The First Man in My Life

Raising Father

I knew the day would surely come
but I didn't think it would be this soon.
You're taking care of everyone else,
but not doing what's right for you.
Making promises you can't keep;
Making exchanges with others
for money not yours.
What am I to do?
You're still so headstrong and independent,
yet, follies are following where you go.
When do I take full command?
When do I allow you free choice?
You're still young, only 75, but
I am graying over the escapades and omissions of truth.
I love you, Dad!
I want you to be free!
But how do I know when you need my help?
How do I know?

 

It has been over 12 yrs since I penned this poem about my father.  In that 12 years, I have seen many changes take place in my life, but also in dad's life.

 

My father was born in 1927 to an impoverished family of 9 children.  There was a set of twins who died within the first couple of years of their lives.  My uncles worked with my "pappy" helping him with his trucking business.  Dad went to school but in 8th grade, he dropped out to help his dad run the business and help earn money for the family.  One of his brothers, Eddie, died when he was 18 or so in a terrible accident but it was found later that he had a brain tumor.

 

Dad loved working with his father, though his siblings were not as enthusiastic...but daddy loved driving trucks.  He helped his dad maintain the business but when it finally had to be sold, Dad continued driving trucks.  When I was a child, he was gone much of the time, driving people across the country and back when their jobs required location changes, or they were moving to return to their families.  Whatever their reasons, dad took the jobs and loved eating at truck stops, listening to other truckers on their CB's, and basically traveling the country.

 

My mother was not as enthused with the jobs he had since he was gone, and she was left at home caring for the 4 children they had together.  He worked hard because he had another daughter as well through his first marriage so there was alimony and child support to be paid as well as caring for his new family, which seemed to add children each time he returned home (not really but I'm sure it felt that way to mom, who suffered through many miscarriages during these times).

 

Mom "offered" dad and ultimatum about driving or being part of the family so we moved to Florida where he drove trucks only within the southern region of FL.  It did not pay well and with a growing (aging) family, dad too a job working in a "moving and hauling warehouse". He got to help load and unload trucks; make pallet boxes to store furniture which was to be stored and arranged the warehouse in an organized, easy to work in place.  He loved it.  Mom decided she should work with him, so they teamed up in the warehouse with her doing paperwork and him doing the manual labor.... until a day when he was on a forklift and fell 14 feet onto concrete.  He was purple head to toe, broke his tailbone and injured many places on his body.  He was forced into retirement and mom went with him.

 

Dad healed and the jobs they did as a team were looking after their grandchildren.  They did this until mom was diagnosed for the 3rd time with cancer.  She was spiraling downward quickly.  I came home (was living in Indiana) to care for her during her last days and from Dec. 15 until Jan 8, I was her nurse and daughter and dad's cook and cleaner.  I promised mom I would be sure dad was taken care of and that he had food and would not be by himself.  From the week after mom was buried, and all the friends and relatives returned to their homes, until now, 18 yrs later, I have made sure dad had groceries, he had someone with whom he could eat at least 1 or 2 meals a week.  I made sure he was ok and that if he needed things done in his mobile home, that my brothers were there to help him out.

 

When dad turned 75, he decided (without telling anyone about it) that he needed a brand new, huge, souped up Dodge Ram pick up truck, complete with a sidebars so he could climb in and a big metal toolbox on the back.  He loved the truck but I wondered how he had been able to get one on his social security fixed income.  I soon found out when he was almost arrested fo "elder abuse".  He said a friend of his (100 yrs old) told him to buy THAT particular truck with the running boards so he could cart the man all over town.  He said the man gave him the money to buy the truck.  BUT friends of the older man reported dad and an investigation was begun.  I was beside myself (and wrote the poem above).  My brothers came to my rescue and a cousin offered to "bail him out of jail" if necessary but for some unknown (God provided) reason, the case was dropped and the old man was put into a nursing home where he died very soon thereafter.

 

Since that time, dad has had to have a defibrillator installed (he had bypass surgery when he was very young) and then recently had to have the defibrillator repaired.  He is a veteran Marine so he goes to the VA hospital for all his appts.  He got his eyes checked there as well and over a 5 yr period the dr kept telling him his eyes were fine and his glasses did not need to be replaced....but dad could not see well.

 

I took him to a regular opthamologist who told him both eyes had cataracts and they had been there for some time.  He had surgery on both eyes but still could not see well.  He got new glasses which helped some, but not for long.  Now he has been diagnosed with macular degeneration which causes him to see only shadowy figures.  So, much to his chagrine, he gave up his drivers license this past July and sold his truck to my one brother.  How he misses driving that truck.  He takes a bus to my home for dinners on Sunday or we pick him up and drive him home.  He goes to the drs with the service of transportation provided to handicapped or elderly persons.  Tomorrow he and I go to see a retinal doctor to see if injections into his eyes might not help his sight.  I want to believe it will help but seriously, I doubt it.

 

It hurts my heart to see my father slowing down.  He still mows a lawn or two a day and crushes soda cans, counting them, and saving them until he has 5 big garbage bags full of crushed cans he can take to get spare money.  He is sluggish when he walks but has diabetic neuropathy in his feet and legs; he must have his knees injected periodically and follows up with his primary doctor and cardiologist.  What really bothers me is how his personality and general demeanor is changing.  He is short tempered (and I never saw my father angry before now); he is irritable about things which never used to bother him.  I seem to be upsetting him more and more.... 

I have to remember that in one summer, he has lost his independence; lost his ability to drive trucks; lost his ability to go to dr's alone; and lost his ability to do his own bookkeeping.  I am now Power of Attorney for him and write out all his checks.  All doctors talk to me so I know what is going on with him since he forgets so much.

He sees his body betraying him.

 

All of his children have offered him a place to live, but he is cleaning out his mobile home and says he will die in that place.  We are just to get a big dumpster and put everything into the garbage when he is gone.  Hearing him talk about not being with me anymore hurts and makes me grieve the fact that I know that sooner or later, I will have to "let go" and let him go to God and my mom.  Until that time, He is my dad, the first man I ever knew in my life and I love him with all my heart.