Dad went on 10 years ago. Both my brothers and I were there. “The Old Man” loved to hunt deer with us, usually somewhere up on Pleasantville Mountain. On the steep side near the top, there’s a big rock that lets a guy get out a ways and see down into the hollow down below. One of us nearly always hunted there while we spread out and hunted our way to the Jeep at the bottom. We’ve taken quite a few deer from that rock. He looked up at me and Dave and said “I’ll see you boys on the big rock”. Every year in deer season I make it a point to go to the big rock, and leave a cold beer and a cigarette. 7mm
"Preserving the Constitution, fighting off the nibblers and chippers, even nibblers and chippers with good intentions, was once regarded by conservatives as the first duty of the citizen. It still is." � Wesley Pruden
Dad talked to each of his five children separately near the end, he was dying of cancer. He told me how proud he was of me. He was only 42 when he passed, it was hard for him because his Father died when he was only 14 and knew how hard it would be on his five young children and young wife.
Dad went on 10 years ago. Both my brothers and I were there. “The Old Man” loved to hunt deer with us, usually somewhere up on Pleasantville Mountain. On the steep side near the top, there’s a big rock that lets a guy get out a ways and see down into the hollow down below. One of us nearly always hunted there while we spread out and hunted our way to the Jeep at the bottom. We’ve taken quite a few deer from that rock. He looked up at me and Dave and said “I’ll see you boys on the big rock”. Every year in deer season I make it a point to go to the big rock, and leave a cold beer and a cigarette. 7mm
I don’t recall my mother’s last words I had just finished feeding her lunch in the hospice when she lost consciousness and died three days later. 19 years ago.
My dad died in the hospice September 2019. He had been unconscious for about 8 hours, he surfaced to full consciousness and said clear as day “I want a popsicle”. I fed him the popsicle which he ate with relish. He went unconscious and died the next day.
Dad is still alive and kickin', but..... his dad, while lying in the bed that he was going to die in, asked grandma '...Tam (her name was Tamsy) why is this taking so long???...'
"...A man's rights rest in three boxes: the ballot box, the jury box and the cartridge box..." Frederick Douglass, 1867
My dad is still around. My Paternal grandfather had diabetes and they put him in a care center at the end of his life because they had to amputate part of his foot. It damned hard for him as he was always very independent and helped everyone else. He was bound and determined to get the hell out of there and back home to see grandma. Well, he finally did. He walked into the house, gave my grandmother a kiss and died immediately afterwards of a massive heart attack. He achieved that final goal and signed off.
He always took me deer hunting when I was a kid with his old 30-40 Krag. He was a highly decorated WW2 vet. At the end of the war, he was given a commission to be in charge of the maintenance for the entire US navy. The whole town showed up for his funeral. His and my first wife’s funerals are the only ones where I ever shed a tear.
longarm; Good morning to you sir, I hope the day in your part of the world is as mild and bright as it is here and that this finds you well.
Thanks for the thought provoking thread and thanks to the respondents who've chosen to share with us, both the pleasant and less so memories.
While it absolutely wasn't always so, as I left home at 15, my father and I made a concerted effort to mend fences afterward and as much as possible be on good terms with each other.
He'd had his first major heart attack at 51, had several others which nearly took him as well and finally his 3rd stroke took him 32 years later. As some know as well of me, I was involved in an auto incident at 15 - after I'd left home - which brought me to the very edge of the next world, so we sorta had that in common.
When we'd meet then, we'd do our best to spit out what was on our mind of late, since we were both aware that it might well be the last time we'd speak in this life.
Things I recall him exhorting me were gems like, "Your life is the only Bible some people are ever going to read son, do your best to live what you believe."
Another one was, "If you're not learning something, best look around as you're likely dead!"...then he'd laugh in his low chuckle that would shake his whole body, touch you on the arm the way old guys do and add, "But you're going to find there's some things you don't want to learn again..."
The afternoon before he passed, he and Mom had returned from my elder brother's 50th Birthday back on the prairies and it had been the first time Dad was cleared to fly in decades so he was feeling in top shape.
We were standing in my shop, either working on a rifle or some project and were just going over who of my relatives they'd seen and talked to, the state of farming in Saskatchewan, that sort of thing. He stopped and said to me, "You know Dwayne I'm going to turn 83 this year and I can't make sense of that. Somewhere I've misplaced about 30 years as I don't feel much older than mid 50 or so. You know, it's been a faster trip than I thought it'd be."
That's what stuck with me from the last conversation we had, Dad being Dad and telling me in his way to make my days count for something.
By most measures Dad wasn't a rich man when he passed, but the church was standing room only for his services, cars parked up and down the road and the parking lot packed, so I'd say by that he'd swung a pretty wide loop for an old retired farmer who moved west 23 years previous.
Anyways sir, that's my recollections of a man who I was proud to call both a friend and my father. I'm turning into "that old guy" more and more these days, sometimes even touching the young guys on the arm when I want them to understand I mean what I'm trying to say.
These days I'm trying to still be useful, as anymore that's what I find the most rewarding personally and in the end, history will judge me just the same way it will all of us I suppose.
Thanks for letting me think for a bit and attempt to articulate a response. All the best to you folks and stay well.
My step dad and I got closer, the older he and I got. I got a call from my mom that we was going back in and I should get there. Flew back the next morning and got to see him for a few days as things progressed. We had a little small talk. Nothing too deep because neither he nor I were very open with feelings. I was there though. Holding his hand.
My Dad died 9 years ago, the day before he was to turn 91. He had been quite ill for several months and was in a hospital in Bennington VT. I drove from Chicago to VT and spent several days visiting him in the hospital. He would lapse in and out of consciousness, but when he was awake we’d talk about old hunting and fishing memories we shared. Finally, I had to leave and I said...”Dad, you’re the best father I could ever have had”. He smiled and said “Thanks Bud”. He died the next week and my baby sister, who is a nurse and lived in New England, was there in his last day.
"Thank you son" after i gave him a drink of water.
the consolidation of the states into one vast republic, sure to be aggressive abroad and despotic at home, will be the certain precursor of that ruin which has overwhelmed all those that have preceded. Robert E Lee ~Molɔ̀ːn Labé Skýla~
My stepdad died a while back. Went to the funeral for mom. Eh, I still think I should have skipped it. Condescending fuggin dweeb. Never liked the bastard.