My dad passed away early Monday morning of complications related to dementia and congestive heart disease. My brother was with him when he died and reported that he was comfortable and pain free. I’d like to take a few minutes and tell you a little about him.
My dad was a depression baby, spending his early years in a close knit German neighborhood in College Point, Queens. The area was called “Five Corners” because 5 different roads met at the intersection that his family’s house sat near. Ironically, some 50 years after this I went to work for my future brother in law, in a wood shop less than 100 feet from this spot. My dad grew up in a small cottage that barely seemed to be able to hold the whole family that included 11 children, one whom died soon after birth and one who passed at the age of ten.
Three images stand out from my dad’s stories about his childhood. That he would chase after the coal delivery truck to pick up coal that fell off, that his first paying job was setting pins by hand in a local bowling alley for a nickel a game, and that he would bring a small lunch pail to the local tavern each night to get beer for his dad.
After my dad finished high school, a feat for him, he enlisted in the armed services and served his country and then returned to Queens to marry my mother and raise a family. I was the first born of 5 children. My mother passed away suddenly when I was 15 and I remember my dad sheltering us as best as possible from all the commotion. One image I have in my mind from this time was about a year later, walking in the hallway upstairs past his bedroom and seeing him lying on his bed looking at a picture of my mother. That is an image of him I will never forget.
A few years later my dad started a relationship with a woman who lived in a nearby town. They seemed very happy together, seemed to enjoy each other’s support and company. They did not get married because they both had younger children and did not want to have them deal with the issues of blended families. She got cancer and died after a long illness. The thought of his losing two people in his life like this was more than anyone should have to handle, but he did.
Later, he started a relationship with another woman from the neighborhood. They were great together, having lots of fun, traveling, enjoying each other’s company. After they had been together for several years he was trying to reach her by phone but there was no answer and he went over to her apartment to find that she had died. At her funeral, I hugged my dad and told him I was so sorry for all of his losses but these words seemed so insufficient then and even more so now.
My dad worked for 25 years for the city in the Department of Sanitation, retired and then worked for 10 more for the federal government delivering mail in NYC. He worked hard every single day of his life until the dementia forced him to give up his home and move to an assisted living home on Long Island. After all those years of independence, this was a most disagreeable thing for him but he could not be trusted to take care of himself and needed more attention.
When he retired he continued to keep busy, working with his hands. My dad enjoyed making things and repairing things. He worked on cars and bicycles and remodeled rooms and fixed things all the time. He was with me when we bought our first home and spend hours and hours helping me make repairs – putting in new windows on the porch, removing a door, painting the entire outside, wallpapering the inside, remodeling the bathroom. We lived 3 hours away but he would come to visit, enjoy playing with his new granddaughter and work on the house with me. This joy too was robbed from him in the end.
It seems so hollow to say he is in a better place now, but it is true. The last few years have been difficult as the dementia invaded and took over his life. He was always a happy and energetic soul and this was taken from him. He easily made friends and this was taken from him. He always had a story to tell but this was taken from him. Now he is taken from us. The last time he recognized me was almost 4 years ago at Easter time at a dinner at my sister’s house. He was having a good day and was enjoying himself and the attention he got. But as the day grew longer he had more and more trouble and he slipped away from us that day. At Christmas that year I saw him again and he was at the point that he no longer recognized any of us. It was difficult for him to be in a strange place, my brothers house, that he had spend hours and hours at doing repairs and visiting in the years before because he no longer recognized it. I was difficult for me to see him this way, because he was slipping away, was no longer the person I knew. I really needed to remember him as the strong, energetic man who was my father, not as the person dementia was making him. I missed him, even when I was with him. He is in a better place now. I chose to remember him that way.
One final note. There is no way that I can ever repay or thank my siblings enough for all the caring that they did for my dad. All of them, my brother Michael and his wife Joanne and my sisters Annette, Johanna and my brother Anthony. I lived so far from where my dad was yet they always kept me updated about how he was doing and what was going on for him. Michael especially was so strong throughout this whole ordeal. They were the one who told my dad he had to leave his home and move to the assisted living home, they helped him look at places, they cleared out his home and moved his belongings, they sold his house, they took him to his doctor appointments, they looked out for him and they were there when he died. There are not enough words that I can say in gratitude to them. They made sure he was comfortable and taken care of right to the end. They are all blessed and I am honored to say thank you deeply for all they have done.
No comments:
Post a Comment