One Last Joke on Me: Thanks Dad

If you've read my posts, you know my dad passed away March 13, 2010. We miss him a lot but he will always be with us, in our personalities, in our behaviors and in our stories. Dad was a huge fan a good joke, told many of his own and loved to play tricks on people, including his own children.

We gave one good final joke to dad just after he passed. My sister and I, and her husband were still gathered at the foot of his bed. Dad was gone and we had cried. Now we waited for a minister to come and pray with us. We needed it. The only religious person that could be found happened to be a Catholic priest, an Indian Catholic priest whose thick accent and rapid delivery made it even harder for us Lutherans to understand what he was saying. And he gave Dad last rights. After he left we laughed so hard, it almost seemed a sacrilege. But we knew Dad was laughing with us. It seemed fitting to laugh just once more with Dad. But that wasn't to be the last time he made me chuckle. That came in a motel room in Florida.

As executor, I traveled to Florida to visit my folks' place there. I cleaned out several bags of trash, carefully searching every nook and cranny for anything of either sentimental value to my family or monetary value to Dad's estate. And then I found it, the unexpected treasure, something I couldn't believe Dad had forgotten. In the middle dresser drawer, under a pile of Christmas decorations, I found a One Thousand Dollar Bill!!!! Man, I've never seen one of those before, how cool!

It was old and taped together. Dad liked to collect coins and money so I thought maybe this is a rare $1000 or maybe his emergency stash and he forgot it was there. Then I also saw a $20. Picking up the twenty and unfolding it, I discovered it was a coupon from a bank, not money at all. That made me suspicious of the $1000. Maybe it was some of Dad's joke money, but I had to be sure. I would take it to the bank.

I drove back to my motel a few hours later, very aware that I had what could be a lot of money in my purse. I immediately sent an email to my sister so she would have an accounting of what I had found, then I excitedly phoned Thomas. If anyone knew what a thousand dollars looked like, I figured it would be him, but no he had never seen one either.

Some time passed when my motel room phone rang. It was Thomas saying he had gone online and looked up one thousand dollar bills. He asked me who was on the front. I told him. He was silent. Hmmm, apparently that is not the correct president. I read the bill more closely and started to laugh out loud into the phone. "OH my goodness! Oh my goodness!" was about all I could say. Then I found my voice. "Thank you Daddy! Thank you." My dad had played one last joke on me and I am so grateful for that moment. I will never forget it.

The joke? Take a close look at this bill and see why I laughed. Daddy, I am really going to miss you but I also know you are always very close by.




Not the United States of America but the Untied States of Anemia. Signed by A. Phoneybill and U. Cantcashit. LOL!

A Elegy for Dad

I have a special journal I call my Book of Everyday Wonders. It is reserved for special shining moments in everyday life.

I never expected to write in it about death, and in fact I didn’t. I wrote about my mom when she passed December 12, 2009 and now about my dad who passed March 13, 2010, but these entries are about wonderful lives, not deaths. They belong in this book because Mom and Dad were beautiful shining moments in my life.

It is impossible to sum up 76 years in a short time, so I didn’t try. Instead I decided to share some highlights.

Mom and Dad were the constants in our lives. Friends, boyfriends, husbands, homes, and jobs changed, but Mom and Dad were always there, to love, to support, to advise, to cheer and to dry a tear.

From Dad, we got solid discipline. We learned to watch our money and to question those things that seemed like givens to everybody else, to be sure it was just right for us. Just because everybody else did it, didn’t mean it was the best decision or in our best interest. He taught us to stand on our own two feet.

From Dad, we learned about hard honest work and to be sure we knew what we were doing. He told us not to sign anything unless we read it. He once told me "Never make a bet you know you can’t win or a promise you can’t keep." You see, Mom and Dad both enjoyed games of chance but Dad also knew that he could only win at those things when he could use his skills. Who would place a bet if he knew he would lose? Not me. Dad taught me better.

Dad taught us the difference between a want and a need. Many times I said "Dad, I need it." If I said I needed a bike, Dad replied "You don’t need a bike, you need transportation. You want a bike." Knowing the difference between a want and a need helps us to be satisfied with what we have. Sometimes he drove us crazy, but it made us better people and more self-reliant.
And Dad was funny. Oh he could annoy us with his slow decision making but he delighted us with his humor, even when we were embarrassed by it.

He’d walk into a store and looking for the security camera, acting like a camera hound, all scrunched down and excited he’d say "Where’s the camera, where’s the camera." We begged him to stop but missed it when he didn’t do it.

Many times, I heard Dad ask a waitress if she had frog legs or chicken wings, then tell her to hop or fly and get him a drink of water. They always smiled at him, he was a charmer with his twinkling blue grey eyes. The server might ask "How was everything?" We all knew his reply before he spoke a word, "I don’t know. I didn’t have everything."

He even shared with me how when he was younger he’d bet the girls a nickle he could kiss them without touching them. Dad always carried a pocket full of quarters. I guess that was an exception to his betting rule.

He played lots of tricks and jokes on us. Every April Fools Day he woke us with the same joke "It’s snowing outside!" We were April Fools, we always fell for it. There was the bloody finger in the box and so many others.

Dad was my BFF, best friend forever, my dance partner, my favorite teacher. He taught me to ride my bike, pulled slivers from my fingers and dug cinders from my knees. He built a life for us that we are proud of, and he was proud of us.

In the end, it was us who worked for him, trying desperately to get him home. But he was in the hands of a higher power. God had a different home in mind for him and he’s there now, with Mom.

When I was four years old, I asked Mom for a new dad. She was divorced and dating. They married on my birthday. He was my best gift ever and I am grateful for the 52 years we had and for everything he gave me.

Dad, you are already missed and I will love you forever.

Scotland the Brave
Hark when the night is fallingHear!
Hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling,
Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.

Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Scotland the brave.

High in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maiden's eyes.

Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss Of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.
　
Clan Ranald: My Hope is Constant in Thee
Long Live MacDonald!

Looking for Miracles / Finding Grace

Yes I am hoping for a huge miracle for my dad as things do not look promising right now. And as for my own diagnosis, I don't want to deal with this. But I'm not the first woman to go through it and I am lucky it has been found early. That's a miracle. I think my doctor is a hero for finding it.

The miracle of my parent's 51 years together is something to acknowledge and perhaps their deep love for each other is why dad now stands at the door. And there is the miracle of Gilda's Club finding me before we knew we needed each other.

It is human nature to try to make sense of the senseless and to understand why and how something happens. It is part of the grieving process too. There is a need to order things in some way to help ourselves cope, it is empowering.
So I find myself asking, why did we lose our old old dog, followed by my mom, now possibly my dad and why did I get my diagnosis at the same time? First reaction is to say it just isn't fair! But does fairness really have anything to do with it? Is there any sense that can be made of it?

Here is something I've been thinking about, though it really doesn't make it hurt any less, it does help me see the forces that work through our lives and perhaps it helps to let go a little and give the reins to a higher power.
When our dog Merlin was younger we used to take him everywhere with us, but in his last two years he couldn't go anywhere and Thomas carried him up and down the stairs. That meant we could not travel together. We looked for the silver lining and realized after he passed, we could now travel and had planned a nice vacation, however things have altered those plans slightly. The good news is that I don't have to be alone.
Anyway, if Merlin were still alive, we could not have been together away from home to help my dad with mom's affairs or to help dad now. And Dad was mom's caregiver. If she were still alive when he is now so ill, I don't think she would have done too well with it. As for me, neither of parents may ever know what I am going through and that is a blessing. Is that a miracle too? And how about the fact that I had some regular storytelling programs cancelled due to the economy and testing, and some that decided to move their programs to April, May and June. Now I won't have to cancel them or at least can make other arrangements around them.
As much as I don't want to have any of this to deal with, I sure can see the miracles at work and I think maybe some angels are looking over my shoulder.
My goal is to keep moving forward with everything I do and plan to do, to be as cheerful and happy as I can, and if you ask me how I am doing, expect me to turn it back to you. How are you doing? That is how I am doing.