April 3, 2009 was a day I will never forget. It was a day I had dreaded for my entire life. It was the last day of my father's life. I was going to tell you a little about that day, but decided instead to share with you the eulogy that I wrote for my Dad. He was such a special man. I wish you could have known him!
I have spent a lot of time with my Dad in the past 2 months. During 12 hour days at the hospital, it amazed me how many nurses and therapists commented on just how much I resemble my Dad.
I was unsure whether this was a compliment or not! His features are handsome for a man, but for me? The first feature that always came to my mind was his rather large nose. They couldn’t possibly be referring to that? Could they?
His hair? Not possible. I have my mom’s fine, thin hair.
While I never dared ask them for specifics, I would always hope that perhaps they were talking about his smile. Maybe you never paid much attention to my father’s smile because he wore it so frequently. I admit that I never really noticed it much myself until it wasn’t there anymore. You see, after his stroke, it was one of the things about my Dad that I most wanted back. Whenever anyone came into his room I feared they would see a serious, grumpy old man because of his inability to bring his face to life. But I was proven wrong. He was loved and respected by everyone.
My eyes are very different than my Dad’s too. Surely I have Mom’s. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Looking into my Dad’s revealed a man who was extremely determined. He told me when referring to the stroke that he would never wish this on anyone.
He was a man who had faced many challenges and would never say he couldn’t do something.
This was one of his biggest challenges, and he never failed to amaze all of the therapists in rehab. When they asked him to do 20 repetitions, he said no. I want to do 30. When he had just taken his first few steps while holding the parallel bars, he looked at me and said he would be walking up the stairs within a week. He was wrong. It took him a week and a half. There was great pride in his eyes and mine when he walked the long hallway from the gym back to his room with only a cane.
His eyes also revealed a soul full of kindness, caring, and wisdom. Most of his therapists were very pretty young women, which was an added incentive to do well! I remember the first time he met Tina, who later went on to teach him to walk again. She came into his room that first day to evaluate him. After struggling to sit up on the edge of the bed, my Dad looked her in the eyes and asked her if she has a boyfriend. She was a little surprised, but admitted that yes, she does. In fact, her wedding was only a month away. He went on to tell her that her husband should never take her for granted. He should tell her every day how pretty she is and how much he loves her. He told her about his 56 year marriage to Mom and gave her advice on how to help make hers last too. On her last day of work before her wedding, he gave her a wedding card with $10 inside and asked her if he could be the first one to kiss the bride. He kissed her and made her cry.
My father developed a personal relationship with each of his therapists. I believe part of the reason why he did so well was because they all cared about him a lot and wanted so much for him to succeed. We were told often that my father would long be remembered in the rehab unit.
While the past 2 months were probably the most difficult months of my life, I will always cherish the time I got to spend with my father. A quote from Clarence Kelland sums it all up:
“My father didn’t tell me how to live;
he lived, and let me watch him do it.”
Looking back now, even though I don’t really know what they all meant when they told me I resemble my dad, it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I am proud.
