Sept 9, 09 – My
father, our “Pops”
What a privilege - to have been with him
– at this “sacred time,” as one of his visiting pastors referred to these last
few weeks. Harold, or Pops as we
called him, gave us many gifts over the years, but this was his ultimate gift –
being present with him as he prepared for his biggest adventure – a journey –
THE transition…or his ‘graduation’ as my husband’s father, Park called it. As Pops struggled with each breath, it
was the ultimate reminder of how precious every….breath…is. He was demonstrating, with
each breath, how to
BE in the moment. Yes,
truly a sacred time!
These
last few weeks, although he tired easily, getting short of breath, he
enjoyed small things – telling a joke with only a word or two & a smile, tastes
of mandarin oranges, peanut butter toast…or crab, lobster, & shrimp. One of his favorite tastes, or so he
said, was huckleberry pie. When Chuck
& Kirsten brought him one from Mt. Hood – he just beamed! Another one of his great pleasures was
listening to ‘larger-than-life’ music, so he’d requested our friend, John (from
Wisconsin) to sing, “You Raise Me Up” and “Amazing Grace,” in his service.
Some
of my favorite memories are things that he liked also – open spaces, brilliant
sunshine on freezing-cold days, tuna casserole, bologna sandwiches, cherry pie,
singing, church choir & organ music.
Of course, traditional Norwegian lutefisk & lefse dinner at holiday
gatherings. I also remember
fishing with him…how he looped the worms around my hook…how we hung ‘pop’
bottles over the side of the boat to keep them cold; eating crispy fried
chicken…and hoping to later experience a good-old, thunder-lightning storm!
My
Dad, our Scandinavian patriarch…from immigrant heritage -- a Swedish mother
& Norwegian father, enjoyed the adventure
of travel. He left home at 17 to
join the Merchant Marines, worked hard, loved family, and demonstrated all of
this by being whole-heartedly supportive!
Up until the last few days he continued to observe, listen & thoughtfully
interact - asking perceptive questions.
He was concerned that his family felt safe & that we had the
security to do the things we needed or wanted to do. As a grandparent, he was integral to our daughter’s
lives…with unconditional love, attention & watchfulness.
Pops
is a guy whose toolbox not only included a wrench & a hammer, but a love of
story telling and a great sense of humor.
In these last few weeks - he’d been given a bell so he could call for
help. One morning, while making
his bed, he motioned to me (turning his hand back & forth) asking for his
bell. I said, “Sorry, I hid
it!” When I finally gave it back
to him, he grinned & hid it under the covers!
My
father’s wrench, imbedded into a piece of round cement placed in our garden’s
path - that we made together - is a sweet reminder of all the gifts our family
has received from him!
However, the most important tools he gave our family will be far more
enduring than our garden stone! He
helped us to ‘BE’ in each & every moment! One day, in July, I was holding his arm as we walked out to
his deck and he whispered, “Thank you
for your friendship.” He was not ONLY my father…he was my FRIEND.
