March 26, 2021 was the last time I held my dad’s hand. I always said that Dad had “farmer’s hands”. They were broad and strong and aged from the sun. I’d know those hands anywhere. They were the hands that held me as an infant, held my hand as a little girl, dug in the dirt planting and weeding his garden, thumbed through his Bible as he prepared for sermons, raised in the air with excitement when his Huskers won, squeezed my should as I sat by him. I’d know them anywhere.
After a LONG battle with Alzheimers, Dad passed away peacefully at home on March 26, 2021. I was with him the last few days. He didn’t know me, but I hope that he heard me as I spoke to him. The last few months of his life were rough, he was in the hospital a lot, he was difficult with confusion. But until then, he had a sweet, gentle spirit. Whenever me or my brother Kim came to see him, he couldn’t call us by name anymore. But you could see on his face, that his heart knew that he loved us, even though he wasn’t clear who we were.
Dad was an imperfect man (like us all), with a generous spirit and a kind heart. He made mistakes in his life. No one was harder on him than himself. Oh Lord, there were years that he was so frustrating! He always answered a question with a question. But I never, ever doubted his love for me. When we told him he was going to be a grandpa…he told us “No, I’m not!” We let him know that he didn’t get a say in it, it just happened to him. When Harrison was born, he was a goner. Head over heels in love the minute he saw him. And when we brought Clara home, he fell instantly in love with his girl!
Clara (our little farmer at heart), loved to be in the garden with Grandpa Z. He’d pick her a fresh tomato or green bean and she was happy as a clam. He would dig out his old baseball glove or get out the golf clubs to play with Harrison. When he and Jean had to give up the garden, it was a very sad day. That was where you would always find Dad when you came. Even as the Alzheimers got worse, he tended to want to slip out that back door to go to the garden. So many of my memories are of him bent over pulling weeds or fussing with plants in the garden. He would have some crazy looking hat, a “wife beater” t-shirt and a ratty pair of shorts on…his uniform.
Next to his garden, food was his favorite thing. The man would eat anything…literally! But pie was his favorite. Way back when I first moved to OKC he would come to Pioneer pies and buy two or three pies at a time…all for himself. Haha! He would also walk all over town (so the pie eating never caught up with him). And he would go to great lengths to save a dime. He’d drive all over town to find the cheapest gas, then go back to the first one if it was cheapest. He couldn’t seem to get that driving all over town defeated the fifteen cents he saved on his tank of gas. He would buy whatever was on sale at the grocery store…even if no one but him would eat it. I can still picture cans of beets in our pantry (I don’t eat beets to this day).
What a blessing to be that quirky guy’s daughter! I’m thankful for a life calling him Dad.
MoreThanAllTheNumbers 