Make It A Good One

Thank you for being here. While I always strive to write from my soul and leave ego in the background, today's post is coming straight from my heart.

On Monday, my 96-year old dad died. I thought it would be easier to adjust to his passing since he lived a long, good life. All my siblings and I hoped he would pass gently and he did. He got up that morning in his assisted living apartment, got himself dressed with his usual neatly tucked in shirt, nice chinos and a belt, of course. On his way to breakfast he stopped for his few meds and mentioned he didn't feel good. The staff took his temperature and he was running a low grade fever. They suggested he go back to his place and they would be in to check on him and probably bring him some breakfast. When they arrived about ten minutes later, he was lying down on his bed and he was gone. He departed with the same grace and gentleness with which he lived.  

When I got the news, it hit me like a sucker punch and that didn't make sense. I knew he was on "borrowed" time, so to speak. He wasn't going to live forever and he had a few health issues over the last couple of years. He was 96 for gawd's sake, yet my brain just couldn't wrap itself around the facts. Even now, three days later, I'm still a bit spacey. A friend reminded me that my dad was a big part of my energy field and had been most of my life (I'll explain in a bit). Suddenly, there is a gap, almost like a black hole, and I'm feeling the effects. 

My dad was a musician, a bass fiddle player who adored jazz music and played in small bands. In 1950, when he was going to turn 21, he enlisted in the Air Force. He was about to be drafted into the army to fight in the Korean Conflict and he wanted to be more proactive about his life. He was a husband and had a child on the way (me!). Once he was out of the service, he decided to take advantage of the GI Bill and get a college education. He did a 4-year BA program, graduating magna lum laude in just over two years which meant he basically lived at Boston University. Because of all this, he wasn't much of a physical presence in my life until I was five years old. An interesting side note ...my dad was dyslexic and taught himself how to deal with it! 

Over the years he worked hard. He was a CPA and I did seasonal work (tax season) for his firm when I got older. He had an incredible work ethic which he passed on to his four children. He still played in jazz bands sometimes and when he was home, there was jazz playing on the stereo. He wasn't a big talker, he enjoyed photography, and he laughed out loud at Red Skelton on tv every Tuesday night when I was a kid. 

He liked dressing well. He could often be found in the original Filene's Basement during his lunch hour and he had a closet full of beautiful suits, shirts, and ties. Even when dressed casually, his shirt would be tucked in. He had excellent taste and would sometimes bring home a lovely dress for me or my mother that he found in the "Basement". 

One reason he was shopping during "lunch" was because he never ate the first two meals of the day. After retirement he would join my mother for an egg sandwich for breakfast. He would make the toast and the coffee and she would cook the eggs, but lunch never made sense to him. He was an original faster without knowing it and even though his mother and grandmother lived to be over 100, I think some of his dietary habits contributed to his longevity.

When he retired in his 70's he puttered around the house. He continued to do his own taxes (right up until just a couple of years ago) and sometimes did tax work for others. He would drive my mother once she stopped driving as much and either they would shop together or sometimes, he would head off with the grocery list by himself. 

My mother died in February, 2017. By fall of that year, Dad decided he didn't want to be in a big house alone and part of another cold, icy, snowy winter and he went to Florida with my sister and picked out a senior living complex. He didn't do much cooking and really appreciated someone else making him dinner. His apartment in the independent section came with dining room privileges and while he didn't like eating quite as early as the meal was served, he was glad to have someone put a hot plate in front of him. He also got to socialize and if the temperature went below 80 degrees, he put on his flannel shirts. 

He stayed in that living space until last Monday. A little over a year ago he moved into the assisted section. He had stopped driving the year before that and he was needing a little more support. He was expected to use a walker and usually ended up "carrying" it down the hall. He could still carry on a great conversation and even though we heard some of his "stories" more than once, he maintained his sense of humor. He had become quite gregarious after retirement and made friends with everyone at the senior residence. He never complained and when we took him for the occasional medical appointment he charmed all the doctors and nurses. 

I spoke to him by phone last week. We had a sweet conversation and when it was over he ended the conversation the way he always did: "I love you. Take care and make it a good one." 

Thank you for indulging me in my reminiscence. There's so much more I could tell you about my dad. I intend to honor him in whatever way I can over the next few days. In the meantime, from the bottom of my heart, I'm passing along his advice, "Make it a good one.".

As always, sending Sparkles and Love your way.