Sunday, June 19, 2016
The Final Days of Bob Raudonis: A Memoir for Father’s Day 2016
By Daniel R. Raudonis
JANUARY, 2016:
I
got the call on Thursday while at work. I needed to get down to Tampa. My dad
was going to be going into hospice. The end was near. The next morning Barb and
I were on the road at o’dark o’clock on our way to Chicago to catch a flight.
After landing and getting our complimentary upgrade on our rental car, we drove
to the Mease Countryside Hospital in Safety Harbor, Florida. Eleven years
earlier on my first trip to Florida, my destination was also Safety Harbor, but
those were much happier times. I was attending The Association For Applied and
Therapeutic Humor’s Annual Conference and I was leading my first clowning field
trip in downtown Safety Harbor.
I heard my dad had two wishes. He didn’t want to die in the hospital and he wanted to go fishing. I was going to do everything in my power to make that happen. I put a post on Facebook about our intended fishing trip and also contacted my humor conference bud, Joye Swisher who lived in the area.She no longer works in hospice but she told me that our mutual friend, therapeutic humor pioneer Leslie (Gibson) Weiland does. I contacted Leslie and she said she would stop over later that day. We found the hospital and went up to the room. My mom and nephew Chad were up there. My dad’s face lit up when we walked in the room.
I heard my dad had two wishes. He didn’t want to die in the hospital and he wanted to go fishing. I was going to do everything in my power to make that happen. I put a post on Facebook about our intended fishing trip and also contacted my humor conference bud, Joye Swisher who lived in the area.She no longer works in hospice but she told me that our mutual friend, therapeutic humor pioneer Leslie (Gibson) Weiland does. I contacted Leslie and she said she would stop over later that day. We found the hospital and went up to the room. My mom and nephew Chad were up there. My dad’s face lit up when we walked in the room.
“Hi!” he said.
“Hi Dad, I hear you want to go fishing.”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Well, let’s go!” I suggested.
“Well, let’s go!” I suggested.
My dad had a long week. He was admitted to
the hospital over the weekend and had a bunch of tests for pneumonia and for
congestive heart failure. He was scheduled for an angiogram on Tuesday. On
Monday morning it was brought to our attention that his heart stopped for 10
seconds the night before, so they scheduled him for a pacemaker on Monday
afternoon. My dad argued with them about whether or not his heart stopped.
Sometime during the night he needed to get the nurse’s attention and the call
button was not within reach so he said that he unplugged the heart monitor
equipment, figuring they would come running, which they apparently did. More
than one health professional explained to my mother that even if he unplugged
the machine, it would show up differently than his alleged flat line. So Monday
he got the pacemaker and on Tuesday they went ahead with the angiogram. They
found a 90% blockage on one side so they put in a stent and they did a balloon
procedure on another vein or artery. There was talk of having to do more work
on his heart somewhere down the road. The tests from the weekend showed he had
fluid on his lungs so the surgical procedure of the day on Wednesday was
draining a liter of fluid off of the lung and he was scheduled to have the
other lung drained on Thursday. They drained a half-liter from the other side. A
week like that for even the strongest person would be challenging. My dad was
84 and had been struggling with these pneumonia/ bronchitis-like symptoms for a
long time.
It was after this fourth surgery on Thursday when I got the call from my mom informing me of the “H” word… Hospice. It turns out that my dad’s liver cancer, which was diagnosed a few years ago had spread to his adrenal system. We knew about the liver cancer but it never took priority over his diabetes-related circulatory problems. The doctors wanted to get those issues handled first. They did numerous procedures on his left leg trying to improve blood flow. He had his little toe amputated, then the next one, and then last spring he had his leg amputated below his knee.
When friends asked me how my dad was doing I replied, “Well, he’s good enough to travel and that’s a good sign.”
It was after this fourth surgery on Thursday when I got the call from my mom informing me of the “H” word… Hospice. It turns out that my dad’s liver cancer, which was diagnosed a few years ago had spread to his adrenal system. We knew about the liver cancer but it never took priority over his diabetes-related circulatory problems. The doctors wanted to get those issues handled first. They did numerous procedures on his left leg trying to improve blood flow. He had his little toe amputated, then the next one, and then last spring he had his leg amputated below his knee.
When friends asked me how my dad was doing I replied, “Well, he’s good enough to travel and that’s a good sign.”
Last winter due to my dad’s health, my
parents had to spend the entire winter in Illinois. Usually they travel like
rock stars. In mid-December they drive down to celebrate their granddaughter
Kylee’s birthday and the holidays with my sister Jaime’s family in the Houston
area. Around New Year’s they pack up the van and drive across the bottom of the
U.S. to the Tampa, Florida area where they do the snowbird thing for January
and February. They then travel around the state to visit friends and family and
usually make it back to Illinois in time for corned beef and cabbage on St.
Patrick’s Day.
We were hoping the warm weather would do
wonders for Dad and he really wanted to go, so they made the trek with Mom
doing the majority of the driving. They had their challenges in Texas but they
stayed on course and arrived in Florida by mid-January. After a weeklong stay
at The Candlelight Suites, they scored a rental trailer through mid-March at
their desired trailer park with a big lake where my dad was planning on
spending as much time as he could on the fishing pier. On the day they were to
move in, Dad went to the emergency room and spent the week in the hospital.
When we arrived on Friday Dad kept
repeating the same phrases over and over again. First was a nonsensical
instruction for Barb to go on Mom sister’s Lu’s dock to get a turtle and give
it to Lu’s husband Chez. Next was the phrase, “The last thing I heard was
Dallas.” So over and over again we told him how Chad flew in from Dallas and
Jaime and Kylee had a stopover in Dallas on their flight to Houston. He would
give us a look of understanding and then reply, “but the last thing I heard was
Dallas.”
Jaime and Kylee arrived and we were all together for the first time in 13 months. In between these moments of repetitiveness were very touching moments of coherency. We told stories and we got to tell him that we loved him. He also got to tell us he loved us and he made loving eye contact with each of us. There were several times when I thought this is it. He would ask us who is standing behind his bed. His eyes would be watching invisible (to us) objects near the ceiling. He seemed panicked at times. He reported that the room was spinning and everything was moving so fast. It was hard to know if he was making his transition or if he was on a morphine high.
Jaime and Kylee arrived and we were all together for the first time in 13 months. In between these moments of repetitiveness were very touching moments of coherency. We told stories and we got to tell him that we loved him. He also got to tell us he loved us and he made loving eye contact with each of us. There were several times when I thought this is it. He would ask us who is standing behind his bed. His eyes would be watching invisible (to us) objects near the ceiling. He seemed panicked at times. He reported that the room was spinning and everything was moving so fast. It was hard to know if he was making his transition or if he was on a morphine high.
My therapeutic humor friend Leslie Weiland
stopped in and spent a good portion of the afternoon with us. Leslie was like a
breath of fresh air to me. She works for Suncoast Hospice which was the same
hospice group that would be taking care of my dad so she was a fountain of
information, but more importantly she was on the same wavelength about honoring
my dad’s final wishes. There’s a scene in the Robin Williams Patch Adams movie
where Patch asks an elderly woman in the hospital, if she could do anything she
wanted to do before she died, what would it be? Well, he granted her wish by
letting her bathe in a pool of cooked noodles. Anything is possible. It just
takes the right attitude and the right people to make it happen. My dad’s
wishes seemed simple compared to the pool of noodles wish or something like
jumping out of an airplane or climbing a mountain.
Leslie said it would be difficult to get
my dad to his rental trailer or out to his favorite fishing pier but they did
have a hospice care facility with a small pond and a path that connected the
pond to the facility. It didn’t matter that there weren’t any fish in the pond.
I thought if he could feel the sun and breeze on his face and hold his fishing
pole, his life really would be complete. Leslie told us that it was rare for a
bed to be available at that facility and we would be very fortunate to get in
there but it was looking like it was going to work out as long as Dad could
hang in there long enough. There were several hours of paperwork and logistics
and it was getting to be late afternoon so we figured it would be Saturday
before we could get him out of the hospital.
I told Dad that we could do anything he wanted to on Saturday. I said we could go fishing or go to the bar. His excitement was like that of a little kid. When he got the assurance from Jaime and Mom that I was telling the truth, he said, “Boy, what a way to go!” and he made a fishing casting movement with his right hand. Backed by Leslie’s information, I felt I was giving my dad hope and it wasn’t a false sense of hope, we were going to do whatever we could to make his final wishes come true. He kept repeating, “we’ll go to the bar and get brandy!” Mom mimicked him like a fast-playing broken record, “brandy, brandy, brandy!” He also thought we could all go play miniature golf. That was something we always did together on our summer vacations.
I told Dad that we could do anything he wanted to on Saturday. I said we could go fishing or go to the bar. His excitement was like that of a little kid. When he got the assurance from Jaime and Mom that I was telling the truth, he said, “Boy, what a way to go!” and he made a fishing casting movement with his right hand. Backed by Leslie’s information, I felt I was giving my dad hope and it wasn’t a false sense of hope, we were going to do whatever we could to make his final wishes come true. He kept repeating, “we’ll go to the bar and get brandy!” Mom mimicked him like a fast-playing broken record, “brandy, brandy, brandy!” He also thought we could all go play miniature golf. That was something we always did together on our summer vacations.
That night his friends Clay and Donna
Chester came by for a visit. Clay is the son of Dad’s ol’ Navy buddy and they
always made sure my parents were well taken care of during their stays in
Florida. They went fishing together and watched the Super Bowl together. Dad
always had wagers with his grandson Chad on all the big sporting events. We
were still one week away from Super Bowl 50 but Chad and Dad even had their
wager on that.
Barb and I had the chance to be alone with
Dad for a little while on Friday night. I was telling the story about how Dad
helped me win a fishing competition when I was 12 years old. If dad hooked a
fish, he handed the pole over to me so I could reel it in and technically be
eligible for “catching” the fish. When he heard the story he looked me in the
eye and pointed his finger at me and said, “You tell your stories your way,
I’ll tell them my way. My story is different than that.” Even in his last days,
he was giving me lessons on the proper way to tell fish stories!
That night Barb and I went to stay with my cousin, Anne Marie. Jaime, Chad and Kylee were going to stay with Mom at the trailer. It was great to get out of the hospital and spend some time with my kindred spirit cousin. Even though we were exhausted we spent a few hours talking before we went to bed. Shortly after my head hit the pillow we got a call from Mom telling us they were all back at the hospital and it wasn’t looking good, but then again, not much had changed from earlier in the day. Seeing that we only got a few hours of sleep the night before and it was looking like it could be a long day on Saturday, we decided to sleep for a bit and they would call us if he got worse. That call came at about 5:30am and we were on our way back to the hospital. He must have bounced back because when we got to the room, Dad was propped up and once again he perked up when he saw us. He greeted us with a big “Hi!”
That night Barb and I went to stay with my cousin, Anne Marie. Jaime, Chad and Kylee were going to stay with Mom at the trailer. It was great to get out of the hospital and spend some time with my kindred spirit cousin. Even though we were exhausted we spent a few hours talking before we went to bed. Shortly after my head hit the pillow we got a call from Mom telling us they were all back at the hospital and it wasn’t looking good, but then again, not much had changed from earlier in the day. Seeing that we only got a few hours of sleep the night before and it was looking like it could be a long day on Saturday, we decided to sleep for a bit and they would call us if he got worse. That call came at about 5:30am and we were on our way back to the hospital. He must have bounced back because when we got to the room, Dad was propped up and once again he perked up when he saw us. He greeted us with a big “Hi!”
Again on Saturday there were several
moments when we thought this was it.
We wondered if he had his chance to make his transition because he reported that he “chickened out one time” and it was almost as if he was counting and keeping track of his near death experiences.
His breathing was labored. He would take several quick breaths and then he would take what appeared to be his last breath. All was still and then after what seemed like an eternity he would take a big gasp and it would start all over again. This was tense on all of us. It started to feel like a Mel Brooks movie: all of us gathered around the main character’s bedside, there with him for his last words, his last breath… and just when we thought it was over, he took another life-sustaining breath. At one point Mom hung her head in exhaustion and frustration and just laughed. We all have a pretty good sense of humor and I could picture my mom strangling my dad at that point in sheer frustration, the rest of us pulling her off him and restraining her. Even in his unconscious state he was going to give his exit a healthy dose of drama! The doctor explained this type of breathing is called Cheyne-Stokes but as emotionally draining it was on all of us, I think we were all ready to start chain smoking.
We wondered if he had his chance to make his transition because he reported that he “chickened out one time” and it was almost as if he was counting and keeping track of his near death experiences.
His breathing was labored. He would take several quick breaths and then he would take what appeared to be his last breath. All was still and then after what seemed like an eternity he would take a big gasp and it would start all over again. This was tense on all of us. It started to feel like a Mel Brooks movie: all of us gathered around the main character’s bedside, there with him for his last words, his last breath… and just when we thought it was over, he took another life-sustaining breath. At one point Mom hung her head in exhaustion and frustration and just laughed. We all have a pretty good sense of humor and I could picture my mom strangling my dad at that point in sheer frustration, the rest of us pulling her off him and restraining her. Even in his unconscious state he was going to give his exit a healthy dose of drama! The doctor explained this type of breathing is called Cheyne-Stokes but as emotionally draining it was on all of us, I think we were all ready to start chain smoking.
The time in the hospital was so surreal.
There were times I thought we were going to lose him any minute now and there
were also moments of good conversation and reminiscing. Dad told us the
hilarious story of how he was winning an ice skating race at The Davis Grade School
outdoor ice rink but when he looked back to see how big his lead was, he wiped
out and instead of winning a trophy he ended up with this teeny little medal
and he was so mad! He also told us that he didn’t make his 50th. On
April 23rd Mom and Dad would have celebrated their Golden Wedding
Anniversary. I completely forgot that this was their big year. Mom asked him
how he would have wanted to celebrate. He replied that he would have wanted to
take us all on a cruise except Mom doesn’t like being on the water. I suggested
we have a party that night. After all, they did make it 50 years, they were
just shy by two and a half months.
Dad got visits from Aunt Lu and Chad and
Kylee’s other grandparents, Al and Judy Fane who were literally passing through
town. He was very gracious to all his guests and all the nurses and aides who
came in the room. Dad could be rude, cranky and stubborn, especially when he
was in pain, tired or uncomfortable, but in his final days he was the nicest
guy on earth. Also while reminiscing it was brought to Dad’s attention that
although he certainly tried for years and years, he never won the lottery. He responded,
“I won the lottery with all of you.” Wow, talk about the ultimate compliment. It’s
not that at any time in my life did I think he put more importance on winning
the lottery than on us, but here on his deathbed, it felt to him that having us
in his life was an even greater prize.
He also experienced moments of sheer
elation and euphoria. Health professionals could say this is a common symptom
when one’s body is shutting down but I choose to believe that my dad was
reporting on his appreciation for his life and the way it was ending. We were
all there, we were all getting along and love was definitely present. He kept
reciting three words: Wonderful, Beautiful, Unbelievable. He dealt with some
other emotions too. He got on a kick of repeating, “Everything you did failed.
All the work you did and nothing worked.” Then he kept apologizing. I
interpreted this as his message to the health care providers that took care of
him all week. They performed four procedures to try to keep him alive and it
wasn’t going to prolong his life much longer. And my dad was the one taking
responsibility for it! His doctor came in the room to say goodbye and my dad
shook the doctor’s hand and said, “Well, this is it. This is the final show.” I
think my dad was at a stage of complete acceptance and realization but I’m not
sure the doctor saw that. He was still trying to explain to my dad how sick he
was.
The hours kept ticking away and by the
time the ambulance drivers got up to the room to transport him to the hospice
care facility, it was two or three in the afternoon. Chad rode in the ambulance
with him and the rest of us got everything packed up and cleared out of the
hospital room. Walking out of there felt like such a great victory. My dad’s
first wish of not dying in the hospital was coming true!
The Suncoast Hospice Care facility definitely felt better than the hospital. The walls were painted deep, beautiful colors and Dad’s room felt more like a hotel room than a hospital room. There were also nice common areas. I thought the best features were outside. Trees, including a humongous one next to the building gave the grounds a serene feeling. A wooden walkway led to the pond and wrapped around the whole backside of the building through thick wilderness. Birds and other waterfowl relaxed by the pond. I really wanted to get my dad out fishing but the move from the hospital was stressful and exhausting for him and the late January sun was quickly losing its heat. I made the nurses aware of my dad’s fishing wish but something got lost in translation. I wanted my dad to experience the fishing trip in a moment of coherency. I wanted him to feel the sun and the breeze. I wanted him to be able to hold the pole and feel the line between his finger and thumb. I just wanted him to sit out there and enjoy life however long he wanted. I don’t think my dad would have even cared if he didn’t catch a fish. It was about being in control of his life again after being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses for so long. The hospice nurses were treating it like it was a wish for the family. Their idea was to drug up my dad so much that he would be able to be transported out to the pond pain-free. He probably wouldn't even be conscious or coherent. Transporting him out there was also going to be a challenge. The hospice bed was too wide and bulky. They didn’t have a gurney and with my dad’s bed stores, he wouldn’t be comfortable in a wheelchair. Someone came up with the idea of moving him in one of those contraptions that can lower handicapped people into a swimming pool but that too sounded like a rough ride. We made the staff realize that we were ok if he didn’t make it out there and we would rather wait and see what Sunday would bring.
The Suncoast Hospice Care facility definitely felt better than the hospital. The walls were painted deep, beautiful colors and Dad’s room felt more like a hotel room than a hospital room. There were also nice common areas. I thought the best features were outside. Trees, including a humongous one next to the building gave the grounds a serene feeling. A wooden walkway led to the pond and wrapped around the whole backside of the building through thick wilderness. Birds and other waterfowl relaxed by the pond. I really wanted to get my dad out fishing but the move from the hospital was stressful and exhausting for him and the late January sun was quickly losing its heat. I made the nurses aware of my dad’s fishing wish but something got lost in translation. I wanted my dad to experience the fishing trip in a moment of coherency. I wanted him to feel the sun and the breeze. I wanted him to be able to hold the pole and feel the line between his finger and thumb. I just wanted him to sit out there and enjoy life however long he wanted. I don’t think my dad would have even cared if he didn’t catch a fish. It was about being in control of his life again after being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses for so long. The hospice nurses were treating it like it was a wish for the family. Their idea was to drug up my dad so much that he would be able to be transported out to the pond pain-free. He probably wouldn't even be conscious or coherent. Transporting him out there was also going to be a challenge. The hospice bed was too wide and bulky. They didn’t have a gurney and with my dad’s bed stores, he wouldn’t be comfortable in a wheelchair. Someone came up with the idea of moving him in one of those contraptions that can lower handicapped people into a swimming pool but that too sounded like a rough ride. We made the staff realize that we were ok if he didn’t make it out there and we would rather wait and see what Sunday would bring.
Dad told us he didn’t feel up for a party
on Saturday night and for the first time ever, he slept pretty much through the
night. In our family, we had a Saturday night tradition: Steak Night. Dad loved
his steaks, especially the way he cooked them. We thought he would want us all
to keep up the tradition so we ordered out from Outback Steak House for our
Saturday night steak dinner. On our way to pick up the steaks, we stopped at
Walgreens and picked up some anniversary cards. When dad was unable to get out
of the house, he would ask us to pick up a card for mom for whatever holiday we
were celebrating. He always wanted to give her a sexy card. We picked up three
cards, one that Dad would get for Mom, one that Mom would get for Dad and one
from all the kids and grandkids.
That night Barb and I went back to Anne
Marie’s and Mom went back to her trailer. Jaime and the kids all stayed at the
hospice center. Jaime gave me a call and said she had a conversation with the
nurse who told her a lot of times patients don’t wake up once they get relaxed
and settled into hospice. When they were getting my dad checked in, they gave
him some drugs to make him comfortable and pain-free but at this point it felt to
me like they took our puppy away from us and put him to sleep without telling
us what was going on. If that was the last time we were going to see him
conscious, I would have liked to have been there by his side. Yes, we were very
fortunate getting multiple opportunities to say goodbye to him but the thought
that he wasn’t going to wake up at hospice weighed on me.
Again we got a call early in the morning
telling us we better get to the hospice facility. Fortunately Dad did wake up
from his long slumber. Anytime he did, I made sure to wake up Chad and Kylee to
give them time to spend with their Poppa. Aunt Lu and Anne Marie came by for a
visit and since Dad was semi-conscious we thought we better take advantage of
this moment and have the anniversary party. Mom brought some blackberry brandy
from Dad’s stash and someone grabbed a bunch of disposable cups from the common
area kitchen. Jaime looked up Lithuanian
toasts on the internet and we all toasted to Bob and Jean’s 50th
anniversary. Since Dad wasn’t taking in foods or fluids, Mom took one of those
sponge on a stick things and saturated the sponge with brandy. When she put it
to his lips Dad slurped it down like a newborn calf going for her mom’s udder.
Now dad was becomingly increasingly harder to understand. His voice was horse,
breathy and gravely, but right after he got a taste of that brandy, Jaime asked
him, “Did you like that?” And as clear as could be, Dad’s response was a very
satisfying “Yeah!” That got a big laugh from all of us. We put Dad’s fishing
pole in his hand and he grabbed a hold of his familiar friend. We then read the
cards to Mom and Dad. There was a lot of love present in that anniversary
party. And when love like that is present and a family bond so strong, you
can’t help but feeling good, even through all of the uncomfortable emotions
that come up.
Later that afternoon, I watched the USA
soccer game with my dad. Since I never was a big fisherman, football fan or wrestler,
soccer was our bond. We watched several USA soccer games together, both on TV
and in person. Dad pretty much slept through the whole game but he did wake up
a few times and I updated him on the score but I’m not sure it registered with
him. The rest of Sunday and Monday was a blur. I think he slept almost the
whole time. When he did wake up, we were there to tell him we loved him and we
all gave him our blessing that it was ok for him to move on. We were going to
be alright and we would take care of each other.
I do remember having one more interaction with my dad on Monday. My friend Chip called and since Dad was awake I thought I’d see if he wanted to talk. I put Chip on speaker phone and held the phone close to Dad.
Chip: “Hey Bob!”
Dad: “Hi Chip. Hi Chip.
Chip: “How many laps are you going to run today, Bob?”
I do remember having one more interaction with my dad on Monday. My friend Chip called and since Dad was awake I thought I’d see if he wanted to talk. I put Chip on speaker phone and held the phone close to Dad.
Chip: “Hey Bob!”
Dad: “Hi Chip. Hi Chip.
Chip: “How many laps are you going to run today, Bob?”
Dad: “Take a lap, Chip!”
Dad’s voice was really breathy so I had to relay what he said to Chip, but it was classic. Dad was infamous for his, “TAKE A LAP!” orders on the soccer field and even though Chip was never coached by my dad there’s a certain universal bond between soccer players and coaches. Chip wrote a blog when my dad passed away and you can read it HERE
( http://yourdalyhug.blogspot.com/2016/02/coach-bob.html )
Jaime and Kylee said their goodbyes to him on Monday morning and Chad said goodbye to him on Monday afternoon. They were all flying back to Texas. Barb and I were scheduled to fly out early Tuesday morning. We took Mom out for an Italian dinner on Monday night which gave all of us a chance to get out of the hospice center and giving Dad a chance to be alone too. We stayed with Mom at her trailer that night.
On Tuesday we were out the door by 4am. We wanted to stop in and say goodbye to Dad before heading out to the airport. The nurse said he slept through the night. I made it clear that if he passed away before the plane doors closed, I would stay behind to drive Mom back to Illinois. It was hard to believe that it was February 2nd already. My joke all weekend was “I don’t think he’ll be around on Groundhog’s Day, but if he did hang in there that long my dad would probably be like the groundhog, see his shadow and stick around for another six weeks like Old Man Winter.
We flew into O’Hare and once we got
downtown I talked to Mom. The doctor was thinking that today would be the day.
About 15 minutes after I hung up with her, she called back to let me know he
passed away.
Barb and I drove back to Michigan and I
repacked and grabbed some things. The next morning Barb was driving me back to
O’Hare. I flew down to Tampa to help Mom move out of the trailer. We got the
van packed up and began our two day journey back to Illinois. Before we left I
asked Mom if we could stop at the fishing pier one last time. We walked out to
where Dad used to fish and she showed me where he used to sit and all about his
little fishing routines. Three days earlier Barb and I visited this pier for
the first time. It didn’t look like we were going to be able to get Dad out to
the little pond but I thought, “Well, at least we can get out there for him and
do a ceremonial cast in his honor. We took some pictures of his walker and
fishing pole out at the pier and displayed the photo at his wake.
As I was going through photos I wanted to find the last time we took a picture together before he was in the hospital and it was from our early Christmas celebration that we always had in mid-December before they drove down to Texas. I made my dad a poster highlighting his accomplishments as Ottawa High School’s first soccer coach. I modeled it after two posters that my Uncle Joe drew for him in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. One was for his high school wrestling coaching career and one for winning a citywide bowling tournament. He was pretty excited to see it and I’m certainly grateful that I didn’t wait another day before finishing it.
I also came across the pictures we took at the pier. The only one we printed up was the one of Dad’s rolling walker at the pier but I found this one that Barb took. I thought this one was a great one to share for Father’s Day.
As I was going through photos I wanted to find the last time we took a picture together before he was in the hospital and it was from our early Christmas celebration that we always had in mid-December before they drove down to Texas. I made my dad a poster highlighting his accomplishments as Ottawa High School’s first soccer coach. I modeled it after two posters that my Uncle Joe drew for him in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. One was for his high school wrestling coaching career and one for winning a citywide bowling tournament. He was pretty excited to see it and I’m certainly grateful that I didn’t wait another day before finishing it.
I also came across the pictures we took at the pier. The only one we printed up was the one of Dad’s rolling walker at the pier but I found this one that Barb took. I thought this one was a great one to share for Father’s Day.
I was fortunate having so many great fishing adventures with my dad and it brought me comfort thinking, if we really do get to connect with our departed loved ones after we pass on, Dad is certainly enjoying the fishing now much more than he could by casting into a Florida pond. His fishing trip with his parents and uncles and old friends is a well-deserved vacation from all the physical pain and suffering he had to endure in his human existence. I bet he even occasionally yells out, “Jesus! Would you quit walking across the lake? You’re scaring all the fish!”
Thanks for reading. I heard several comments and compliments about my short little snippets that I posted on Facebook about my dad’s passing and I thought, “Just wait until you hear the whole story!” My dad really had a beautiful death and in our culture we tend to shy away from that part of the story and focus on the celebration of life. Well in this case, I want to also celebrate my dad’s death. This was just my story. There were several of us who were there and we each have our own unique perspective and memory of our final interactions with a man we love and miss. I am grateful for my time with my dad, my coach, my friend.
-Daniel R. Raudonis, Father's Day 2016
