Mar
21
My father…
Filed Under Family
Today marks the 3rd anniversary of my father’s death. In thinking about how to best honor him I came across a letter I had written after he had a stroke several years ago. The letter was written to explain to others how my father had changed since his stroke. While the intent of the letter is not important at this time, I do feel that the things expressed within are of vital importance as I continue to remember and honor my father. Especially when I share stories of him with my children.
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My father was the type of guy who could walk into any room and immediately make friends. His gift for casual conversation allowed him to talk to anyone and usually make friends with them in a matter of minutes. I remember going with him on sales and services calls when I was a child. No matter whom he was visiting, he would strike up a conversation with them. In most cases, the conversation would be filled with jokes and laughter. As I child I believed that my father knew everyone and that everyone knew him. I wanted to be like him, able to talk to anyone and be known by all. As I grew up I realized that he didn’t know everyone, but I did realize just how important his ability to talk to anyone really was; not only for business purposes, but also for personal reasons. You see, part of what made my father who he was, was his desire and ability to ‘shoot the shit’, as he called it, with anyone. I think one of his secret pleasures, albeit a simple one was just being able to strike up conversations with people and talk.
My father was also one of the most generous individuals I have ever known. As a father he was always there to give us a ride, help us with projects or even just listen to us ramble on about things of no importance. In addition to his role as our father, he also lent a helping hand to whomever asked. Whether it was helping someone finish their basement or cut down a tree, my father was willing to lend a hand. He never asked for anything in return. He enjoyed doing these things. Not only did he enjoy helping others but he also enjoyed doing these types of projects himself.
A few years ago he spent four months helping me finish my basement as I prepared to get married. What a wonderful four months that was. My father would come over every night after work and help me put up studs, tape drywall and hang the ceiling. I enjoyed the time we spent together. We would talk, joke and discuss the issues of the day. Not only did I learn a great deal from him but it also gave us an opportunity to connect in a different way now that I was an adult. Years ago as I child I had assisted him in finishing up his own basement but at that time I was young and didn’t spend much time with him. The four months together provided him with the outlet of doing a project and me with a chance to better know my father.
Perhaps the most striking and important aspect of my father was his pride. No matter where he went or what he did my father was always proud. Often this was described as stubbornness but to anyone that really knew him they understood what it really was. Having grown up on a farm he understood what it took to get things done. He learned to rely on himself and to never give up on anything. These were also values that he passed onto his children. Growing up I always smiled when my father would build something or fix something that was broken. I wanted to be able to do those types of things. I wanted to be just as independent as he was.
In the most recent years my father had become a doting grandfather. He loved nothing more than visiting with his grandchildren and playing with them. He would sit and read them stories as well as tell a few of his own. Despite having three grandchildren in Jefferson City he still managed to visit them several times a year. At those times he and my mother would get in the car and drive down for a few days. Just as he had done for his own children, he would have done anything for his grandchildren. They had become the new light of his life.
Along with doting on his grandchildren my father had recently begun to enjoy retirement. After years of working hard to provide for his family he had finally retired. He was free to spend more time with my mother and finally relax. For a man as proud and independent as my father it was a time to finally do some of the things he had put aside while taking care of others. It was now, after all of these years, his time.
Then it was gone.
On that fateful November day my father not only lost most of his speech, he also lost the most important aspect of his being—his pride. Our family lost a spirit that had been shining brightly for more than 60 years. Although he was still alive, which we are all grateful for, my father had lost his spirit and in many ways the will to live.
After having the stroke our family was focused on whether or not he would recover at all. If you know anyone who has had a stroke the first few days following the stroke itself are the scariest. At any moment another stroke could happen which could very possibly kill the person having it. As a family we all pulled together to be with him and to pray that he would recover. Little did any of us realize just what ‘surviving a stroke’ really meant. From that moment on our lives would be changed forever.
After my father made it through the tenuous post-stroke days we began to see the physical effects that had resulted from the stroke. The most notable effect was my father’s loss of speech and ability to communicate. For weeks after the stroke he was unable to communicate and it was questionable whether or not he would get any speech or communication ability back. As time went by he slowly regained much of his ability to understand us as we spoke but his ability to speak was not returning at the same pace. At this time his speech is nothing close to being normal. Even after attending therapy for months my father’s speech is limited. Although he has his moments of clarity, more often then not his speech is garbled and hard to understand. His ability to understand is good but there are many instances where he doesn’t really understand what we are saying to him. The end result is confusion and frustration for all involved. Can you imagine losing your ability to communicate?
It is terrible enough for anyone to lose their ability to talk and communicate. But for a man such as my father who lived for talking it was the cruelest thing to happen. For now he was unable to do the one thing that he enjoyed. No longer could he just go out for coffee and strike up a conversation with a stranger. No longer can he read his granddaughter a good night story. No more long talks with his wife in the evening. No more talking to his son and giving him much needed advice. My father is limited to what he can now do by how little he can communicate. How unfair it is for a man with such passion and pride to no longer be able to communicate on his own.
Once a man prone to helping others, he now relies on others to live. He is no longer able to do the things he once enjoyed or wanted to do. Gone are the days of building a dollhouse for his grandchild or helping his son paint the house. It is difficult enough just to do household chores like the laundry or clean the bathroom. He can no longer babysit his grandchildren or take them for walks unless others go with him. Instead of being able to enjoy his retirement he finds himself trapped by his loss of speech and freedom.
Perhaps the biggest change in my father is his loss of pride. As I mentioned before he was one of the most proud men I have ever known. From the way he dealt with others to the way he always did things himself. Always independent and strong he has been reduced to relying on others and being depressed. What he has become should surprise no one. After all, what can you expect once you take so many things away from a person, things they have lived with all their life. The stroke stripped my father of his dignity, his pride, his ability to communicate and many of his memories.
My father was the most important man in the world to me. He was what I aspired to be when I grew up and became a father. I am proud to say that he still is and will always remain my role model. I hope that I can do at least half the job he has done as a husband, a father and a friend. I am sure he knows how much I love him but I only wish he could read these words and truly understand what he has and always will mean to me.
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To further celebrate his life I invite you to view the tribute video I created for him shortly before his passing. And yes, he got to watch it himself. And in only a way he could, he thanked me…by smiling.