Classic Dad

I bought a new lens for my camera. Dad would be proud. This baby is HEAVY, weighing more than my camera itself. A sweet, uber-sharp standard focus lens. He made fun of my "plastic," lightweight digital camera lens when he first saw my digital SLR.

Much of my dad's photographic equipment is sitting in my basement. My mom didn't really have a use for it. My sister would like a camera. So I have flash units, cameras, lenses, filters, and stands galore.

My new lens needs a filter. Preferably a UV filter, but just about any basic filter will do, since really I just care about protecting my investment. Filters are a relatively inexpensive accessory, as far as camera equipment goes. I didn't order one when I got the lens, thinking I could use one of the 125 in my basement (it may not be that exact number, but close; maybe 117). Of all those filters? A single filter that fits my lens. One sad, lonely filter--that's BROKEN!! The threads are crushed. I mean, are you kidding? Why would you not throw that out?? Classic Dad. I'm sure at some point my dad duct taped it on so he could use it. Why chuck it if it can be retro-fitted?

I told my sister that story on the phone tonight. I think I began the conversation something along the lines of, "Oh, speaking of classic, I have a Classic Dad for you." She laughed, of course, and maybe even got a little choked up. (Fine, I did too.) She then proceeded to tell me about her Classic Dad of the week story. In the middle of the night last night, she used the bathroom and when she flushed, the flusher didn't work. So upon opening the lid to the tank to flush it manually and figure out what was wrong...she discovered the chain was broken. Or rather, dad's zip tie chain had broken.

Classic Dad.

Ides of March

It was one year ago yesterday when we found out my dad had cancer. I wasn't sure if that date mattered. It didn't bother me on a conscious level, but boy did my subconscious know it. It was just one of those down days, no matter what I tried. Today is a little better, although, it is my Grandma Chaffee's birthday today.

But as "luck" would have it, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day and that's always a good day, right?

huh

It's still very surreal. Most of the time I'm fine, but there are the occasional reminders that tug at the heartstrings. The questions I get from the kids are the hardest. This weekend, my mom was reading to Zach and he asked her if he could say goodbye to Papa. Ugh. He had come into the hospital to talk to Papa and say goodbye when we got there the night before Thanksgiving, but while he is old enough to "get it," I'm not sure how much he really does get it.

It's going to be a strange holiday, that is for sure. And next year's will be just a rough, I expect. Maybe worse. But I hope they will get easier as time goes on. I was wrapping gifts last night and came across the things I bought my dad for Christmas. I had mentioned to Erika that I had these things, and we half decided that we should have a "dad" night and try to enjoy some of the stuff we had already bought (favorite hot chocolate, mugs, and 24-hours of WWII documentaries;) in honor of him. Obviously, my mom will be invited, too, assuming we do anything. But at least we could all be together and feel close to him and one another.

proud papa

It's been a rough week, as you can only imagine. But is amazing to see how many people's lives daddy touched in such a positive way. It seems he wasn't just our light, but sunshine for others as well. I think just about every person I spoke to Monday and Tuesday told me how he always talked about his grandbabies and how proud he was of me. It was nice to hear. You know you think they are proud of you (or at least they have reason to be) but you only hear it once in awhile. On days when you really need a lift, it seems like a nice way to honor someone by sharing stories and memories.

There were some funny ones, let me tell you. My dad was one accident-prone man, I think from the day he was born and on. The stories i have heard over the years and some new ones I have heard in the last week...If you know my dad, you know what kind of stories they were...

Today was my mom's 64th birthday. Pretty hard to celebrate after yesterday, but we all have to move forward. Life goes on and so must we. We found some pretty funny things that made us laugh today, so we are marking new memories of daddy as well. And then we went out for dinner wih great family and friends, enough to relieve the sadness even for only a short while.

I am taking mom back to Burlington with me on Friday. We are going to Boston to the American Girl Place and doing the sleepover at one of the hotels nearby. Should be fun and will certainly be a distraction. What cute granddaughter isn't? Oh, the shopping in Natick, MA, won't be too bad either.

The formalities

For anyone interested, the calling hours will be at Seymour Funeral Home in Potsdam tomorrow from 2-4 pm and 7-9 pm. The funeral service will be at the United Methodist Church in Potsdam at 3 pm on Tuesday.

it's over

he's at peace. my mom has gone to the hospital to say a final goodbye. I took my ambien. I just don't have it in me. She'll need my strength over the next while, anyway.

messed up

I never gave much thought to the holidays in terms of what they mean when you have lost loved ones, especially when the loss is so proximate. I don't think I'll ever be able to have a Thanksgiving without remembering what a lousy holiday we just had. It's the first Holiday, and I certainly hope the last, where I spent the day at the bedside of a dying loved one. It's fortunate enough that my kids don't quite "get it" yet, and for that I am thankful. It's hard enough to answer the questions I am getting...

why is papa still sleeping?
when is he going to wake up?
why is grandma still at the hospital?
why is papa's door closed?

The older two know about the cancer and they know that eventually he will die from it. But they don't understand why the papa they saw who was just"fine" on Sunday morning will not be coming home.

Wednesday afternoon when the severe bleeding was confirmed, the doctor told us it could be a few hours or it could be a few days until he passed. They said he wasn't in pain, although i guess we really will never know. He seems comfortable. 48 hours later, and several "we think it's imminent" moments, he's still fighting. You can hear his breathing getting weaker and you can see that he is slowing down, but he's still hanging on. I wish this could be over, and I would never say that if I thought there was any prayer of him coming back. But there's not, and he wouldn't want this dragged out, any more than we do. It's been the roughest week of my life and the worst 48 hours I have ever known. The roller coaster ride is nearly over, although the sadness of the loss-to-be is just beginning to settle in.