The Week of Dad's Death: May 27, 1996: Memorial Day

On Monday of the week of Dad's death, I'm not sure anything memorable happened, but maybe someone reading this will correct me.

The cancer was taking more and more of Dad's life away.

He wasn't eating much and anytime he ate even the smallest amount, we noted it as something remarkable.  He was, from time to time, enjoying Popsicles so if someone called and asked how Dad was doing, Mom or one of us kids would answer, with optimism, "Not bad. He ate some Popsicle today" as if it were a breakthrough or a way that he was giving himself another day of life.

As his life ebbed, we looked for every sign we could that something was good.

On the day the stacks went down, the Utah Jazz played the Seattle Sonics in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals.  When the series started, Dad was still fully conscious and happy that John Stockton's Jazz were playing for a berth in the NBA Finals.

Dad felt a close affinity to John Stockton because he'd been drinking at Jack and Dan's on Hamilton in Spokane for years and Jack Stockton was always ready to shoot the shit when Dad walked in and I think Dad liked it that someone he knew had a kid who was so good in the NBA.

On the day the stacks went down, the Jazz lost.  I told Dad that.  His eyes, blanked by cancer, looked sad for a second.

The series was off for a day on Memorial Day, but the television for him to watch it on was in his room.

A few days earlier, I had figured out a way to connect the small television my mom had to the main cable so Dad could have the game on in his room.  My efforts to make this happen caused my mother some panic.  It was understandable.  Mom always enjoys watching soap operas, Jeopardy, and the local news.  These diversions were even more important to her during this trying time.

I am the first to admit, I'm not immensely handy and I'm slow doing projects like this.

I had figured out the way to have three televisions on the one cable service, but my plan did require some trial and error.  Mom didn't like the trial.  She didn't care much for the error either.

I might have finally told her to leave me alone.

But I got it.  I made it work. And even though Dad couldn't watch or hear that television most of the time (or so we thought), it was clear he enjoyed having the television and the sound of the games in his room.

I don't remember any details from Memorial Day, but I do know that Mom and I established a routine.  She slept at night and I stayed awake through the night so that if I heard Dad make a noise I could help him get out of bed and go to the bathroom or help him with anything else he needed.

In the evening, around nine o'clock I strolled down to HumDinger and got a burger.  At first, Mom thought I was making a statement that food in the house wasn't good enough.  I think I helped her see that I was doing it for comfort.  The walk gave me comfort and a chance to have a few minutes out of the house.  The food gave me comfort, too.

I'd been eating burgers at the HumDinger/Tastee Freeze for about thirty years and their food gave me a sense of something stable, comforting while I was losing my dad. 

I watched ABC News Now through the night.   It was both serious and funny.  It was often cavalier. It featured the World News Polka.  Ian Shoales made regular appearances.  Dick Schapp did good and both mirthful and serious stuff.  I thought Thalia Assuras was beautiful and wry.  I thought Kevin Newman was really smart.  I often wrote letters to a woman in Eugene and read letters she sent me.

I also dug out video tapes Dad had made with the video camera he loved.  He took videos of Denny and him driving him up the river and had footage of a time when Jack and Linda visited. There were other family videos.  Sometimes the moving pictures made me carsick because Dad didn't hold the camera securely or he made quick moves.  He talked in several of them. I remember in one he was explaining his take on what was happening around the Silver Valley and some one else taped him and the hand gestures he used when speaking were suddenly alive.  I took comfort in watching this video footage of my dad being fully alive.