My father passed away yesterday at the age of 85 after a week of family hospice care at his home of fifty-five years. He’d had a good, full life. The Navy veteran, long time Boeing Engineer, and, after retirement, Home Depot employee, struggled physically after his stroke in 2002, but it never dampened his will or drive.
I took this pic just as the first basketball game started on Thursday. I had no idea it would be the last pic.
Before he passed on Thursday, Dad and I did something we’d never done. We turned on the March Madness basketball tournament at 9:30am and began watching March Madness together. I love basketball, so I thought I could share this with him (and I had control of the remotes). Though he likes sports, he always preferred football more.
Dad could no longer see the TV too well, so I ran the play-by-play scores by him and explained who was playing. He seemed to enjoy it. It was mostly just he and I as we rooted for the underdog teams as we juggled multiple games and channels. But, what he was really looking forward to was the 4pm game, which featured #1 seed Gonzaga, as that was his college Alma Mater.
Gonzaga is a Catholic school, but dad was no Catholic. In fact, I’d only learned the day before that while at Gonzaga, he got As and Bs in everything, except for the Ds he received in the religious classes. That sounded about right to me.
Just after 2pm on Thursday he decided, with his usual certainty and determination, that he was going to stand again and do a couple “pushups” (knee-bends using his walker). He hadn’t been out of bed in a week and a half, so we knew he was pretty week to be attempting this. His heart was only pushing about 20% of normal, due to heart failure, but, as he put it, “Goddammit”, he was going to do it. So, my wife, my mother and I helped him. He proceeded, with our help, to push himself off the bed twice.
By the second push, he was pretty tired, so we put him back into the bed. He immediately asked for my hand. That’s when I knew something was wrong, as he wasn’t one to hold my hand. Then, his breathing started to increase and a concern flashed across his eyes. While we soothed him, we could tell something had happened. He, of course, knew it, too.
The end came quickly and he suffered little. If he hadn’t been in the middle of dying, I am certain he would have appreciated the irony that a little exercise led to his passing, as loved to exercise, mostly lifting weights. Exercise made him feel alive most of his life, but in the end it led to his passing. I doubt he would have wanted it any other way.
We will miss him, but we are universally happy in his death. Between his stroke and increasing heart failure, he was a shell of his former self. At the end, he went out quickly and with dignity at home knowing he was loved (and with some gallows humor about the exercise). He was a good man and got what he deserved: PEACE.
PS…. for the record, Dad and I did share the Gonzaga game, though he showed little emotion as the Zags crushed their opponent, remaining pretty stiff throughout. It was only after the game that the funeral home came for the body. (I’m pretty sure dad is smiling, but shaking his head at me by this point).
Summer of 1981. Dad and I at Milk Lake in the Cascade Mountains jeeping with our Jeep Club
Dad and I in 2013.
