What would I change

We often wonder, if I could, what would I change.  Ten years ago my dad had a heart attack followed by cardiac arrest that left him dead on the living room floor for fifteen minutes.  The EMT's arrived in 3 minutes and revived him after working furiously.  My dad spent the next six weeks in a comma in the hospital.

In a miraculous way he woke up.  The diagnosis was determined shortly thereafter, he had moderate brain damage.  It mainly affected his mid range memory.  Everything that had basically happened between his children being born and the present was very foggy to say the least.  Lots of questions and those questions were repeated often as well.

Families deal with mental disease and brain trauma in lots of ways.  For me, I was just grateful to have one more day.  So in those last ten years we have caught a few more fish, worked on my truck, saw a few more movies, entertained his grand kids and given me a few more memories.

I often wonder if the reason God let my dad comeback was for me.  I was selfish. I was and am not sure I am ready to lose him yet.  I am not sure what he got out of these last years but I am grateful and am a bit more prepared for the day that he is gone.

Shaving

I wanted to learn to shave and my dad said once you start you have to do it everyday otherwise you look like a bum.  So I waited, and waited until I turned 14 and than after about 1 year I realized I hated shaving.  My dad would remind me, if you don't shave everyday you look like a bum.

Than the day came that I wanted to learn to fly fish and my dad quickly pointed out to me that it was a lot like shaving...if you don't do it everyday you'll look like a bum.  So I took that to heart and I am proud to say that I am pretty solid with a fly rod after years  of practice...unfortunately I still hate to shave and my dad still ask's if my razor is broken.

Lesson learned, just not sure the way my dad intended. 

Strength

My dad has has always been a strong silent figure in my life.  Never quick with a compliment, always willing to keep you grounded, but he knew how to keep me motivated.  I remember playing basketball in the driveway for hours.  My dad would come out after he got home from work, read the newspaper and needed a cigarette.  He would always stand leaning over the fence watching, than the inevitable would happen, "Can you make 10 in a row this time?"
So to the free throw line I would go with a quick "of course."  I could make free throws at a 20 to 50 in a row clip regularly but that always changed once my dad stepped to the court.   He would only talk if I got to 7 and then it would be, " only 3 more to go..."
Somewhere in those last 3 shots, the release would be slightly wrong and I would miss.
"Looks like you still have some practicing to do."  Simple to the point.

"Wait dad let me shoot again."

"Wouldn't be 10 in row now."  Away he would head to the house, smoke trailing him.

I would almost guarantee the next 10 would fall perfectly through the net, but I knew it didn't count.   So how important were those shots?  Everyone wants to be the big time player in life and the only way that happens is practice, belief and being able to perform in those big moments.

Thanks Dad!  I can credit a great bit of my success to your hidden lessons.

Life is bittersweet.

The first time I went hunting, my dad took me.  30 30 in hand, limited practice shots we were fired but we were ready.   Dad said take your time and make a good shot.  As we drove, sure enough he found me a doe sitting on a hillside, one shot one deer.

 Today my dad went with his grandsons and I on DiMaggio's first deer hunt.  We found lots of deer and low and behold he decided on a doe.  One shot one deer...we were all proud.  Dad stayed in the truck  and by the time we got back up the hill, Dad was laying in front of it.  He is getting weaker by the day and is getting less stable...so we quickly got him up and back in the truck.  My boys have a great memory but also truly saw how fragile life is.  I am not sure how people deal with this but I know each memory created has now become more urgent and valuable.

Another day...

The day I knew for sure

We had are suspicions but today the Dr informed us that my dad has single cell lung cancer.  Diagnosis...1 year to live.  Treatment options...limited.
So now what?  Well this is my way of dealing with the tough things that life throws at you.  I am going to use this as a way to reflect and prepare for the day that is coming that I must bury my dad.