a result, so....

Damn straight I spend time with 'em. As much as they like. It's what we as fellow humans are supposed to do, right?
 

guy gadbois

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(This is another one of my "Ed stories". Every word of it is true. If you'd like, take a gander...)

Over a decade ago now, my dad started his own cancer battles - initially prostate (fought with implanting
the "nuclear seeds" method), followed by lung (removal of a chunk of one, followed by chemo) and
eventually, spreading all over in the end - and we learned about the "cyberknife"...

This was all before I started down my own path with similar sh-- (I'd only had basal cell stuff prior), so it
was disheartening - no, check that, it was downright infuriating at times, to watch - as supposed cancer
expert after expert took their turn and I got a real up-close view of the practice of medicine (that word is
very appropriate to the medical industry, come to find out - we're all the subjects of medical experiments).

Basically, my dad was one of the first in this region to have the cyberknife stuff tried on him - with resulting
frequent faux pas and seemingly almost experimental techniques often employed.
They literally were using him and others like him as human guinea pigs as they became more well versed in
newer techniques and that pissed me off no end, especially given the lack of success vs. what we were often
"told" would happen.
They made mistakes with it - often - and sometimes he even came out the worse for the treatments.

In the end, his battle was a decade long and one in which his will to live was slowly drained of him...
and I watched a formerly proud and strong self-reliant man reduced to a weak subject to the whims of what
I'd refer to as "medical leeches", all taking their shots at him, draining him of money and will to live.
Reminded me of buzzards picking at the bones on the side of the road, it really did.
Life for him had become not much more than being transported to locations on appointments, being subjected
to treatments without question, then going back home and trying to recover enough to start the next one.
When I'd try to intervene or discuss it with him, his wife would intercept and he'd acquiesce, not wanting to
stir things up in his home.
I understood - but I didn't like it. Not one bit.
So, anyways....

When he was laying in the local hospital ICU that last fateful day, surrounded by machines and all sorts of
hangers-on (both private life and hospital staff) it wasn't anything new to behold when my wife and I arrived,
having been summoned yet again on his behalf....or at least I didn't think it was anything new at first....
I go in to speak to him...and instead, he's awake and he catches me off-guard by saying "don't you ever quit, hear?"

(There was a bit of tension in the room, admittedly- he and I had our petty differences in later years, for which
I am eternally ashamed; they weren't in hindsight anything other than territorial spats really and I should have
been better for my part, even though I truly am my fathers' son and come naturally by being the way I am.
Regardless, of the three surviving kids at the time, I was the only one who was with him in his last years, the
others being "too busy" to come see him much towards the end).


Now, Pop had said that to me before over recent years (he was referring to his decision to retire early, deservedly
so - he'd been the breadwinner for his mama, and then eventually his own family, since he was 14).
This time, though, he damn near stared right through me, those eyes having an intensity to them that got my
full attention like only a dad can...
"Don't you EVER quit, hear?"
It occurred to me this was him calling his own ticket, taking charge finally after all those years, deciding it was
time to call the whole thing off on his "appointment" schedule, not somebody else's.

All pretense left the room at that point and all the noise and commotion going on around us seemed to fade into
the background for me; all I could do was focus on Pop.
"Yes, sir" was all I could manage in response - and in retrospect, all I should have responded with.
Flabbergasted, I wandered back out into the hallway adjacent and allow all the commotion to resume....

I update my wife on what's going on, trying to put on a brave face for her - and yes, even for Pops' then-wife,
whom I affectionately referred to as the "evil stepmother" (that's another story...).
At the same time, I keep peering back into the room, never leaving sight of being able to watch my dad -
because I felt like our exchange wasn't the last of it that day - for whatever reason, I knew more was coming
from him.

Sure enough, a little bit later I feel his gaze on me even though there's some distance (and a lot of activity)
between he and I - in the middle of all that fuss, he's locked onto me with that look.
I walk away from whoever was speaking with me and head straight back into the room, having been summoned
without hearing a word...

Pops' gaze now is as intense as before - but it had a vulnerability to it too this time - and he says the words that
absolutely crush me:
"Tell them to stop".
I stammer out something like "Huh? What are you talking about Pop, you know the drill.
They gotta do all this stuff so you can go home tomorrow...."
He grabs my arm to shush me and says it again, slower and with more intensity this time:
"Tell...them....to...stop".

(If there's a more memorable moment in my life than that one, I can't think of it.
Total deflation at that point.
Damn.
Just.....damn.)


He was calling his own shot - and all I knew was I was being given marching orders - orders I instantly became
hellbent on following exactly as he wanted.
"Yes sir"...
I came back out of that room to the group of family and my wife in the hallway, but I guess any pretense I may
have been able to summon before had vanished and my "brave face" was totally gone.
Wife and I locked eyes and she knew instantly...
Evil stepmother, not so much (she always was a flighty one)...
I grabbed her arm and stopped her from rushing back into the room, looked her dead in the eye and said "this
is HIS call - last thing he needs is you falling apart on him right now, we have work to do".
She didn't like any of that.
Tough ****...

I looked back in the room one last time and there was Pop staring right at me, as if to confirm and cement
his wishes to me, making sure I was doing what he wanted me to.
From across that distance of the hall and room, I mouthed the words "are we ok, Pop?"
(tensions - remember?)

His stare softened a bit and he mouthed back "we're fine, son."
(I had never - still haven't - felt so damn helpless in my life than at that point).

Pop waves his hand at me from that bed, like "go on now, you got work to do".

I followed orders....and that was the last time I ever saw him alive.
Pop went home that night and passed on in his own bed the next morning as he wished - about 5am.

Once I had taken charge of the disposition of his "estate" (he left no will, the stubborn old cuss) at the
request of evil stepmother and settled all that, it wasn't much later on that I began my own knockdown
drag-out war with cancer myself...it's been 11 years now since my first "serious" one and a total of
(6) times so far.
I've managed to flatline 3 other times, too.
I can tell you all about dying - been there, done that, remember it vividly (and the TV shows are horseshit BTW).
Heard my own flatline tone on the monitor, which is both at once creepy and oddly fascinating, least to me.

The cancers, though?
They have been handled entirely different with me than with Pop.
I have learned so many lessons through Pops' ordeal and rather than become another guinea pig, I've
become quite active in researching and calling my own shots.
If the evil **** cancer winds up taking me, then it's going to be on my terms.
I will not wind up at the mercy of others to determine what I am subjected to, endure, undergo...
I'm convinced that mindset is why I'm still this side of the dirt.

"Don't you EVER quit"
"Get back up, EVERY time"
Yes sir, Pop.
View attachment 1357334
Damn onions...
 

69 Sleeper Bee

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I was just fixing to ask which one of you bastards was cutting up raw onions while I am trying to enjoy another "Story time with Ed" but @guy gadbois treed me :)
Thanks Ed you have no idea how much it helps to read your insights and although I am dealing with my wife's cancer and she just told them to stop as the cancer has spread to her brain and it is just a matter of time now. She just wanted to go home and I can't blame her for feeling that way.
 

Roger63

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I was just fixing to ask which one of you bastards was cutting up raw onions while I am trying to enjoy another "Story time with Ed" but @guy gadbois treed me :)
Thanks Ed you have no idea how much it helps to read your insights and although I am dealing with my wife's cancer and she just told them to stop as the cancer has spread to her brain and it is just a matter of time now. She just wanted to go home and I can't blame her for feeling that way.
I'm so sorry sir.
 

moparedtn

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I was just fixing to ask which one of you bastards was cutting up raw onions while I am trying to enjoy another "Story time with Ed" but @guy gadbois treed me :)
Thanks Ed you have no idea how much it helps to read your insights and although I am dealing with my wife's cancer and she just told them to stop as the cancer has spread to her brain and it is just a matter of time now. She just wanted to go home and I can't blame her for feeling that way.
Prayers for you folks, sir - yes, by all means get her home and comfortable.
We all deserve that basic dignity when it's our time - and trust me, I've been warming up in that
particular bullpen before.
God bless and keep you folks!
 

James Hogan

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I ******* hate cancer. It just takes over your whole life. AND IT TAKES ALL OF YOUR DIGNITY.
 

moparedtn

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I ******* hate cancer. It just takes over your whole life. AND IT TAKES ALL OF YOUR DIGNITY.
It sure can brother - usually does.
In my case though, I just get back up in its' face.
Yes, it's a futile effort, I recognize - but it's the only way I can stay positive about fighting the ****.
I personalize it, like it's a human thing I'm fighting - and I give it hell, same way it gives it to me.
They'll be planting one pissed off human in the ground when it finally gets me, that's for sure. :)
 

James Hogan

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It sure can brother - usually does.
In my case though, I just get back up in its' face.
Yes, it's a futile effort, I recognize - but it's the only way I can stay positive about fighting the ****.
I personalize it, like it's a human thing I'm fighting - and I give it hell, same way it gives it to me.
They'll be planting one pissed off human in the ground when it finally gets me, that's for
 

74gtx

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You got me again Ed. The way you can put things into words is amazing to me. Cancer is a horrible sickness. I’ve had several friends pass in there early fifties from it. it scares the **** out of me. I’ve been a smoker since I was 14 and I feel at this point it’s too late to make a difference if I change my ways. Thank yo again for sharing another great story. God bless you. Mike
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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You got me again Ed. The way you can put things into words is amazing to me. Cancer is a horrible sickness. I’ve had several friends pass in there early fifties from it. it scares the **** out of me. I’ve been a smoker since I was 14 and I feel at this point it’s too late to make a difference if I change my ways. Thank yo again for sharing another great story. God bless you. Mike
Thank you very much Mike - but now, listen to me here:
as the "experts" around me keep preaching, any time you decide to quit makes a difference. :thumbsup:

Ed mini-story time:
I just thought about this thread today and decided to have a look, even though this site's notification system
hadn't alerted me in days about new comments.
Glad I did. :)
Now - why was I thinking of this thread? A couple of reasons...

There's folks who don't believe in such things - Lord knows, Pop sure didn't - but I have had occurances of
"visits" from loved ones that have passed on.
If you're one of them, kindly mosey along - but know I was one of you for half my life, so I'm not
judging at all...

I have been visited, though - at very few, but very significant and specific times in my life.
Mama came by to check on me after she died because she knew I was having a really hard time with it for
a number of reasons (this was 30 years ago, mind you).
Little brother Joey did the same after he passed as well (1999), same deal. Really hard time...
The Big Man himself came to set me straight the first time I flatlined in the ER, too.
You'd figure that such a thing would be monumental - but at the time, I just got a little cross with Him. :)
It all worked out though, obviously...

The name you'll notice I haven't mentioned in all this was Pop...
He not being the emotional or even spiritual type in life, rather no-nonsense (but with a wicked sense of
humor) you'd not figure him to be the sort of spirit to go messin' with people after he passed - at least,
I never expected him to be, anyways...

Given that it's been a pretty rough couple of weeks health-wise for me, with some not-so-encouraging
diagnosis lately though - I've been sort of tail-draggin' and out of gas these last several days.
Part of the "new me" deal is that I tend to find the floor unexpectedly once in a while - quickly, out of
the blue. Just happens, the result of lousy blood issues.
Not often, just once in a while mind you.
Part of the "new me", you know...

Had one of those just the last couple days, right out of the shower.
Bam. Lard-*** down, lard-*** down!
As I was trying to get my **** back together and my wife was rushing into the bathroom, though -
there he was, clear as day.
I figured he'd be all consoling and encouraging - you know, the supportive, spirit-y sort of thing.
Wrong.
Pop is still Pop, after all.
He stares right in my eyes and says real quiet-like "get back up, son".
Without missing a beat, I reply "Yes sir"...

With that, he was gone - replaced by my wife, who was helping me up.
She having witnessed nothing but my replying to Pop, just looked at me and said "I told you he'd
be here when you needed him."

Yes ma'am. :)
 
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