Gifted One

Gifted One

My dad and I were very close. When I was younger I always wanted to hang on to his hand so I would say “Yet me hang on Yover”. Dad was a milkman and I used to go on the route with him. I had to take the orders up to the homes and bring the money back to dad. His leg bothered him so his movement was slowing. He had a sore on his leg that was the result of a car accident years ago and it would not heal. He had a skin graft done and it failed. Then another and this one took. He was healing nicely and finally getting back on his feet.

One day I took my oldest daughter K for a walk. Dad stayed home. He was just lounging around still in his jammies. We weren’t gone long and when we came back, dad was laying on the living room floor listening to music. He loved music. He sang in the choir in church. He had many friends that were also choir members. Being a devout catholic, after mass they usually met at the local bar which was kiddy corner from the church. They had to wetten their whistle, play a couple games of euchre or cribbage and put a nickel in the jukebox and sing some more.

Time for supper dad…dad, time for supper…c’mon Eug, time to eat. He tried mumbling something but we could not make it out. I called the ambulance. Back in them days, we did not get the fast response as we do now with EMS. It took almost an hour before the ambulance finally came for dad. He was rushed to the hospital with a severe stroke. With a stroke, you need to thin the blood asap. This was not done. It hit on his left side of the brain and affected his right side of the brain. His walking, talking, singing, eating, showering all ceased. He was taken to the VA and they did not even start therapy on him. Reason---he had a blockage in his groin and if he stubbed his toe it could move to his heart. So, they didn’t want to waste anyones time with therapy. They were thinking he was going to die within minutes, hours, days. They sent him home with me, my hubby, and at that time our oldest daughter K.

I was bitter…

Dad still would go to the bar and drink and sing in his own voice but this time a voice where his words are unrecognizable. Dad would stumble and fall and that darn blockage that could have taken his life never moved to his heart.

He passed away 9 years later. I was not bitter anymore. I was so happy to have shared 9 more years with my dad. I was the lucky one. I had received a gift. A gift of having someone special in my life for an extra 9 years. I am a gifted one.

When dad died, we were all at his side in the hospital. Did the stroke take his life? No…Did the blockage take his life? No…

He died of gangrene of the stomach at the age of 55.

Dad…I miss you!