TallTom
Registered
I spoke to you by phone just to see how you were doing. You didn't have a lot to say, you were watching it snow, complaining about Mom not letting you do anything you wanted to do and happy to be enjoying the National Geographic channel. We didn't talk long. At your age you didn't have much to say anymore. One week from now, I will get a call from the paramedics attempting to resuscitate you. I respected your wishes and told them to honor the DNR and not continue. You will die in the arms of your bride of 69 years, peacefully and with no apparent pain. I could hear her sobbing in the background as I tell them this. She begged them to continue. She was convinced you were just sleeping from having one too many spiked Eggnog's You were at peace with dying. I knew that. You had a good full life at 94 years old. You did your best to raise your kids and make a good life for us all. I was at peace that you were at peace. It was not a hard thing to tell them, but I knew that I would never have the chance to talk to you again. It would have been selfish of me to have told them to try and make you stay because I needed to say a few things before you go.
Had I known a year ago today that I would lose you in a week I would have said more than Howzit going Pop. Had I known a year ago, I would have called you more often, told you I loved you more, even though you didn't like to hear that silly kind of stuff.
I would have said thank you for being a good father. Thank you for raising me to be strong, yet not pushy. Teaching me to learn and watch before acting. Teaching me how to respect others and be compassionate when needed and tough when I didn't. Teaching me how to follow, yet know when to lead. Teaching me how to stand up for what was right and yield when it wasn't.
I would have said thank you for being tough on us. You never spared the rod, nor spoiled the child. I learned backbone from that. I knew there were to be consequences for actions. You taught me how to calculate my planned mis-steps against the expected punishments if I got caught. You taught me to work for what I got and not take what isn't mine. You taught me to look past where I am now, to where I need to go later.
You grew up not knowing where your next meals would come from some days. You had nothing. The Great Depression had taken your father from you, and shattered your family. You were raised on a farm by your uncle because at least they had food to offer you. You lost your sister and brother for 5 years because of this depression. Despite all of that, you fought for your country in what was to be the War to End all Wars. And you did so with pride.
The family now looks to me to take your place. I do so, using everything you taught me. Mom is doing fine. She was stunned for about 2 months but she is thriving now. Thank you for going in peace quickly. It was much easier on us all. She can enjoy a new life while she is still healthy enough to do so. Your best friend Jimbo searched for you for a month. He looked at your cap waiting for you to come take him for a walk. He sleeps in your bed every day now. He protects that bed for you. When I visited mom, Jimbo thought I was bringing you back home. Mom wanted me to have your cap. Even though it doesn't fit me. It sits in a place of honor and helps me see you when I need to.
Thanks Dad and Merry Christmas. I never got to tell you that last year because I expected to tell you so next week.
Never take for granted the opportunities to do today what you thought you could do in a week. Lots can happen in a week.
Had I known a year ago today that I would lose you in a week I would have said more than Howzit going Pop. Had I known a year ago, I would have called you more often, told you I loved you more, even though you didn't like to hear that silly kind of stuff.
I would have said thank you for being a good father. Thank you for raising me to be strong, yet not pushy. Teaching me to learn and watch before acting. Teaching me how to respect others and be compassionate when needed and tough when I didn't. Teaching me how to follow, yet know when to lead. Teaching me how to stand up for what was right and yield when it wasn't.
I would have said thank you for being tough on us. You never spared the rod, nor spoiled the child. I learned backbone from that. I knew there were to be consequences for actions. You taught me how to calculate my planned mis-steps against the expected punishments if I got caught. You taught me to work for what I got and not take what isn't mine. You taught me to look past where I am now, to where I need to go later.
You grew up not knowing where your next meals would come from some days. You had nothing. The Great Depression had taken your father from you, and shattered your family. You were raised on a farm by your uncle because at least they had food to offer you. You lost your sister and brother for 5 years because of this depression. Despite all of that, you fought for your country in what was to be the War to End all Wars. And you did so with pride.
The family now looks to me to take your place. I do so, using everything you taught me. Mom is doing fine. She was stunned for about 2 months but she is thriving now. Thank you for going in peace quickly. It was much easier on us all. She can enjoy a new life while she is still healthy enough to do so. Your best friend Jimbo searched for you for a month. He looked at your cap waiting for you to come take him for a walk. He sleeps in your bed every day now. He protects that bed for you. When I visited mom, Jimbo thought I was bringing you back home. Mom wanted me to have your cap. Even though it doesn't fit me. It sits in a place of honor and helps me see you when I need to.
Thanks Dad and Merry Christmas. I never got to tell you that last year because I expected to tell you so next week.
Never take for granted the opportunities to do today what you thought you could do in a week. Lots can happen in a week.
