I'm Proud He Is My Dad

Just a few short weeks ago my father had a dream. That morning I went to his room early to see if he needed his pain medication. The cancer he was battling had already shattered his left leg and was having its way with the rest of his body. Unlike other mornings when he was sitting on the edge of the bed in pain, this time he was still laying down next to my mom. He had a look of happiness.

He told me about his dream. He was taking a group of children on a field trip, to see Jacob's ladder, the ladder to Heaven described in the Book of Genesis. He sang songs with the children on the bus. He took them to see the ladder. And when some children were lost, my dad said he went to find them and brought them back.

Then he smiled at me and said,"… and I was walking!" You see, the cancer first took away his ability to walk without pain. Then it took it completely away. In his dream, Dad was walking again!

I saw God in my dad's eyes and face that day. Not figuratively, mind you, it was real. When he first told me about his dream and again later when he told my mom.

I thought back to when my dad taught Sunday school. He taught for many years and not just while his own children were attending, but long after. As a kid, it was strange for me to be in a class taught by my father. I was somewhat embarrassed.

That was a common feeling for me growing up. My dad was a photographer who was a wedding photographer and liked to take pictures of scenery. My dad was a salesman. He sold cameras for a living. My best friend Jimmy's dad was a photographer too, except he worked for the police department and was a police photographer. For a kid, that's some tough "dad" competition.

My dad was in the Korean War and was a platoon leader. He rarely spoke about it. My friend Norman's dad was in WWII and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Norman had lots of stories.

I learned a lot about my dad recently. I learned I really didn't know him at all.

So many people would come up to my dad these last several months, recognizing him from his days selling cameras. After more than 15 years, people who were complete strangers would ask if he used to sell cameras at The Fair or one of the other stores he managed. I hope he always noticed how proud I was to hear that. How many sales people do you remember from yesterday, never mind over a decade ago!

Last Thursday my dad made a very difficult decision. With cancer winning the battle, my parents expressed a desire to stay together and we, their children, made sure it was so. The nursing facility had asked Dad earlier in the week if he were to get sick, did he want to go to the hospital. He had said yes, he wanted to go to the hospital if he got sick.

Well, he got very sick on Thursday. I asked if he wanted to go to the hospital or stay at the nursing facility with Mom. He decided without hesitancy and without question that he wanted to stay with my mom. He repeated his wishes three times to the nursing facility. He did not go to the hospital.

My mom held his hand day and night as the illness progressed. Dad spoke with more and more difficulty, in both clarity and thought. He seemed to be selling cameras one day. He was on a ship or a cruise the next. Last night my brother and sister told me he was singing "Row, row, row the boat" and "You are my sunshine". This was confusing to all of us, my dad played keyboards but I don't remember him ever singing.

I now know why he was singing. He lived his dream today. I know because he told me tonight. He brought the children to Jacob's ladder. They sang on the bus. He found the lost children. He brought them to Heaven, just as his life had taught him to do. My dad is filled with joy. My dad is walking again. My dad is there, holding my mom again.

Dad passed away earlier today. I'm proud he is my Dad.

Comments

[Jan Tkaczyk]

Beautiful, Wayne!
Here is what I wrote for my mom.

While You Lay Sleeping

While you lay sleeping
With the peace that only comes to
Those who have lived a life with God
A life unfettered by doubts or envy or greed.
I try to capture the memories
That dart like fireflies around my head.

Your blue dress with silver ribbons
Swirls above your ballet slippered feet
Hands linked with dad’s
For a night of dancing.

Your crisp, white nurse’s uniform
Unruffled from days on your feet at the drugstore
And long walks to and from town to home.
Your smile, your hair pulled back with Tortoise clips.

On hands and knees washing the dark green
Tiles of the kitchen floor
A clothespin in your mouth as
You stand in a cold breeze
That leaves the sheets stiff and taut
Like frosted panes of glass.

The rustle of your skirt as you slide across the
Slick, shiny red upholstery of your new Impala.
Your first new car.

Proudly aproned as you place another home-cooked meal
On the starched white tablecloth
That tells of your perfection
Your love.

Your voice, true and clear in joyous celebration
As together we sing, “On Eagles’ Wings”
The sounds of Matovani
Filling the house on Sundays after church
The smell of a roast cooking in the oven for dinner.

Candlelight, hurricane lamps and stories told by
House guests who came summer after summer
To the Stratford Road Guest House
Where they felt like family.

Backyard parties for the Golden Anchor singers
Show tunes, laughter, and lasagna
Always a driveway packed with cars
And always more in the kitchen!

Name tags…”volunteer”
Proudly displaying your service to Cape Cod Tech
Your “Mom” badge at Yarmouth Rotary Club meetings
Your “Phish” pin..your Hospice I.D.
Always giving to others.

You are going to die soon and I haven’t
Captured all these fireflies that dart about me.
I am trying to hold them, but there are so many
I guess I am not surprised.

I made it another day!
God love you.
If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it!
I am a people person.
On me!
How I will miss, “It’s Mom”, when I answer the phone.
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
I don’t want. I don’t waste. I don’t regret.
You taught me all these things.

Your tastes were modest.
Your life frugal.
Your gifts many.
You are loved.
You will be remembered.
You have set a wonderful example for all of us.
Your last words were, “I love you”.
How perfect!

[Normand Patenaude Jr]

Very nice,Wayne!Your Dad was most certainly a great guy!!