Yeah, I miss my dad. I've seen people fight and wrestle (I'm trying not to use that word) with the death of a parent. Do I? Nah, not when the man had 88 "pretty good" years on earth, his words. Not when his body failed and his mind wasn't quick enough to keep up with the large group conversation anymore and he repeated himself on a circuit of rants. Not when he was frustrated more than he was content.
Did his greatest fear happen? That he would mindlessly repeat the phrase, "Have you ever been to Minneapolis?" over and over, as one of his elderly relatives did? No, not at all. He was the best introverted conversationalist I knew, able to pull a joke or a story or lecture on linguistics out of the spaghetti strands of his brain at just the right moment.
Richard would not have lasted long under the Cornavirus conditions of the nursing home he was confined to. Thank Goodness, thank Bob, thank Free Booklet he didn't have to. I have no regrets. I don't think he did either.
His last acting role at Western Illinois Museum as Abe Lincoln's photographer, 2018.
2 comments:
88 is a number just past the 86# I've told Astrid I want to live to. Wanna know why???? At 86 years I will have been married to the same person longer than anyone else. I was married to Bill for 21 years. I want to beat that by at least a month with Astrid. :) So I'm darn motivated to live that long. After that, I can happily die and go to heaven. Just 11 more years. :)
Thanks for posting this. I don't wrestle with it either. I miss hearing his voice and wish I had recorded more in those last days, but I'm also thankful I was able to spend that time in January, reading to him and "conversating." You were awesome through that rough period and I am thankful that Dad wasn't stuck there through all this COVID crap. That would have been hard on him, but also impossible for you and Mom.
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