The acceptance of death gives you more of a stake in life,
in living life happily, as it should be lived.
Living for the moment.”
There is a place beyond sadness where acceptance lives. That’s where we are now.
Almost two years to the day after Gmamma received her diagnosis, DooDaddy has his. Same cancer. Same place. Same kind. It’s like she’s calling him home. And he’s ready. Says he couldn’t have left her behind, but since she’s gone, he can go too, knowing he took care of her till the end. Knowing his children are grown. Grandchildren, as well. And he’s lived to see his first great-grandchild come into the world.
My mother didn’t linger long. A week, in fact. My father has six months, give or take.
His cancer is stage IV squamous cell carcinoma ― well-defined ― whatever the hell that means. It’s in his lymph nodes and at the base of his tongue. And there are spots on his lungs. Surgery would be gruesome. Macabre even. How could DooDaddy live without his silver tongue? His gift of gab? His mellifluous voice? He couldn’t, of course.
Chemo, radiation? But to what end? He’ll be 88 years old on Saturday. Says he’s had a good run. Now it’s about a graceful exit and death with dignity.
No one wants to have end-of-life conversations. It’s more taboo than gun control and abortion. There are those who choose to fight the good fight and hang on to life with their fingernails. And God bless ’em. But my father is not of that ilk. Nor was my mother. And I wonder if, as our population ages, the right to die will become an inalienable human right. Physician-assisted suicide is legal in Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and Switzerland. Here in the United States, Montana, Oregon, Vermont and Washington allow it.
These past weeks, there’s been a stone on my heart as I struggled with the inevitability of my father’s condition. And yet, his resolute courage and unfailing good humor have lifted my spirits. DooDaddy remains upbeat. He says he’s relieved even, that the choice is clear. He will forgo treatment of any kind and enjoy the time he has left.
I remember when I was a little girl, trying on different friendships and grappling with the concept. I asked my mother who her best friend was. “Your father, of course,” she replied, not missing a beat. At the time, I felt sorry for her, that her husband had to do double duty as her BFF. Now I realize what a rare and beautiful thing that is. And I ache with longing for the kind of companionable intimacy and absolute devotion my parents shared.
So, we have six months to celebrate life with DooDaddy. Six months to do a bucket list of things. On a walker. And then he’s off to meet Gmamma and continue the journey they began half a century ago. Because life ends; so does pain and suffering, but love is everlasting. And my parents’ legacy remains. My father, in particular, taught me how to live and savor every moment. Now he’s showing me how to die. With grace, compassion and acceptance.
Oh geez, Laura…I feel your sorrow. We’re in the same place with our Dah. Indeed, our society does not die well…thinking about you often.
And now Dah is gone. God rest his soul. You are right about our society not dying well. Why do you suppose that is? Why have we vilified death as something to be avoided rather than the natural completion of life? Or a wonderful transition to the afterlife? Food for thought.
As someone who has come close to the abyss with Mike, I understand your grief. How sweet he shores you up in this journey! Can not wait to read your book!
I’m so happy for you that it was not Mike’s time. And now you’re celebrating another year together. Dad’s in a different place. My prayer for him is not to live longer but to live well with the time he has left. Eager to share Geezer Stories with you. Hope you like it.
Namaste, friend.
Oh, Lala. My initial gut reaction was “sonofabitch”. But after reading to the end, I’m not so sure. I’m still crying, but maybe not so much out of sadness but out of joy for such a beautiful life well lived. What a beautiful tribute you are to Gmamma and Doo Daddy. Sending you much love.
Page, yes, exactly. You said it just right. Love you. XXOOO
Send him my love and tell him he’s a role model for all of us in every way. Hugs and peace to all of you.
XXOOO
Laura, I’m so very sorry to read this difficult news. Your father has become such a beloved character to all of us who read your writing. He will live on in all of you who love him but also in the beautiful words you’ve written about him and your mother and their relationship.
XXOOO
My prayers are with you Laura! Your father is a great man! He has lived! He has loved! He has inspired! He will be remembered!
Thanks, Jim! And thanks for taking time to go see him at The Home. XXOOO
Wow! Sorry to hear about this! Your words are a beautiful tribute to your parents. Thank you very much for sharing this post. We love you and your family.
Paul, we feel the same way about y’all. Miss your sweet angel momma. Go see Dad if you have a chance. He holds you in very high regard.
Wow, Laura…what a beautiful tribute to your parents. I am so sorry to hear this. I have know Randy since his Watson’s days, as you may remember. I have every confidence he will be fine – but it will be tough for you all. Love to all. Katie
Katie, my father is fine and at peace with his prognosis. He will be in Heaven soon with my mother, and he has lived a wonderful life. Watson’s was a whole chapter unto itself, a microcosm of community, and Dad is the same now as he was then. He may be older and frailer but his love of people and his curiousity and passion for life have not diminshed over the years. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement.
Thank you for all that you write and share. I will be praying for God’s richest blessings for your family in the months ahead.
Thank you, sweet friend! XXOOO
Thank you for sharing this sad news in such beautiful Laura fashion. Your father is a hero to many but most especially to his beloved family. That is the true measure of the man! What a wonderful legacy he and your Mom began. Sending love to all the Mansfield gems.
Thanks, Jerry – you and your family are intertwined with mine – we share generations of memories. Your recent kindnesses to my father are so thoughtful and dear. I remember going to your dad’s receiving at Mann’s and balling my eyes out, because it was too close to home. He was one of the first of that special group of friends, my parents’ friends, to die. It hit me especially hard, because it was so close to home. It meant my own father wasn’t invincible. Now I am at peace with that knowledge and live with it daily. But it took me awhile to get here. Sending love right back to you and yours. XXOOO
Your dad’s outlook is amazing and one I would expect from him! A great attitude and, knowing the inevitable is near, he takes such a positive way to look at it. Help him get those bucket list items done, even on a walker!
Tommy, I’ll never forget your amazing tribute to your father at his funeral. I know you know just how I feel. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement and for being part of this journey with me. We will savor every moment. Living the dream. On a walker. #geezerlove XXOOO
You and father are truely an inspiration.
I am so saddened ..
There’s joy in the sadness. Like pearls in an oyster shell. Made from the salt of our tears. Sorry, that sounds super corny, but it’s true. XXOOO
Laura,
Thank you for your beautiful words, sadness tinged with joy. Although I didn’t know your Mom and Dad well when I was in high school with you, I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them through your Geezer stories. As you say, now is the time to enjoy life and enjoy small moments. Thank you for being honest and loving in this experience that we will all be going through soon.
Love,
Tracy
Tracy, you and I are walking together now just as we ran together in high school, but the path is very different, and there’s no cheering crowd at the end. You know what, I take that back, because maybe there is. And our mothers will be there, restored to their former health and beauty, waiting with open arms for our fathers. Love, indeed, Laura
Oh, Laura, Damn! We want your father, and in good condition, for longer……We are the ones who are not ready! He is like a brother to Bob and one best friends and mentors to me!
Your tribut is beyond beautiful, bustill we have tears over here to be shed before we can remove he sones on our own hearts. Then we shall be able to thank God for this gracious gentleman who is so very dear to both of us. We send you, your siblings, and Mac big, deep, and long hugs!
Love to you all,
Diana and Bob
Diana Dear, words can’t begin to express what you and Bobby mean to my father. You know. He knows. No words needed. Please come visit him, while he still feels good. Old friends are the best medicine. BIG LOVE to both of you. XXOOO
Life is made of memories and I have many wonderful ones of my times with Randy at Watsons. We called him last summer from our Watson’s reunion ( thr first gathering in 35 years )and he had many conversations with those who loved him at Watsons. I heard him laugh with each conversation and story of store openings .. fun and frantic. Cherish your memories and days with your father.You are in my thougths and prayers. I shall visit soon.
Joyce Zirkle Tapscott
Joyce, Dad relished his time at Watson’s and has a forever place in his heart for all the special people who worked there. It was a golden era. Do come see him. He loves you so.
That’s really beautiful. God bless you both!
God bless you too, Mary. Love you. XXOOO
So Randy will die the same way he lived, with grace and dignity. Ever the true Southern gentlemen. What a joy he is to all of us, and how sad that we are about to lose that grace. They don’t make ’em like that any more, as you well know. How lucky for you to have that father. How lucky for us to have that friend. Love and virtual hugs to you, my friend. Savor the minutes. (Although I doubt there are many minutes you have not savored.)
Well said, Annette. Grace and dignity. XXOOO
Laura, your words stir my own memories of my dad. He died at age 55, much too young. I was caught unaware. Truth is, I would never have been really willing to let him go. No matter when the day comes, on some level it is always too soon to lose a parent. I can tell you that since his death, my dad resides close to me. Sometimes I awaken with the thrilling experience of having him alive in my dreams. One time after coming through a difficult personal struggle, I happened to glance at the sky and could have sworn that my dad winked at me. Your precious time with you dad will never really be over.
Debby, what a lovely thought and a wonderful tribute to your father and mine. We are savoring the sweet in between and staying in the moment. As another favorite geezer of mine was fond of saying, “Every day’s a gift.”
What a lovely tribute to your Dad. I have many fond memories from our days at Watson’s and while we missed him at our reunion last summer, we did get to hear his voice and hear that familiar laugh. May God comfort you all as you savor these last days together.
Thank you. He is a special guy, and he loves his Watson’s family. I will bring him downtown for the book signing on Mother’s Day at Union Avenue Books. Come see him and say hello. And goodbye. XXOOO
Laura, I can hardly see the screen right now so please overlook the typos. I’m so sorry to learn of your father’s diagnosis of cancer. You are very brave but I know this is really tough and I hope you take care of yourself while you care for your father. He is blessed to have you as his daughter as you were blessed with two great people as your parents. Sending you and your family positive thoughts and many prayers for comfort and peace.
Amy, thank you for your kind words, positive energy and prayers – much appreciated. I hope you get to meet my father. He is truly a remarkable man and a blessing in my life and the lives of everyone who knows him.
My heart aches for you and my shoulder is always available. Thinking of you dear friend.
XXOOO
Your stories are beautiful, even when they must be difficult to share. You’ve been through so much, and my heart hurts for you, yet still celebrates as you assist DooDaddy on this journey and celebrate a life well-lived.
Kim, DooDaddy continues to amaze and inspire – I can’t wait for you to meet him!