Most of my memories of my dad include laughter, Ice Cream and Johnny Sauce and really bad singing.
But for me, right now, the most poignant memory is that of my father and his sister, Kathie. My sister, Karla and I had flown to Phoenix, picked Dad up, and flown with him to Albuquerque, NM to see his sister. My cousin, Carol (Aunt Kathryn’s daughter) was instrumental in bringing about this event. My dad was 87 and suffering from Parkinson’s disease, and Aunt Kathryn was 96. Dad was soft spoken all his life, but Parkinson’s disease had made him even softer and slower. And he was dealing with either Parkinson’s related dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. Aunt Kathryn’s sight was almost gone and her hearing was, well that of a 96 year old woman.
The first night we were in Albuquerque, Kathie was absolutely delighted that her brother was by her side. Unfortunately, Dad wasn’t completely sure he knew the woman who was sitting next to him.
The next day was somewhat brighter, in that Dad recognized his sister. But the communication was very difficult. Kathie was getting irritated that her brother wouldn’t or couldn’t talk to her.
As our time in Albuquerque drew to a close, we were sitting in a small lobby at the residence Aunt Kathryn lived in. She was frustrated by not being able to communicate with her brother. She asked to be taken to her room. I leaned down to Dad and said, “You’re sister is leaving, Dad. You’ll never see her again. Isn’t there something you’d like to say to her.”
Dad indicated there was, and Carol wheeled her mother so they were close. Dad still couldn’t get the words out, so he leaned over and kissed his sister. Over eight decades of love, expressed with a simple kiss on the cheek. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
Dad died about 4 months later, Aunt Kathryn died about a year later.
Dad, thank you for the humor. Thank you for Johnny Sauce. However, I will not thank you for the bad singing.
But for me, right now, the most poignant memory is that of my father and his sister, Kathie. My sister, Karla and I had flown to Phoenix, picked Dad up, and flown with him to Albuquerque, NM to see his sister. My cousin, Carol (Aunt Kathryn’s daughter) was instrumental in bringing about this event. My dad was 87 and suffering from Parkinson’s disease, and Aunt Kathryn was 96. Dad was soft spoken all his life, but Parkinson’s disease had made him even softer and slower. And he was dealing with either Parkinson’s related dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. Aunt Kathryn’s sight was almost gone and her hearing was, well that of a 96 year old woman.
The first night we were in Albuquerque, Kathie was absolutely delighted that her brother was by her side. Unfortunately, Dad wasn’t completely sure he knew the woman who was sitting next to him.
The next day was somewhat brighter, in that Dad recognized his sister. But the communication was very difficult. Kathie was getting irritated that her brother wouldn’t or couldn’t talk to her.
As our time in Albuquerque drew to a close, we were sitting in a small lobby at the residence Aunt Kathryn lived in. She was frustrated by not being able to communicate with her brother. She asked to be taken to her room. I leaned down to Dad and said, “You’re sister is leaving, Dad. You’ll never see her again. Isn’t there something you’d like to say to her.”
Dad indicated there was, and Carol wheeled her mother so they were close. Dad still couldn’t get the words out, so he leaned over and kissed his sister. Over eight decades of love, expressed with a simple kiss on the cheek. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
Dad died about 4 months later, Aunt Kathryn died about a year later.
Dad, thank you for the humor. Thank you for Johnny Sauce. However, I will not thank you for the bad singing.
But most of all, thank you for the love.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment