They say opposites attract. I’m not so sure I believe that, but in my daddy and mama’s case, it was true. Their personalities couldn’t have been any more different. My mama was a loving, feisty spit fire. My daddy was a patient, laid back, funny man. I have always said I am 99% my daddy and 1% my mama. I am like my daddy; But, I don’t think I can live up to the size of his big, kind, humble and selfless heart.
My daddy loved to tell stories and laugh. He had a southern drawl and North Georgia mountain vocabulary like few I’ve ever known. I loved to hear him retell the story of when the tractor ran over him. “I knew I’z in trouble when that there tire runned over me. It sounded plum like a hound dog crunchin’ on a possum. I mean to tell you; I hear’d my bones a crunchin’.
All Smiles
Daddy was such a smart, talented man; he could fix or build anything. Alzhimer’s eventually took that ability away, but it never took his grin or joy. He continued to be a happy man and wore a smile most of the time. When he entered the nursing home, the staff commented how they loved him because he was always joking with them. During weekend visits at the home, we all had tears from laughing running down our faces. My favorite quote is “a day without laughter is a wasted day”. Humor has always abounded in my family; I am thankful my parents passed down their sense of wittiness.
At his funeral the pastor said, “Whenever I saw him coming, he always had that “Kenneth grin”. As he entered the hospital, which unexpectedly became the last week of his life, he continued to smile. The day before he left us, a nurse came in and said, “I never got to be your dad’s nurse, but I once came in briefly to assist a coworker. When we moved him, he grimaced from the pain, but after, he looked at me, smiled, and said “thank you. He is the most pleasant man.”
Kind Heart
My daddy also had a big heart. He was perpetually kind: always helping others, expecting nothing in return, and never wanting recognition. He was always ready, willing, and able to assist many widows from church. Free of charge, he cleaned gutters, raked leaves, and did repairs. He even drove one widow to and from her colonoscopy! (See blog: Only Human).
I was at the hospital for his last five days. Covid made things more difficult. I wore a drape, face mask, shield, and gloves, even when sleeping in the chair. With Corona restrictions, I found myself alone with daddy for his last two days. I listened to the constant beeps of machines and the sound of daddy breathing.
Every day the doctor would come in. At first it was always, “It won’t be much longer.” But, daddy’s heart continued to stay solid. The last three times the doctor came in, he would simply state, “That is one strong man”.
Saturday Nights
Daddy was a hard worker. When not working at the Ford plant, he was outside laboring in the garden or restoring a car. But Saturday evenings were spent with us. My mind drifted to Saturdays long ago. He always washed and waxed the car, so it would be shiny and clean for church the next day. We often helped or washed our bikes beside him. Saturday’s supper was either T-bone steaks, homemade fries, and salad or Chef Boyardee pizza made by me.
We would then all go into the den and watch Hee Haw. After the blonde girl waved saying, “That’s All!”, he would get out his Kiwi shoe shine kit and “get to rubbin” his church shoes until they beamed. Meanwhile, mama rolled my hair with pink sponge rollers. Daddy was not one to read, but every Saturday night, he studied his Sunday School lesson.
When it was time for bed on Saturdays, he would get out the oversized Children’s Bible and let us pick a story. My two brothers and I got in one bed while he read the chosen selection. If it were my turn to pick, I would once again pick Daniel in the Lion’s Den.
When the story was over, we would go to our own beds, and he would tuck each of us in. Daddy would lie down beside me while I said my bedtime prayers. I had to sleep with a vaporizer a lot, but even with it on, I could hear him breathe. I think he occasionally dozed off from the long week of work. Then he’d kiss my forehead and whisper, “Good night, Donnie Boo.”
As my mind drifted back, I noticed his breaths had become a little labored. He began inhaling and exhaling through his mouth. Now normally, that loud noise might grate on my nerves, but as I curled up in the chair to sleep, I found it comforting. It took me back to those Saturday nights of my childhood. I drifted off to the sound of his breathing, not knowing it would be my last night with him.
Strong Heart
During the next day, I sat in the chair reading a book and grading some tests. Later in the evening while texting a friend, I noticed the rhythm of his breath began to change, so I watched the monitor. His blood pressure and oxygen were going down quickly. A nurse walking by, noticed me standing over him with concerned eyes and entered the room. With a trembling voice I managed to ask, “Is he near passing?”
She looked at the monitor, “Normally I’d say yes, but although his oxygen and pressure are dropping, his heart rate is still 121. He has a strong heart.”
When she left, I sat down on his bed and watched. The numbers kept going down, but his heart stayed steady. Then it happened. It began dropping too; 90, 89, 88…. At that moment the reality of being alone hit me. It was the loneliest I had ever felt in my life.
“I don’t want to be here alone.” I texted my friend.
His response was: “You’re not alone. God has chosen you to be there”.
I realized the magnitude of that last statement. I was given the privilege of being with my daddy as he was going home. As I sat down on the bed beside him, I felt at peace.
Take my Hand
Daddy’s favorite music were hymns, bluegrass, and old country. So, I clicked my Pandora app and selected the Statler Brothers station. I placed my phone on the pillow by his ear. Remarkably, the first song that began to play was Take My Hand, Precious Lord. Sometimes God seems so hidden, but other times He makes His presence clearly known to me. Not only was that the perfect song for the occasion, but it is what was already engraved on his and mama’s headstone. I took off my glove and rubbed his arm as I watched the oxygen and respirations flatline. His pulse was still 80.
God always knows what I need. As the song ended, my all time favorite, Carrie Underwood’s version of How Great Thou Art, began to play. During this song, I watched his pulse slowly go down, down, down, until it ceased.
I wasn’t surprised it took so long for his heart to give up; it was always the strongest, biggest part of him.
Humble and Kind
Recently, I heard the song, Humble and Kind by Tim McGraw. Daddy came to mind. I can just hear him saying so many of these lyrics:
Hold the door, say “please”, say “thank you”
Don’t steal, don’t cheat, and don’t lie
I know you got mountains to climb
But always stay humble and kind
When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you
When the work you put in is realized
Let yourself feel the pride
But always stay humble and kind
Don’t expect a free ride from no one
Don’t hold a grudge or a chip and here’s why
Bitterness keeps you from flyin’
Always stay humble and kind
Don’t take for granted the love this life gives you
When you get where you’re goin’
Don’t forget turn back around
And help the next one in line
Always stay humble and kind.
