SOMETIMES WE CRY

Sometimes we cry.....

My father passed away this past weekend.

He was 92, soon to be 93 the beginning of Dec. He lived a good life , lived through and saw more things than most. He spent most of his formative years in St. Clair Pennsylvania. His earliest job was working with his father in the coal mines that surrounded his area. Graduating from High School there. He was a football star for his High school.

 
 
 






















After graduation he enlisted and served for 20 years with the United States Air Force.

He was at Pearl Harbor during the attack and had survived.

The following year he married my Mother. This coming December they would have been married for 71 years. A lifetime for many!

He traveled to and lived in many locations . The south Pacific, much of Europe. My Mother sometimes going with him. My Sister Anne and my brother J Michael were born during this time and also lived in many different countries in Europe, " Military Brats" .

In 1960, after 20 years of service he retired from the Air Force and settled on Long Island, New York.

At the end of October 1961 I was born. My Dad was now in his 40's and both my parents were considered older for having a child during that time. Many times I can recall my friends asking if my parents were my grandparents. My sister was sixteen years older than me when I arrived. I know it must have been tiring for my parents to raise me going into their 40's. Yet they did, when most of the parents were half their age at school functions and birthday parties.

 

Dad with my sister Anne

 
 
just a few of me with Dad

My Mom told me yesterday that when I was born and he saw me for the first time he made a comment to her that he did not know why but he felt something different , a special connection to me. More than his other children.
Of his children I am most like him. I am grateful to have been blessed with his wit and sense of humor. I think though this is why we locked horns so much. Too much a like. He was never the kind of Dad who showered you with hugs or gushy sentiment. You earned it. You earned everything, and worked hard for it. That was what he knew. Reflecting on this there were many times I was angry with him for it. But it taught me a valuable lesson over all. You had to work hard to get what you want. Nothing was given, you earned it. When you did get what you wanted it was sweet because it was hard to get. You learned of sacrifices, failure as well as pride and satisfaction at your own hand. It molded you into a driven adult who depended only on themselves to "Git 'er done".

When my Dad retired from his second career with Suffolk County Sheriff department my parents moved out to Arizona. They lived in Prescott for fourteen years.

 
 

In the late summer of 1989 I married Paul. My Dad walked me down the Isle . He loved Paul and admired him over the years. He was both proud and happy I married such a good man.

I can't begin to tell you how right he was . Paul has been my rock both now and on many other sad ,emotional occasions .

When my parents were in their late 70's , they moved south in Arizona. To Vail and bought property and had a home built. My brother lived close by and it was good for them to move closer to one of us as they got older.

Even into their 70's and 80's my parents were pretty active. Walking regularly and vacationing to places they wanted to see. Australia, as well as revisiting locations in Europe . Along with a visit back east to stay with us a few weeks maybe once a year.
He was artistic, crafty.
A handy man, doing many , many home improvements on his place, my brothers as well as our home well into his eighties.
My Dad was very active in the VFW and later became a member of the Masonic Lodge .

Five years ago we bought our farm here in North East Pennsylvania . My parents were now into their late 80's.
We have two homes here and invited them to stay with us.
They took us up on it and their house was sold in less than a month and my Dad at 87 drove the full way from Arizona to Pennsylvania in three days!
This was the source of may colorful conversations of my Dad , petal to the metal motoring his way north east!

My father LOVED animals.
I know this is where I get it from.
He was an avid bird watcher and we used to talk about all the different birds that would visit the feeders both he and I had set up for them. He loved the deer, our horses, the sheep, chickens, cats and dogs.
Oh the dogs!
He just thought they were amazing !
 My Mom told me he would watch me from his window in the kitchen and see me with the sheep and dogs and comment "oh there goes Bo-Peep with her sheep".  The dogs he thought so highly of.
Often I would bring one or two over for a visit and they would run right to him and he would pull out his stash of dog treats and give them a little snack. He loved them for their intelligence and never ending energy.
The year we moved here I had a litter of pups. He just loved those pups.
He was a strong supporter of my training with them and my running them at trials. He always was interested in how they did when we went.
Proud and excited when they did well or there to offer encouragement or condolence when we could not manage a placement.
He knew how important the Open class was to me and how that meant so much to me to do well at that level. He was a big fan of both Rush and Flint. Having known them since new born and then later my Opal.
He was thrilled to hear she had placed her first few times stepping out onto a trial field in the Pro Novice Class these past few months. And always encouraged me when I would come home and voice my disappointment of yet again not getting placement with Rush or Flint in the Open class.

My Dad with Flint and Rush

This past year my Dad really slowed down. He was having a hard time getting around. He had shortness of breath and found it hard to do much without getting "winded". The less he did, the less he was able to do.
His heart was failing him and his spinal stenosis was causing him discomfort.
He pushed himself, but I pushed him harder.
I just could not grasp he was failing and I did not want him to give up. But the fact of the matter was that he was 92, had a bad heart.

A few weeks ago he had a minor stroke. He recovered well enough but was kept in the hospital the past week for one thing or another. Visiting him in the hospital he was always in good spirit, still bright and alert.. not looking to have any brain damage.
I would bring him fresh tomato's and pears from our place and he would eat them right then and there, saving a few for breakfast.
He was released mid week last week and came home. He seemed good for someone who had had a stroke. He was able to get out of the car , walk up the porch steps to his home and went right to the kitchen and began reading his mail.
He was weak, very weak.
I think he knew it was the end and came home to pass on.
I wish I would have allowed myself to see/ believe this. I could not. He was going to live to be 100 , I just knew it!

I left for a dog trial this past weekend.
I said "so long" and would "see him on Sunday afternoon".
He said "Good luck, I hope you do well. Be careful driving down and back".
Did I tell him I loved him? I can't remember!
I called during the weekend and let him know I had finally managed an Open placement with Flint. He was so happy for me and proud of me ! I am glad I was able to achieve this while he was alive .

Unfortunately he had another episode that landed him in the hospital the week before.  He went fast, peacefully. He passed at home in his favorite chair . I think this was as he wanted it.
My brother told me he once had a conversation with my dad about his grandfather and that he had died in his favorite chair on his front porch.
My Dad had made a comment of  " how great was that? You could not ask for a better way to go".

I am grateful my Dad had a good full life. That he was with it right up to the end. That he left quick and did not have a long lingering illness. That he passed away at home, in his favorite chair.
You could not ask for a better passing.
I cry not for him but for my Mother, my brother and myself. It sucks to be left behind.

I have many memories that will make me laugh as well as cry.
He may not have been the best Dad, or the most perfect one.

But he was MY Dad. I will miss him, I do miss him.