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

SteveSS

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I don't mean to be morbid but right now my main goal in life is to leave as much as I can to my kids. I've already told them if I'm in bad shape give me 10 Fentanyl pills. The LAST thing I want to do is languish in a hospital or old folks home as the bills eat up my entire life savings.
 

PlymCrazy

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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. :)
Ed, I had no idea of the severity of the “new-you” health as of late. Forgive me if I may have overlooked it in any of your recent posts. Thanks for chiming back in. You definitely are a blessing to have around this place. And glad you’re back up off the floor, seriously.
- Nick
 

moparedtn

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Ed, I had no idea of the severity of the “new-you” health as of late. Forgive me if I may have overlooked it in any of your recent posts. Thanks for chiming back in. You definitely are a blessing to have around this place. And glad you’re back up off the floor, seriously.
- Nick
No worries man, what's left still works - sort of. It's become more of a "grab the straggler problem
and reel it back in" sort of medical plan - but that only works if there's a stable core body to reel it back in to.
If I behave and do everything I'm supposed to, it's still pretty ok. :)
Ain't no "fixing" at this point, there's only "ride it out long as you can".

Sort of reminds me of Uncle Ellis in No Country for Old Men:


"After a while, you just try to get a tourniquet on it."
Oh - and the falling **** is more annoying than anything else. It never damages me much. :thumbsup:
You can bet I maximize my intake of everything I'm supposed to before venturing out, especially in Fred...
God bless ya for those kind words, I really appreciate it - I just sort of hope me writing this stuff might help
another somewhere down the line maybe?
 

PlymCrazy

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No worries man, what's left still works - sort of. It's become more of a "grab the straggler problem
and reel it back in" sort of medical plan - but that only works if there's a stable core body to reel it back in to.
If I behave and do everything I'm supposed to, it's still pretty ok. :)
Ain't no "fixing" at this point, there's only "ride it out long as you can".

Sort of reminds me of Uncle Ellis in No Country for Old Men:


"After a while, you just try to get a tourniquet on it."
Oh - and the falling **** is more annoying than anything else. It never damages me much. :thumbsup:
You can bet I maximize my intake of everything I'm supposed to before venturing out, especially in Fred...
God bless ya for those kind words, I really appreciate it - I just sort of hope me writing this stuff might help
another somewhere down the line maybe?

The first that thing that comes to mind in response to that is "we're not here to see through one another, but to see one another through". I definitely walk away encouraged by much of what you share.
So mission accomplished, referring to your last statement. :thumbsup:
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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The first that thing that comes to mind in response to that is "we're not here to see through one another, but to see one another through". I definitely walk away encouraged by much of what you share.
So mission accomplished, referring to your last statement. :thumbsup:
Wise words, right there. You "get it" - you already know the answer to the most-asked question in history:
"Why am I here?"
Overly-simplified perhaps, but it takes a long time for some to come to the realization that we're here - for
each other!
It really is that simple...
Would that more realized that (or were able to keep it in mind in times of stress).
 

Gus chiggins

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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
My story is short. The last time i saw my dad was at Hines VA hospital in Maywood Ill. I was eight years old. He died three months later of cancer in feb 1964, he just turned forty. WW2 veteran 42nd Infantry division.
 

PlymCrazy

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My story is short. The last time i saw my dad was at Hines VA hospital in Maywood Ill. I was eight years old. He died three months later of cancer in feb 1964, he just turned forty. WW2 veteran 42nd Infantry division.
On behalf of not only the sacrifice your father made for this country, but also to your family that sacrificed by losing him so young…

The freedom and liberty I’ve known growing up and living in this country, and now also my children, we owe to men your such as your dad…

Thank you sir
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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On behalf of not only the sacrifice your father made for this country, but also to your family that sacrificed by losing him so young…

The freedom and liberty I’ve known growing up and living in this country, and now also my children, we owe to men your such as your dad…

Thank you sir
Amen and seconded. @Gus chiggins
 

440plus6

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God bless you, Sir.

I cannot begin to tell you how many things you have touched on in this thread that have stopped me in my tracks. Maybe someday I may be able to write of them as eloquently as you do.
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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God bless you, Sir.

I cannot begin to tell you how many things you have touched on in this thread that have stopped me in my tracks. Maybe someday I may be able to write of them as eloquently as you do.
God love ya, I appreciate that very much! :thumbsup:
 

junior340

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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
Thank you for sharing
 

1STMP

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Ed,
Wonderfully written remberance. I feel
the pain and loss of someone who
loved you.
Words cannot express the bond
between father and son when it's
based on mutual trust, devotion,
and love.
My father died 33 years ago when
I was just 35 years old. Alcoholism
can be just as devastating as cancer
as his affliction literally destroyed
3 families, alienated all of his
children, and splintered their future
relationships.
I am happy to see you and your father
had a relationship that warranted
special mention.
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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Ed,
Wonderfully written remberance. I feel
the pain and loss of someone who
loved you.
Words cannot express the bond
between father and son when it's
based on mutual trust, devotion,
and love.
My father died 33 years ago when
I was just 35 years old. Alcoholism
can be just as devastating as cancer
as his affliction literally destroyed
3 families, alienated all of his
children, and splintered their future
relationships.
I am happy to see you and your father
had a relationship that warranted
special mention.
Very kind of you and it hits home with me (and I'm sure, others as well).
I mean, I understand lots (most?) of guys are like us, walking through life with a never-healing
hole in our hearts for our Pops - but everyones' story is unique, just the same.

Your telling of the ramifications of your dads' passing also resonates as well, albeit for different
reasons. I don't reckon any grieving soul walks away from such a loss the happier for it, but boy...
sometimes it's an absolutely devastating thing, as you've described - with permanent scars.
I guess we all run that risk anytime we invest emotionally in another, but still - it's painful as
hell when it doesn't go all storybook for us in the end just the same.
A couple things that resulted from my dads' passing stick with me to this day, in fact...

One was that the certain alienation between my (older) sister and he was never truly resolved
(even though she seems fine about the whole thing to this day) and she didn't wind up even
attending the funeral; much like when he was in the ICU the last time, I failed to get her to
come visit for either.
That really bothers me to this day; seems to bother her less, though.

Lesson learned: Nobody, I mean nobody, of the really small circle of family/close friends I
have left are going to have unfinished business with me when I go.
In fact, none have any now....intentionally. I will not let disagreements or ambiguous things
linger long with any of them, preferring to bulldoze my way to some sort of resolution.
After all, my own egg timer rang a while ago - I am on borrowed time here, not kidding
myself about any of that.

Two was a more immediate and up-close, daily reminder of how people can be:
Pop had owned a couple of restaurants in this small town and had decided to retire here back
in the late 80's - and he'd been busy working on his old farmhouse and such, so much to the
point that most local folks knew him or did business with him.
I never heard a bad word said about him and in fact, witnessed dozens of times a day folks
exchanging positive interactions with him.
Heck, some expressed outright affection for the man and he often went out of his way to help
people if he could.

All of that stated, when he passed, we family were preparing for the funeral, expecting the usual
showing of seemingly half the town showing up as they did for most people they knew.
Instead - only a very scant (count 'em on one hand) few did.
That, of course, pissed me off no end.
The initial disrespect I interpreted from that was finally explained to me some time afterward by
a local friend, who pointed out rather matter-of-factly that Pop wasn't related to anyone here,
didn't grow up/go to school here, didn't go to the "right church", yada yada....
In other words, "he ain't from around here" was to blame.
Small town USA, eh?
Pardon my French, but....fluck 'em. Such a shallow, ignorant way to go through life....

Lesson learned: I've been here 30+ years and I know/am friendly with many locals too,
but I learned from Pops' illness and funeral (more importantly, peoples' reactions to it) that
I ain't from around here either.
I pop into town a few times a week, conduct my business and interact with locals as needed
and enjoy the activities and such offered here - but then I leave and go home, neither offering
or accepting anything more than that from others - and I know when I go, they ain't gonna
show up for my funeral either, despite helping so many and being friendly with dozens.
If they could do someone so deserving as Pop wrong when he passed....
Well hell, I ain't nobody by comparison.
 

1STMP

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Very kind of you and it hits home with me (and I'm sure, others as well).
I mean, I understand lots (most?) of guys are like us, walking through life with a never-healing
hole in our hearts for our Pops - but everyones' story is unique, just the same.

Your telling of the ramifications of your dads' passing also resonates as well, albeit for different
reasons. I don't reckon any grieving soul walks away from such a loss the happier for it, but boy...
sometimes it's an absolutely devastating thing, as you've described - with permanent scars.
I guess we all run that risk anytime we invest emotionally in another, but still - it's painful as
hell when it doesn't go all storybook for us in the end just the same.
A couple things that resulted from my dads' passing stick with me to this day, in fact...

One was that the certain alienation between my (older) sister and he was never truly resolved
(even though she seems fine about the whole thing to this day) and she didn't wind up even
attending the funeral; much like when he was in the ICU the last time, I failed to get her to
come visit for either.
That really bothers me to this day; seems to bother her less, though.

Lesson learned: Nobody, I mean nobody, of the really small circle of family/close friends I
have left are going to have unfinished business with me when I go.
In fact, none have any now....intentionally. I will not let disagreements or ambiguous things
linger long with any of them, preferring to bulldoze my way to some sort of resolution.
After all, my own egg timer rang a while ago - I am on borrowed time here, not kidding
myself about any of that.

Two was a more immediate and up-close, daily reminder of how people can be:
Pop had owned a couple of restaurants in this small town and had decided to retire here back
in the late 80's - and he'd been busy working on his old farmhouse and such, so much to the
point that most local folks knew him or did business with him.
I never heard a bad word said about him and in fact, witnessed dozens of times a day folks
exchanging positive interactions with him.
Heck, some expressed outright affection for the man and he often went out of his way to help
people if he could.

All of that stated, when he passed, we family were preparing for the funeral, expecting the usual
showing of seemingly half the town showing up as they did for most people they knew.
Instead - only a very scant (count 'em on one hand) few did.
That, of course, pissed me off no end.
The initial disrespect I interpreted from that was finally explained to me some time afterward by
a local friend, who pointed out rather matter-of-factly that Pop wasn't related to anyone here,
didn't grow up/go to school here, didn't go to the "right church", yada yada....
In other words, "he ain't from around here" was to blame.
Small town USA, eh?
Pardon my French, but....fluck 'em. Such a shallow, ignorant way to go through life....

Lesson learned: I've been here 30+ years and I know/am friendly with many locals too,
but I learned from Pops' illness and funeral (more importantly, peoples' reactions to it) that
I ain't from around here either.
I pop into town a few times a week, conduct my business and interact with locals as needed
and enjoy the activities and such offered here - but then I leave and go home, neither offering
or accepting anything more than that from others - and I know when I go, they ain't gonna
show up for my funeral either, despite helping so many and being friendly with dozens.
If they could do someone so deserving as Pop wrong when he passed....
Well hell, I ain't nobody by comparison.
"Well hell, I ain't nobody by comparison."
Sounds to me like you're his spittin'
image. You're one of the lucky few.
You have a right to be very proud
of his legacy.
The trick is to pass these traights
on to future generations.
I miss my dad, and though he had
many faults, he still had much to
contribute.
 

bandit67

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Thanks Ed, your stories are comforting. I just lost my Dad last Friday ,week ago. As I join the group who have lost their fathers, I now see the world for me has changed. In my 65 years of life I have never been in the world without my Dad, until now. I was more fortunate than many to have had him this long, as many lost theirs so young. Life is precious, thanks to you and others posting words of comfort.
 

440 4 speed

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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
Never too late to quit smoking.
 

moparedtn

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"Well hell, I ain't nobody by comparison."
Sounds to me like you're his spittin'
image. You're one of the lucky few.
You have a right to be very proud
of his legacy.
The trick is to pass these traights
on to future generations.
I miss my dad, and though he had
many faults, he still had much to
contribute.
In some ways, I certainly am that - but probably not nearly enough of the good
vs. a little much of the bad, methinks.
Sure am walking in his shoes medically, too...
There'll be no passing whatever along, either (no kids - not by choice, but by His will).

I'm betting your own dad had plenty of good in him - it's obvious you inherited same
from somewhere, after all. :thumbsup:
 

moparedtn

Ed on the Ridge
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Thanks Ed, your stories are comforting. I just lost my Dad last Friday ,week ago. As I join the group who have lost their fathers, I now see the world for me has changed. In my 65 years of life I have never been in the world without my Dad, until now. I was more fortunate than many to have had him this long, as many lost theirs so young. Life is precious, thanks to you and others posting words of comfort.
Oh dear, I'm so sorry to hear of this. My condolences to you and yours! :praying:
You're right, of course - life without that certain "safety net" under us, that absolutely
trustworthy sounding board for us to glean advice and guidance from, gets sort of
"wobbly" for a while afterwards for sure.
This same world - and the view and navigation of it - suddenly has changed.

I know what it's like to go through that in my early 50's - I reckon we all go through it
eventually, of course - but I cannot even fathom the way Pop had to as a 14 year old boy.
It would have been so much easier for Pop to "go bad" from there, as so many do today...
I think there's a lot to be said about the fact in those days, he really wasn't presented that
choice and the plan from the get-go was to man up and carry the load instead.
Lots of depression-era folks were in the same boat and it's just what one did.

Now? I'm pretty sure half the population would spend all their waking hours making
victims of the other half if such a depression hit today.
 

Cranky

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Don't need any onions this day!! And there's so much to talk about with my family too but there's no way I can talk about it right now. All I can say right now is thanks for those that did talk about it......
 
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