Dad knew for three months that he would die. The cancer was first found on September 11,2006, the five year anniversary of the 9/11/01 attacks, and the same day that I watched the reruns and commented on how everybody in my family was still living, a good thing. Just then the phone rang, and I heard the news. Dad had cancer in the liver, the lungs, and the brain. Nobody spoke of treatment or cure.
Over the next three months we spoke, we didn’t speak, we laughed and we cried, and we examined, and we made peace. Thinking Dad was probably closer to it all and understanding the meaning of it all we spoke of his journey, and what he thought was next. He didn’t know. “ I just don’t know Tammy, perhaps we come back as next years leaves”, he said as he watched the autumn leaves fall from the trees.
Alright, I will try another one. Dad what do you think is the meaning of it all? He pondered for a long moment. He said “Wow, you got me on that one. I think it’s just to take up time and space.” He always spoke of being born too late. We spoke of decisions and life’s journey, and how choices made between the ages of 18 and 25 affect us so much, and we don’t have the wisdom to understand them, at that age. We spoke of the wisdom missing in youth, and the choices he made, and the choices that were put upon him. We spoke of the family, and the connections, and the hardships. We spoke of people he liked, and those he didn’t like, and the compassion he felt for all people.
We spoke of hardships, and stories, and misinterpretations of whom he was, and what he was all about. We spoke of his journeys to teach his sons a trade, and the help from his father and his brother. We spoke of the good helping the bad, and the need for families to do this, because that’s what binds the family.
Now you are gone from us. I will not be able to hold your hand or hug you, or tell you I love you face to face. I will not be able to hear your loud voice say this to me. I am blessed that I have had a father who can say these words to me, and mean them. I have learned many lessons from you.
You have taught me about strength and resources. You have taught me about weakness. You have taught me how to stand up and fight for what I believe in, even if others disagree. You have taught me where there’s a will, there’s a way and that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. You have taught me to be strong and resourceful, and willing to take a risk.
You have taught me many lessons, some of them you wanted to teach me, others you didn’t. Mostly what you taught me is bravery. I almost missed it, shrugging it off as obstinacy, until I watched you face your own mortality, and then I got it. Your brother Carl said it well. You became a “giant of a man”. I think we just learned to open our eyes, instead of expecting you to open yours.
I will carry your memory with me throughout my life. May God be with you. May you be in peace. May you be joined with all generations past and present, and, that is that.
