The Aerie
He wasn't perfect. Who is? But he was my father.
He died at 8:00 p.m. yesterday, the day after Christmas. All of us had
just been to see him at 5:00, and while his condition had deteriorated
since the prior day, the nurse did not believe we needed to keep vigil
quite yet. She was sweet and well intentioned and apparently quite
competent: I think that no one could grasp how rapidly this cancer was
destroying him. My aunt, a retired career oncology nurse who worked in
terminal care wards her entire life, had never seen a case progress so
rapidly. [dad.jpg]
So believing he had at least another day, we left.
He was alone when he died, which I will always regret.
But he was, also, long gone by then. His death was the mere shutting
down of an abandoned machine. Even his suffering was over by that
time.
He taught me card games when I was a child. Big Casino, Little Casino,
Rummy.
When I was eleven some boys beat me up and I hid all day in a phone
booth in the school. When the gym teacher found me he yelled at me,
and my parents were called to take me home. My father always worked
from home when he could, so he was available. He came, and walked me
home, and didn't say anything about the trouble that I'd had. And that
was good, that was what I needed.
When I was fourteen some friends proposed going camping overnight down
by the river. My mother told me to ask my father, certain that he
would say no. He said yes.
There are other memories, some good, some bad. He was not a perfect
man, but who is?
But he was married for 45 years to the same woman, and he raised three
kids who went on to be healthy and successful. As the three of us
stood briefly over his body tonight, I realized that we were his
legacy. He left behind little else. No great testimonials, no
particular possessions, not a lot to indicate what he had
accomplished.
He was born the tenth child of immigrant parents in New York city, the
son of a minor Mafioso-wannabe and a simple Polish girl. He never
finished high school. He lied about his age to get into the Navy,
where he had a brief career distinguished by fights and long stints in
the brig. But here we were fifty years later, three children together,
healthy, reasonably sane, and with half a dozen grandchildren in our
care.
I know of people who accomplished much less with a lot more.
Rest in peace, Dad. I love you, and I'll miss you.
You did all right.
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Posted by Albatross at December 27, 2002 12:00 AM