March was so long ago

Why did I post my last blog 7 months ago? I enjoy writing. A few other people even tell me they enjoy my writing. But I wrote the night of the caucuses in Texas for the presidential primary, and now we are just a month away from the election itself, and I have not written anything since. So much has happened.

Life and death got in the way. Daddy was quite ill and spent some time slowly leaving his body and this earth. It was such a blessing to be with him and Mother in those last weeks of his. He went to the caucus that last night that I wrote, and he voted for Hillary. He would not tolerate other people criticizing her as so many were wont to do. I believe he saw in her some raw strength and sheer will much like his own. He saw in her some well-earned wisdom, much like his own.

That night I stood in a surprising and delightfully long line of Democratic voters at Chisholm Trail Middle School in Round Rock, Texas, Williamson County, an oh-so-red county, as we waited to vote, and I cast mine for Obama. Daddy was not well as he went to the caucus that night. His one kidney was failing. But he cast his vote that day, and that night he went to the caucus. While I don't believe he would have been like my neighbor who only took her Hillary signs down 2 weeks ago, he was determined to cast his vote for this woman he believed in. To cast his vote as he had always done. It was voting day. Caucus night. That's what Daddy did.

Daddy did everything until the end. He attended his dear friend, Dale's funeral, just two months earlier. He and Mother looked so beautiful sitting there in the honorary pallbearer section. So beautiful that I cried. I cried because I knew, as he did, that he was near his own end. But being near the end for Daddy did not really signify anything different. He just kept doing what he had always done. He got up and got dressed. He ate at the table. He cleaned up after himself and ran the dustbuster under the bar stools where he and Mother had most of their meals. He got in the car anytime someone was ready to go somewhere.

He wasn't very willing to talk about his dying. I was a bit disappointed about this - I would have liked to have had some end-of-life conversations with him, but this was not his way. He never agreed to die, never assented. He didn't deny that it was happening, he just didn't ever say that it was ok. It was happening, and he couldn't stop that, but he kept on going every day not as if it were his last. That's what Daddy did. He lived. Until the end.

At Easter dinner at our house, just weeks before he died, on one of his last outings, he insisted on staying longer than Mother thought he should. He sat in the living room and shook his head, "No" when she asked if he was ready to leave. He wanted to stay in the company of his family and the friends we had invited over for Easter dinner. Even though he couldn't talk much anymore, and not really at all in a group of people, he was there with us, listening, sharing in the conversation. And as always, always, when we would say good-bye after a visit, he said, "I love you." Clearly. Plainly. When other words failed him, those never did.

In his last three weeks, as he was having more difficulty breathing with the fluid building up in his body, he astounded me one day. Austin and Lauren brought their friends Leela and Amanda with them to visit him. When all the kids came in - 18-21 year olds with all their energy - Daddy stood up and walked over to say hi. The kids all gathered around the bar to just hang out. There happened to be a cake that a friend had brought by earlier in the day, and Daddy walked over and very clearly said, "Be sure and have some cake." Words were precious for him at this point. He often couldn't say what he wanted to, so he had given up trying much of the time. But on this day he had the words to offer hospitality, to welcome his dear grandkids' friends. Always the host. That's who Daddy was. That's what he did.

He did what he always did. Got up. Got dressed. Voted. Went out whenever he could. Shared what he had. Played the host. Loved his family. Faithful Daddy.

I haven't written for a while because I have known that the next thing to write about was Daddy. And maybe the next as well. We'll see.

Writing from Round Rock where it's been in the 90's on this last day of September. And promises to be a lovely 60 degrees or less tonight and where there is no water in the creek but many leaves falling on the white rocks.