The Gift. Part I of 3
Dec. 11th, 2008 08:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cellboyUsually towards the end of the year 3 things happen. My birthday. Christmas. And New Years. These three things cause me to briefly reflect on my life. How the year has been so far, how the previous years were. And what can I do to better myself, and the year to follow. So this time I thought I would posts my thoughts on this:
This is part one of a three part post, of the people who in some way touched my life. Who in retrospect left me a part of themselves, in their own way to me. I call it a gift. This is also a tribute to them as well.
Through the experience of life's gains and losses we have learned to become what we are. Strengthening our weaknesses, or weakening our strengths. Sometimes through the loss of a loved one, in hindsight, we learn about ourselves and of others. Things that may of always been there, but we never saw. Or things newly discovered. This discovery, can be a gift. A gift to life itself. Here are some thoughts/experiences of me....
My dad and I were never close as I was growing up. Not sure why. But I always wanted (at the time) a dad that would come out and throw the football/baseball with me. He never did. I guess you could say he was a geek. A numbers man. Actually very smart (he had some ingenious patents on the drawing board). So on weekends, he was pushing the pencil quite a bit. He was however, for years, an avid tennis player. So when I was in in High School, when he was not with his weekend men friends, we did play tennis together. I know he loved me, but he was of that era; he just did not disclose that feeling openly. The baby of 15 children, I don't think his family had time to express love openly. They were pooped! My mom said all the time that my dad loved me. Yes he was generous at times. And that he did with material love. I guess I refused to see. I think deep down I know he did. But I guess I wanted more of his attention. Or just saying once he loved me.
Time goes by, then one day, my Dad comes down with ALS. Shocking as it is. He took it with courage. But unfortunately the thing he needed most, his arms and hands were the things that were attacked by the disease. He could no longer push the pencil, no longer play tennis, no longer draw or paint (he was a pretty good artist). All through those tough years he never complained. My mom would feed him. Help him. I was up often visiting. We became closer.
And he was kind and generous enough to volunteer, donate his time, as a test subject for UC Davis, for the researchers of ALS. In fact the test procedures fascinated him. He actually looked forward in going.
Then the day came. When the disease was now spreading. Having a hard time to breath, he was rushed to the hospital. It was spreading throughout the nervous system.
He stayed in the hospital. On oxygen. And there was no going back. He had the choice to live on machines for yrs, in a vegetative state. Yet he decided to take the other choice.
Early in the morning, on 4/4/89 we visited my father. He was not looking or doing well at all. You could almost see the disease eat him up. We talked, hugged, laughed a little. Then it started. His breathing getting more difficult. He wanted to talk to us individually. He spoke to my sister, my mom, and I separately.
It was my turn. And my dad said, looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes, that he was proud of me, and he *loved me*. That was his gift to me.
And it seemed that seconds later, he just collapsed into a coma. Never to wake. And died a short few hours later.
My lesson? Dad gave me a gift. On his death bed. But I later realized that he had been giving his gift, in his way all my life.
Sometimes, we want or expect people to love us the way we want them to. Not accepting them as they are, and accepting their loving us the best way they can.
Keep an open mind, communicate, and be understanding. Life is just too damn short to mess up.
This is part one of a three part post, of the people who in some way touched my life. Who in retrospect left me a part of themselves, in their own way to me. I call it a gift. This is also a tribute to them as well.
Through the experience of life's gains and losses we have learned to become what we are. Strengthening our weaknesses, or weakening our strengths. Sometimes through the loss of a loved one, in hindsight, we learn about ourselves and of others. Things that may of always been there, but we never saw. Or things newly discovered. This discovery, can be a gift. A gift to life itself. Here are some thoughts/experiences of me....
My dad and I were never close as I was growing up. Not sure why. But I always wanted (at the time) a dad that would come out and throw the football/baseball with me. He never did. I guess you could say he was a geek. A numbers man. Actually very smart (he had some ingenious patents on the drawing board). So on weekends, he was pushing the pencil quite a bit. He was however, for years, an avid tennis player. So when I was in in High School, when he was not with his weekend men friends, we did play tennis together. I know he loved me, but he was of that era; he just did not disclose that feeling openly. The baby of 15 children, I don't think his family had time to express love openly. They were pooped! My mom said all the time that my dad loved me. Yes he was generous at times. And that he did with material love. I guess I refused to see. I think deep down I know he did. But I guess I wanted more of his attention. Or just saying once he loved me.
Time goes by, then one day, my Dad comes down with ALS. Shocking as it is. He took it with courage. But unfortunately the thing he needed most, his arms and hands were the things that were attacked by the disease. He could no longer push the pencil, no longer play tennis, no longer draw or paint (he was a pretty good artist). All through those tough years he never complained. My mom would feed him. Help him. I was up often visiting. We became closer.
And he was kind and generous enough to volunteer, donate his time, as a test subject for UC Davis, for the researchers of ALS. In fact the test procedures fascinated him. He actually looked forward in going.
Then the day came. When the disease was now spreading. Having a hard time to breath, he was rushed to the hospital. It was spreading throughout the nervous system.
He stayed in the hospital. On oxygen. And there was no going back. He had the choice to live on machines for yrs, in a vegetative state. Yet he decided to take the other choice.
Early in the morning, on 4/4/89 we visited my father. He was not looking or doing well at all. You could almost see the disease eat him up. We talked, hugged, laughed a little. Then it started. His breathing getting more difficult. He wanted to talk to us individually. He spoke to my sister, my mom, and I separately.
It was my turn. And my dad said, looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes, that he was proud of me, and he *loved me*. That was his gift to me.
And it seemed that seconds later, he just collapsed into a coma. Never to wake. And died a short few hours later.
My lesson? Dad gave me a gift. On his death bed. But I later realized that he had been giving his gift, in his way all my life.
Sometimes, we want or expect people to love us the way we want them to. Not accepting them as they are, and accepting their loving us the best way they can.
Keep an open mind, communicate, and be understanding. Life is just too damn short to mess up.
