My Father Died 15 years Ago Today.
Friday, November 11, 2016
He died on 11/11, Veteran's Day, 2001. I remember at the funeral home, I was with Mom and my brother, and when the man asked the date of death, we said "11/11", which was the street address of the house we kids grew up in. It seemed an omen.
The last 11 months of his life were a horror for him: he had had mouth surgery (I'd still like to kill the surgeon who practiced on him) so couldn't eat, drink or talk. He was in terrible, unremitting pain for all 11 months after that surgery, his eyes pleading for death. It was a blessing to know he was free at last. Oh how I wish I could have prevented that surgery! I loved him so much and I couldn't protect him.
15 years and I miss him every day. I quote him every day for one thing or another. My middle son owns a brewpub, and one of the beers he makes is an old recipe I found in my father's papers, the one he used to brew in our basement when I was little. It's one of his most popular beers. I even got Dad a mug for the Mug Club, even though he'll never use it. My son tells the Grandpop story when he serves the beer.
I tell my grandkids stories of their grandfather so they can know him second hand, and live on for another generation in their memories.
I still love you, Dad!!