Dad was fighting cancer for 4 years - prostate cancer, lymphoma and leukemia. He was himself during most of treatment - happy, kind, strong, funny, positive. He did a lot of amazing things over the course of those 4 years - he kept working, he vacationed, played his college rock band's reunion concerts, went to Hawaii with the whole family, golfed, played with his grandkids, everything.
I consider myself lucky that I had a chance to say goodbye. Dad has always been the type to say he loved me at the end of each phone call, and I lived each day of my life knowing how much he loved me. But because he knew he was sick, I think our family cherished the time we had together a little more.
I'm doing okay, I think the family is doing okay. Life is still coming at me fast, with a job and two kids. But I think of him all the time. Every time I use one of his old sayings at work and people laugh, like when I said "We've got to put the hay in the barn while the sun is shining!" the other day. Or when Bennett asks about him. Or when June was humming "Boogie Wonderland" in the car. Or when I was making a meal plan and found myself craving his barbecue salmon recipe. And those moments sneak up and sort of take your breath away, and I'm filled with tears and I'm not sure if they're sad ones, or if they're happy ones full of gratitude for who he was and what he meant in my life.
And I am full of gratitude. I'm grateful that mom and dad were able to make it back to Arizona before he died. I'm grateful that the doctors in Arizona had the gentle honesty to tell us that he belonged in hospice. Grateful that I was able to fly in town the evening before he passed, able to spend one last evening with him and JP and Mom, the 'original 4.' Grateful JP came with a list of funny stories, the "Martin Lore," that we could talk about and laugh about and cry about while holding Dad's hand one last time.
I have another whole list of people I'm grateful for, but that's a song for another day.
I meant to leave this on a happy note but I'm just feeling really down tonight. So maybe I can do with a video what I can't with words, and finish with a clip of my dad and his band singing "Vehicle." He points to my mom when he sings, "I love you, I need you, I want you." And if that's not dad in a nutshell - performing, hamming it up and loving mom - then I don't know what is.
I consider myself lucky that I had a chance to say goodbye. Dad has always been the type to say he loved me at the end of each phone call, and I lived each day of my life knowing how much he loved me. But because he knew he was sick, I think our family cherished the time we had together a little more.
I'm doing okay, I think the family is doing okay. Life is still coming at me fast, with a job and two kids. But I think of him all the time. Every time I use one of his old sayings at work and people laugh, like when I said "We've got to put the hay in the barn while the sun is shining!" the other day. Or when Bennett asks about him. Or when June was humming "Boogie Wonderland" in the car. Or when I was making a meal plan and found myself craving his barbecue salmon recipe. And those moments sneak up and sort of take your breath away, and I'm filled with tears and I'm not sure if they're sad ones, or if they're happy ones full of gratitude for who he was and what he meant in my life.
And I am full of gratitude. I'm grateful that mom and dad were able to make it back to Arizona before he died. I'm grateful that the doctors in Arizona had the gentle honesty to tell us that he belonged in hospice. Grateful that I was able to fly in town the evening before he passed, able to spend one last evening with him and JP and Mom, the 'original 4.' Grateful JP came with a list of funny stories, the "Martin Lore," that we could talk about and laugh about and cry about while holding Dad's hand one last time.
I have another whole list of people I'm grateful for, but that's a song for another day.
I meant to leave this on a happy note but I'm just feeling really down tonight. So maybe I can do with a video what I can't with words, and finish with a clip of my dad and his band singing "Vehicle." He points to my mom when he sings, "I love you, I need you, I want you." And if that's not dad in a nutshell - performing, hamming it up and loving mom - then I don't know what is.
