Eulogy for my father Jun 17 '03    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet The Bottom Line Yes, I'm sappy. Not sexy. Deal with it. Make sure your loved ones know they are loved every day. You don't know when it will be your last. With Father's Day this past weekend, my thoughts keep returning to my father who died in January 1999. I miss him still. I wrote this a few years ago on the now closed Written by Me but realized that the feelings still haven't changed. I know it's a bit late for Father's Day, but I hope no one minds me posting this here. If your dad is still alive, please give him a hug from me. And yes, I do cry when I hear Mike and the Mechanics "In the Living Years" Looking at the calendar today I realized it has been two years since my father died. It was not that it was sudden – for the last five years of his life he had many health problems: heart attack and quad bypass, uncontrolled diabetes, a broken ankle that would not heal for three years (he kept walking on it), loss of eye sight, and finally lung cancer. (Before you ask, yes, he smoked two to three packs a day; his last cigarette was in the hospital parking lot on the way to his first angioplasty). We knew his health was poor and tried to see him when we could. But we had just moved back to the states and were in the process of buying and moving into a house. We last saw him Thanksgiving of 1998. Christmas 1998 was the week right after we closed and we were remodeling the kitchen. We figured we would go visit for his 53rd birthday at the end of January. No one really knew how fast he was going down. Then we got the phone call. He was in the hospital again. Not a major concern. He had been in and out of the hospital for years. Everyone said we could see him for his birthday. My sister called a few days later. His kidneys had shut down. We knew what that meant. The end was very near. Our shipment was supposed to be delivered the next day. We tried to call the moving company and change the date. They could not. So we asked to them to come very early and just unpack the truck but not the boxes. We had boxes to the ceiling in every room but we could finally jump in the car and head to the hospital. We had to travel from Rochester New York to Dayton Ohio. The trip was extra long not just for the reason for going but there was a blizzard in Buffalo. We were going 25 mph on the highway but we could not turn around. We found the hospital at two a.m. When we said which floor we were heading to, a nurse volunteered to lead us there. It was on the top floor of the hospital. My dad was in so much pain that he didn’t recognize us at all. He just was in spasms of pain thrashing about the bed. We didn’t really get to talk to him at all. My mom took all our visiting time. I realize she was going through much – but I NEVER GOT A CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE because she wanted us to focus on her needs. We left at 4 to get a few hours sleep figuring we’d come back and say good bye in the morning. I will admit, we were impressed with the pain he was in. We knew death would be the only release for him. Knowing it was not the most biblical prayer, but we asked God that if there was an angel of death like Andrew on “Touched by an Angel” to please send him. My dad really needed release. At seven a.m. the phone rang. It was the hospital. We were needed. Why did they just not say it was too late – there was not more tomorrow or delays? For we were too late. He was gone The next week was full of travel and tears. He had wanted to be buried in St. Hedwig’s in Detroit next to his mom and his dad so all the arrangements had to be made. He was not a perfect dad. He was by an alcoholic mom and came home many days as a teenager to find his belongings all over the yard when his mom went into a rage and decided she did not want any kids. Most of his close relations where wife beaters. Dad being the eldest was responsible for taking care of his young brother (who died of age 24 of alcoholism) and sister (who ended up marrying a guy who sexually abused their five kids). Dad was the most stable and normal member of his family. He did have rages. I remember learning at a young age how to talk him out of beating cause at times a spanking could mean being thrown across the room. Or the Thanksgiving he threw a plate on the floor and it flew across the room and embedded in the wall about ½ an inch. I called the operator (pre-911 days) more than once when he and mom fought (I was the oldest and it was my job to protect the younger ones.) But there was the other side. I was never athletic. But in third grade I wanted to join the girl’s baseball league in Ft. Wayne. They had organization for the other three parts of the city but not for mine. Instead of coaching or managing he ended up being Vice-President of the league and organizing it all. If he had not stepped up I would have never learned to play baseball. Many evening he would be out in the backyard playing catch with my sister and I to help hone our skills so we could move out of right field. I did end up being the catcher. Or there was the year 15 of us girls who had signed up for Junior Girl Scouts were told that there was no troop for us. They did not even warn us ahead of time. We had gone to the mass meeting where the troop leaders called you to the front. Fifteen of us were lost with no leader. My mother was already leading my sister’s Brownie troop and could not do two troops. So my dad stepped up again. It was the best Girl Scout troop ever. We did not get to have over night camping trips because the council would not let dads sleep in the same campsite as the girls. But when we would go on hikes, we went through the mud. Even if it was two feet deep. We made real wooden games for local nursing homes and learned how to use power tools. It was a wonderful experience. One year for the school science fair I wanted to do the project where potatoes are used as a battery to light a light Dad quizzed me for hours until I knew everything I could about electricity. We burned up mom’s blender cutting the salt that I needed to increase the flow of electrons. But at the time, all he cared about was helping me doing my best. In high school my sister and I hated to ride the bus to school. (There was lots of drug use at the stop and on the bus). So as long as we would get him and make his breakfast we had a ride to school every morning. Dad was always interested and would listen to our concerns even when we were teens. When I was ready to start driving dad spent many Sunday afternoons with me at the empty mall parking lot (Blue laws were still in effect in Missouri). I drove the car all over the lot including his favorite “test” backing up between the handicap signs. In high school mom and dad joined the booster club. They were at every football game selling programs (that I got to type up in Wordstar on the 60 pound portable computer dad would bring home from work) to raise funds for special events at the high school. They usually helped plan the after-graduation all-night party. Dad would get to be the bouncer and the one to walk folks out to their cars in the middle of the night. For some reason most kids were not bothered by dad as a chaperone and they would be walking and joking all the way to the car and back. In college all my friends loved my dad. After moving me in the dorm one year, dad took me and about six of my friends to Olive Garden. We were there three hours laughing and joking. He even got the waiter’s phone number for one of my friends. When my dad would come to pick me up for a weekend (I did not have a car until senior year), many of my friends would race me to see who could hug my dad first. They thought of him as a cuddly bear that was always open to listen to them. My dad did not correspond much but when I was down and needed a lift, a card from him would appear in my mailbox. The words would not be many but he would say just the right things. When I decided I wanted to go to Taiwan to teach English no one was more supportive than my dad. He and mom helped me get my visa, sell my car for an airplane ticket, and go off to explore new worlds. He always let me know I had the brains and the ability to do whatever I wanted. While I was overseas and needed to talk, dad was always easier to talk to than mom was. When I became a Christian it was dad that accepted it with no problems (mom yelled at me my first visit home for many hours for turning my back on my family values). When I got engaged to hubby, it was right before dad’s first surgery. Even facing that, dad was full of encouragement to me. He was always there for me. But then in the end I was not there for him as I should have been. We should have been there his last Christmas. The house would have waited. I should have told mom that I cared about her feelings and emotions but I need to spend that time with dad saying good bye. But I didn’t. So now all I can do is share this with you. To let him know in some small way that he has not been forgotten. If you are anywhere near St. Hedwig’s, please go find the grave of Richard Okragly. He’s buried near the road and let him know his daughter really loved him.

Read all comments (24)|Write your own comment

Write an essay on this topic.