Yesterday
was one of bittersweet exhaustion. I spent the day with my Dad, helping
him sort through his work memorabilia in an effort to compile
scrapbooks for each grandchild. My Dad has dedicated his life to his
career and has helped millions through his efforts. In the midst of
dealing with his diagnosis, he is feeling driven to leave a legacy so
that the grandkids know that he was more than a man who provided
adventures and lollipops.
Watching him sort through
his boxes was difficult, but I knew that it was also cathartic for him.
There is a peace that comes from reflection, and yesterday I watched
that peace envelop my Dad. He reminisced with pride about his various
accomplishments while we sorted through the treasures to select items
for the scrapbooks.
After the piles were compiled, I
headed to Kinkos to make copies. Two hours later I left the copy center
with arms full of my father's accomplishments. It felt strange copying,
categorizing and sorting all of his milestones.
After
the paper portion of the scrapbooks was complete, we moved onto a
special project. We created a video for each grandchild, documenting his
love for them as well as discussing the special memories they have
shared. He spoke from the heart to each grandchild, telling them of his
hopes and dreams for each one. The videos were heartfelt and personal. I
was honored to be trusted to record these messages, but hearing him
speak to his grandchildren, knowing that he won't physically be there,
broke my heart. They are incredibly lucky that he loves them so deeply
to take this time to create a legacy for each one. I have no doubt that
the scrapbooks, and especially the videos, will be treasured when they
are presented at each child's high school graduation.
Today
I head back home. I'm leaving torn because I want to stay with my Dad
and spend as much time with him as possible. On the other hand I know
that my sister is coming down and she deserves the same quiet moments
that I have enjoyed. It will be hard driving away this morning, but I am
leaving with the promise that I will be back soon. I have to believe
that I'll be able to see him, talk to him and hug him again or I don't
think I'd be able to get on that plane. So, I will keep on believing
and hoping.
Peggy...I am in such a similar situation, except I did NOT get to talk to my Dad or anything while he was conscious after his illness began. I was able to spend quiet moments with him in the hospital, and I was blessed to be holding his hand as he passed over. I know that you'll cherish every second you have had and will have with him. I appreciate that you keep us posted; I love reading about your life!
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