For many years, my dad has been (and remains) my hero. He is one of seven raised in what amounted to a single parent household. He didn't graduate high school but has a college degree (Associate's in Textile Management). He is someone from whom I inherited my eye color, my sparkling personality, my wicked sense of humor, and my work ethic.
Most mornings he is up before I am -- still. He's retired now but still gets up in the dark because he doesn't know what else to do. He is also a lighter sleeper than he once was, so he figures he might as well get going. Retirement just means he can nap when he wants to..... lucky him!
It has been a hard couple of years for my dad. He retired from a post-retirement job primarily to schlepp my mom to doctor's appointments, which seemed to be an almost weekly occurrence for a while. He ended up having to care for me after my foot surgery, my brother for his emergency appendectomy, and still manage my mom's healthcare. It was frustrating for him, to say the least. I think he expected his retirement years to involve travel with my mom to places of mutual interest. Instead, his wife got weaker and sicker and eventually became more or less housebound. It was far from what he had hoped. Even when he got frustrated and expressed his bewilderment, he stayed the course.
The night my mom's lifeforce seemed to really and truly dwindle, he still was hoping and wishing and trying to will her to do for herself. I realized that she needed more than we could possibly deliver and I'm the one who said, "Dad.... I'm calling the ambulance. We can't do this." I watched him surrender.
That was hard to see. My steady rock for 46 years throwing his hands up and in effect saying, "I'm done. I can't do any more." And so it went over those next few days: watching him asking us our thoughts on options we never imagined; seeing him sign paperwork that moved his bride, our mom, into hospice care. Then hearing him take the phone call that was so surreal, knowing the answer before a word was spoken. And then watching him shed tears at her funeral, saluting my mom one last time.
In some ways, it's only fitting that my dad is who I saw first today. As much as I love(d) my mom, it was always my dad and I who saw more eye-to-eye on things. And he was the one I called when I was in deep yogurt or needed solid advice. And I still do.
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