I thought of some more stuff about my Dad just now. He always talked about his romance with Mom all those years ago. It was pretty much the same story every time, but I never got tired of hearing it. He never said anything negative about her entire illness, alzeimers, or death. He never complained about much of anything. He kept a positive attitude, even when things started going downhill. He said he never wanted to complain or make anyone feel bad. Bless his heart. A lot of older folks get grouchy, but he was always making anyone around him laugh. I sure wish I could discover some old love letters he and Mom wrote to each other. I am sure they would have been good reading. I know they did not get dirty in them, or anything like that. It would just be nice to read how things were going. A chance to visit the past, I guess. It is difficult to think about how things must have been back then. We watch some series on tv that really show how bad it got. Even worse than you could imagine, really. I am sure Mom wrote him a lot. Girls did then. My best friend when growing up found some letters her Dad sent home and got it made into a book. It is a big book and just tells about the people from that area and what went on. I think it is amazing reading and I am so glad Dad made sure to get it to me. Dad never felt that Mom getting the memory loss was a bad thing. She would talk about way back and he actually enjoyed that. It was the every day stuff that she didn't get. There were always lots of questions and they were pretty much the same ones every time. So, we answered them the best way we could and if she repeated, we just ignored it. It was a challenge, like talking to a baby or a small child who did not understand the answers anyway. I was the first to really notice how bad she was getting because I did not see her as often as the others. At least I think they saw her more. I guess I just assumed that. Maybe not. Those last days, every time I would come in, she would ask me Where am I? What am I doing here? What's wrong with me. We had conversations all the time, but it was more me talking at her than a two way communication. So sad, but then I would give anything to have had more time with her, no matter what was going on. The last thing she said to us as a group was "What are you all looking so glum about?" I will never forget that. That was just before her final surgery. Or the surgery they said they were going to do. I have my doubts that they performed it. She was too far gone then I believe. We will never know. Just like we will never know what really happened in Dad's last hour. I so hope that he was NOT alone waiting for them to come. I so hope that he hadn't already fallen and hurt himself when they walked in. I so hope that his heart just stopped before he fell and he did not know what happened. I keep going over that in my mind and cannot seem to stop thinking of it sometimes. Jim and Jean must be thinking what if's a lot too. What if we had not left him to go to lunch. What if we were sitting there or helping him get up, What if What if, What if. What if he fell in the bathroom when he went to pee. So hard to stop thinking about it. It does not make any difference anyway. I do hope they can change how they do things for those who are still alright in their minds. They treated him like a small child at first until they realized he was still a lot on the ball for 91. Both George and I were going to be there that Sunday when he died. George had finished moving the furniture and getting the new apartment all set up. He was tired and knew he would see Dad in the morning when we moved him over. I was going to go up on Saturday, but was so exhausted, I talked to him and we agreed that I would come up on Monday instead. That old saying about waiting too long is so true. Every day I thought he was going to die. Then he died when no one was there. Makes a person wonder if they do know. I so miss you Daddy. That will be it for now. I meant to go more into his service time, but I don't have all the details here at my reach anyway. Will have to get that and come back and add it in. Tah!
I remember one time going out to find my dad early in the morning. I think he must have gone to do chores and did not come in for a very long time. He said he was keeping an eye on the cows who were in labor. He did not have many cows at this time and he was very concerned that it was taking them way too long to get the calves "dropped" as he called it. Of course I knew he had said that. I knew he was busy, but I missed him and really wanted to see him and spend some time together. I suppose I had found that it worked to go and watch him do the chores. Jim got to help, I probably wanted to help too! George was still a little baby and even though I loved babies so much, George was taking a nap! I of course, thought I was too big to take a nap anymore, after all, I was in school now! So, I tried to stay out of his way and was playing on the swing or my new acrobat's bar that Dad had put up in the far tree just for me! My brothers seemed to get it in their heads that they could play on it too, at least when they could get away with it. Or they just might have liked hearing me yell and scream at them to "get away"! Of course I was always giving them what they wanted because I did not understand yet that they got pleasure from me rising a stink. Anyway, I got bored so then went looking for Daddy. I looked in the Milk Barn because that is where I thought he must be. Instead, as I came back from not finding him in the barn, I could hear noises and a cow bellering. It sounded like it was in trouble! Then I saw where the cow was. She was beside our garage in the fenced off area. It was like she was trying to get help! Then, I saw my dad. He was swearing a blue streak. There were words coming out of his mouth that my tender ears had never heard before. Ratsa grf, gobbled day, what in the world! Garrrruth, I don't know what I am gonna do, jesupolordy can't lose her. Gotta get it out, jesupolordy no! He went on swearing, so of course I wanted to get closer because I could not see what he was doing. That's when I saw it. The poor little calf hooves poking out of the Cow. I stood there mesmerized not wanting to move. Then I saw my very own Daddy pushing on the cow's belly. He pushed and pushed. He looked so scared, I became scared too, even though I didn't understand what was happening. I must have been about 8 or so. I stood there, quiet. By then, the hooves were a bit further out and I could see most of the 2 legs all red and shiny. I was standing there with my hands over my mouth in awe and wonder at what my Daddy was doing. For a while, daddy's voice was quiet as he worked trying to get the baby out. The mama cow was getting so tired by this time that dad was worrying that she might just give up and fall over. He also knew that time was important because the baby needed to get out so it could breathe! I don't remember how long this went on, but it seemed like time was standing still to me. I must have let out a gasp or something because Dad looked over his shoulder and saw me standing watching. He was exasperated by this time and yelled at me to "get to the house, and don't come back". I did. I was crying by this time because I knew something was so wrong. As I had been watching him, he kept saying that he needed this calf and something about losing money. All I could think about was what was wrong with my daddy. He never acted like this! So, when I got to the house, my momie was trying to explain to me why daddy was saying all those things and how about the money the calf would bring us would buy many items that we really needed, like food. Then, after what seemed like a year in a little girl's life, Daddy finally came inside. He went to wash his hands good in the sink. As he washed them, he told my momie what was going on, how the one cow had gotten her calf out and they were both okay. Then he looked over at me, playing with my dollies. He then kind of whispered to momie that the calf he had to pull, didn't make it, but he thought he had managed to save the cow. He was in tears. Now if you knew my Dad, you would know that even though he was a sensitive man, he never ever cried. I did my best not to cry, too, but I could not stop my tears from falling, mostly because I was upset because my own very daddy was crying like a little baby. Over a cow! It was not until much later on in my life that I really "got" it. That Calf was important to all of us. Of course my daddy loved all living things, so it nearly broke his heart that the Calf died. I think he might have blamed himself. Of course it was not his fault, he had done everything he could. The calf was stillborn and the cow would have probably died too if daddy had not "pulled" the calf out. I remember my momie's tender words when they talked afterwards. She patted my daddy on his shoulder as she spoke. She pointed out that the other cow and calf were doing well and that the calf-less cow would be able to have another one someday. Dad just shook his head and looked at the floor, still in shock at the loss. Of course he did come to realize it could have been much worse, and that he had done everything he could do. There had not been enough time for the Vet. to get there, either. "Let nature take it's course" had not worked this time, but most of the time, it did. Lesson learned. I could not have loved my daddy more than I did just then. He was "it" in my life right then. He was until the day he died. He will always be.
