Reflections on 2 Years Since My Dad Passed

 

Today marks two years since my dad passed away. My dad and I were never as close as my mom and I were. It seemed, though unspoken, that my brother and dad were more like each other, just as my mom and I were close. However, after he moved to Waupaca, we became very close, almost like old fishing buddies, or the two men from the movie "Grumpy Old Men". I found him an apartment up here, he would attend weekly breakfasts with some of the church folks, and he helped with Royal Rangers and other things around the church. What we had was more like two guys hanging out a lot. 

When his health took a turn, I found myself accompanying him to his appointments, the first big one being in Appleton when he was going to have a bone marrow test. On our way down the hall, I witnessed his first big fall, headfirst into the marble floor. After that day, I began to see him fall more often, including in front of a restaurant after a men’s ministry meeting. After I witnessed him squirming in his seat and struggling to walk into the doctor's office, I noticed a spot on the back of his jeans. That's when he told me about an ulcer. We got him into the ER and from there on, he was in and out of wound care, extended care nursing facilities, etc. as this stage 4 ulcer began to wreak havoc on his body.

I would visit him everyday (at the very least a phone call) especially when it was too painful for him to get up and walk around. He had good days and bad days. Some days he could do his laundry, other days, it was all he could do to get to the restroom. On those days, I would step in and do his dishes. He would often critique my dishwashing skills asking me if I was going to do it right this time because he found a few spots I missed, which was something I was used to from growing up.

One time, a day or two after my wife (who is a saint) had worked on his wound care, he told me, "I guess according to your wife, I am supposed to tell you, I love you." I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had heard those words from my dad.

So why did I keep doing what I did? Picking him up for every appointment, dealing with his comments, etc.? It's simple. The Bible says "Honor your father and mother". I was his main go-to when he got to Waupaca for appointments, etc. The deeper part of that answer is that I longed to hear the words "I am proud of you" or even more so, "I love you". I can’t tell you how many times I came home from hospital visits, nursing home visits, etc. and told my wife, "Nope, he still didn't say it." I told him many times "I love you", to which he would reply "yeah". 

My relatives would tell me, "He showed it to you through his actions, but he wasn’t told that in his upbringing." Nonetheless, neither was I from him, yet not a day goes by where my kids and my wife don’t hear the words "I love you" from me. 

Would I do it all over again? Yes, I would, he was my dad. Even in his final days living at my house where he passed, I changed his adult diapers, fed him, etc. That day he passed away, I sat with him and never heard those words uttered. Do I walk today with a limp because of it? Yes, I do. Nonetheless, he was my dad and I am thankful I was by his side, especially during the hospice days. 

Two years...time is a thief...love you, dad.