Farther Along
Oct 16th, 2006 at 9:44 am by Susie
Farther along we’ll know more about it
Farther along we’ll understand why
Cheer up my brother live in the sunshine
We’ll understand it all by and by.
- “Farther Along,” Traditional.
There’s a hole in the world today where my father used to be. He died yesterday shortly after 1 p.m. We were there at the side of his hospital bed.
His breathing was labored and loud, the classic death rattle. My mother was holding his hand and telling him it was okay to go, but he wouldn’t.
I should have known: Dad was waiting for the priest, the final Good Housekeeping Catholic seal of approval. Because as soon as the priest (a diminutive Italian man with snowy hair and a heavy accent) traced a cross on my dad’s forehead with oil, my father stopped breathing.
My dad always did like to do things by the book.
Like most families, we have family shorthand - lots of odd sayings that are so far rooted in the distant past, we can barely recall the origins. Last night, as we gathered around my mother’s dining room table, we used them all.
“Trash night, fellas,” one of my brothers said. We all laughed. That was something we heard once a week through our entire childhood.
He made liberal use of all the classic Dad lines: “Close that door, what are you, heating the outside?” or, if we stubbed our toes: “What the hell’d I tell you kids about running around the house in your bare feet?”
But he also came up with some new ones. Some variation on this: “That’s it, keep it up, you’ll break it and then you’ll be saying, ‘Boy, I wish I had a …’ ” (The next word was usually “chair” - because we were always leaning back on two legs of the dining room chairs while we did our homework - or “railing,” because we liked to hang onto the railing as we jumped off the final step going downstairs.) Another one that we didn’t really understand when we were kids was grounded in the story that, although we were poor, my parents somehow managed to take five kids for a week at the shore every year. Problem was, there wasn’t much more money left over once we were there, and being kids, we of course asked for everything we saw: Rides, pizza, ice cream, cotton candy. Finally, one night on the boardwalk, he snapped. “Can I, get me, buy me this, is that all I get,” he said.
Well, we thought it was funny. So we used to chant it. We had no idea the frustration it was for my parents, saying no all the time. We didn’t understand (although of course my father often told us) that money didn’t grow on trees. He was a grownup. Of course he had money! He was Our Dad.
I get my mechanical aptitude and a can-do attitude from Dad. On the rare Saturday mornings he was home and had some household project looming, my brothers would get up early and take off before he could nab them. So I was the one who held the flashlight while he worked. I remember the small, beautiful blobs of molten metal as he used a soldering gun, the smell of fresh wood shavings as he worked a hand plane. I learned how to use a saw, how to steady a piece of wood in the vise clamp on his workbench.
He was a man of few words, and when he got sick, fewer. A few months ago, when I called to see how he was, he said, “Fine. You want to talk to your mother?”
“What, did you run out of words?” I said, amused.
“Yeah, I was already talking to your brother this morning and I used them all up,” he said.
That’s my dad.
No more words now. But that’s okay. Because though he always accused us of not listening, we were. And we won’t forget a single thing he ever said.
Trash night, fellas!
Sorry for your loss.
I’m sorry for your loss, Susie. He will suffer no more.
When my father died, after a long battle with a rare brain disorder, I remember feeling more relief than sadness.
Peace to your dad and the rest of your family, Susie.
Oh god, Susie, I’m sorry. I lost my mom in 2000, and the hole doesn’t really ever go away. But you have his words, his spirit.
Be at peace. You’re in our thoughts.
We mourne with you, Susie.
You’re certainly not alone in your grief.
Take care of yourself, love your family. Your dad’s no longer suffering.
– MF
I’m so very sorry, Susie.
There are never just the right words for moments like this. My heart goes out to you and yours.
the flashlight and the soldering gun…..
http://tomsongs.com/images/I_Miss_You.MP3
Sorrow-filled days, but a relief. My condolences to you, Susie.
Sorry for your loss, but glad that his suffering didn’t drag on interminably, and that you can all take such delight in remembering him and his life.
Wishing you and your family peace.
Sure is sucky, isn’t it? No more pain for your Dad though, and that’s a good thing. “Death is how we make life meaningful”.
Blessings, Sooz, to you and yours. I just lost my other sister (two out of four of us; my mother says she’s not burying any more kids), and my own father will walk on soon, too. I’m glad you and your family could be with him, and are already able to share stories and memories. It sounds as though he was a real blessing in all your lives - and, of course, he raised a hell of a daughter!
Peace -
Lilith
God’s blessings through this time of trial.
Beautifully written send off Susie. Memories are forever.
Art
Thanks for sharing this with us, Susie. Your dad raised one hell of a daughter.
I’m sorry, Susie.
Deepest condolences, Susie. It sounds like you have lots of happy memories of your dad to comfort you at this time.
My sympathies and prayers out to you and your family, Susie.
I lost two grandparents plus a close neighbor in the last 3 months. Even that doesn’t compare to losing one’s father.
Susie, you’re in my thoughts this morning. My dad fought the good fight, and when it was time to go, he left on his own terms. Kind of like he always did.
Trash night, indeed.
-r
I’m so sorry, Susie. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
Susie… just a random reader… but I wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss… And what a wonderful tribute…
If you sat there before you put pen to paper (or pixels to screen), and thought would this be a good tribute? Well, I didn’t know your Dad… but now I do.
I’m so glad you didn’t run out of words…
I’m so sorry. He sounds like he was a terrific guy.
Leslie
Your dad sounds SO much like my dad. The “…wanna talk to your mother” thing made me laugh, yet I got a lump in my throat and chills. My dad says that every time I call. I’m so sorry for your loss. You have my thoughts and prayers.
yep, yer pop sounds like my pop too who happens to be slowly dying from emphazema…stubborn, smart and loving. Thank you for sharing your father and your, his memories with us. Everyday is a lifetime. take care
susie, I’m so sorry for your loss.
I am gald his suffering didn’t go on forever, and whatever your beliefs, that he has returned to the great Unknown, as we all will.
I am sorry for your loss. I hope you talk to him and think of him daily as I do my Dad. It helps get thru the day.
A women’s magazine (having a senior moment and cannot remember which one)recently had an article about the priviledge and honor of helping a parent to die. Your Dad was also priviledged to have you.
beautiful tribute, susie…and i hope you’ll keep sharing more of your family stories with us. i don’t think i’ll ever forget “am i dead yet?”.
the closest i felt to my dad was when he was dying, and i still feel like i never knew him. i’m glad you knew yours.
lots of love to you.
Sorry to hear about your loss. I was toiling over leaving a comment yesterday, after hearing about your situation with the doctor and the morphine from Brendan but since I’m always terrible with words, I didn’t leave any comment.
Reading this, as well as the other two posts, it’s apparent you were waiting for this. I won’t say you were ready; I guess nobody is really ready and perhaps we think of things we should have said or wished we had said after the fact, but ultimately we can only now remember what was.
Fortunetly, all those great memories will be with you for the rest of your life so even if you come on hard times thinking about the absence of your father, you’ll always have great memories to fall back on.
So sorry for your loss.
I’m sorry to read that your father passed this weeknd. My condolences.
Peace, hon.
If I think about it for a minute, I can get all weepy about my dad all over again. So I’d better not.
I’m so sorry. What a lovely piece you wrote for him - you give a real feel for the man.
Another random viewer (referred by NMN), and I too lost my father, albeit a couple of years ago.
Your tribute to him has shared him with us all, which is his beginning of immortality. My dad was also a cliche-master, however, he never grew up. I, in the end, was the “dad”, and he the forever-child.
My sincerest condolences and wishes for always having a happy memory of him. You are who you are because of him (and your mother, I’m sure), and he is in heaving smiling upon you now.
Gorgeous, moving tribute, Susie. I’m so sorry for your loss. This reminded me of my dad, who passed away several months.
I get my mechanical aptitude and a can-do attitude from Dad. On the rare Saturday mornings he was home and had some household project looming, my brothers would get up early and take off before he could nab them. So I was the one who held the flashlight while he worked. I remember the small, beautiful blobs of molten metal as he used a soldering gun, the smell of fresh wood as he worked a hand plane. I learned how to use a saw, how to steady a piece of wood in the vise clamp on his workbench.
My dad burned the kitchen table once soldering and the scar, where he tried to fix it, is still there.
My thoughts are with you.
Trash night, fellas! That is priceless.
Such a hole, and not much to fill it with, but I hope your blog friends help a little.
Please accept my condolences, Susie.
Susie,
I am so sorry for your loss. Your tribute to your father is a lovely one. After having gone through this with my mother a year ago, I can truly understand how you are feeling now. One year on, I can tell you this: although missing your loved one never really ends and there are moments that will grip you from out of the blue (when you think you’re just fine) and cause that old level of grief to return, you’ll find great comfort and a return of joy when you recall the love you shared. You’re in my thoughts and prayers.
Jude
I’m really sorry to hear about your dad. I lost my mom a few years ago, so I know about that big hole in the world that losing a parent leaves. Besides all the actual memories I have of my mother, I also carry her memory in how so much of what makes me as a person got started because of my mom. (Admittedly, she had to struggle to get me to pay attention to some things)
For those of us who know your father only through what you’ve written online, it’s easy to see what a good man he was by the daughter he’s left behind.
Susie–
My heart goes out to you and your family. Your tribute was quite touching and funny, too–it brought tears to my eyes and memories of my late dad’s (2001) similar phrases. My sister and I still live by one: “Unless you’re willing to cook it yourself, tell Mom dinner was delicious.” And you’re right–we WERE listening; I just hope your dad and mine realize that.
Larry
Sorry, is all I can say.
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss, Susie. Your moving tribute has made it ours, as well.
Suzie, all I can say is I’m sorry for your loss. Both my parents are still around (”aggravating the heck out of you” would be my dad’s riposte). Even the idea of losing them terrifies me, and yet I know we all sooner or later face letting them go.
Suzie
First time visitor sent over by watertiger at dependable renegade.
I am sorry for your loss. I lost my mom to cancer 2 years ago. Much like your family did we told stories of Mom around the kitchen table and still do.
The stories of our loved ones is what keeps them with us all of our days and the story of your Dad was very touching. Don’t stop telling them.
Hang in there
Since we’re talking about what dads can do on the phone….
I call my parents every weekend. It makes them feel good, sometimes I really need it, we’re 2000+ miles apart…
My father, according to my mother, hates it when I have nothing to say that’s much different from the previous week and, thus, don’t make the call.
However, if I skip a week, the first words out of Dad’s mouth are, “It’s about time you called - your mother’s been worried sick about you!”
My thoughts are with you and your family, Susie. Your dad died peacefully, surrounded by his loving family, and comforted by his religion. We should all be so lucky.
My own father died this past February, and your “family shorthand” reminded me of the evening my brothers, sisters, and I spent the night before his funeral. We laughed as we reeled off our own “Pop” favorites: “Turn out the lights! What are you doing, playing night baseball?”
Celebrate the joy of his life as you mourn his loss.
Aloha!
Capture the spirit, carry it on and pass it along to your friends.
Susie,
I sense your dad lives through you. Your pop can’t be anything but happy.
Missing him is OK. I am certain he appreciates your acknowledgements. Know that he is always with you.
Be good, shut the door and don’t think money grows on trees. You will see him again.
Bless you.
So sorry to hear of your loss. Trash night is priceless.
susie, i’m so sorry to hear about your loss. whenever it’s my turn i hope someone gives me as moving a tribute as you wrote in this post
Susie —
We met this summer (for the second time) at Take Back America…I recalled from prior posts that your dad had been ill for a while. Please accept my condolences and best wishes, and thank you so much for sharing him with us this way…
Susie,
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful tribute to your Dad. I am truly sorry for your loss.
Sorry to hear about your dad. I recently lost a dear friend, mentor and mother like figure the same way. It hurts way bad, but know that he is no longer in pain. Peace to you and your family.
Sorry for your loss. =(
I’m really sorry to hear of your loss, but am glad your father had his family around him and a final blessing. May he rest in peace.
Susie:
My heart goes out to you. Hang in there.
Wendy
Sue,
So sorry your Dad haspassed, but grateful that he is out of any pain. He is now in a much better place and will be waiting for all of you when your day comes. I am the oldest of five and know exactly what you are going through and will go through. It won’t be easy, but with all the family around, it will get easier. You all sound very close and you must talk about him and recall all the great times. Memories will carry you all through and keep you going.
My prayers and thoughts are with all of you.
Best from Boston,
Maureen Maloney
I’m so very sorry for your loss, Susie. Sounds like he was a helluva Dad!!
Very sorry to hear of your Dad’s passing, Susie. I lost both my parents over the last few years and no matter how prepared you think you are, it’s still a profound loss when it finally happens.
My condolences to you and your family.
Condolences
To Susie Madrak, who said goodbye her father last weekend. Read her tribute to him. If you don’t know her,…
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I lost my daddy to cancer in 2003; it’s hard even now to remember he’s not still here. I wish your family peace in this sad time.
Please accept my sincere condolences for your loss. Your dad sounds like a wonderful person. I hope that some day, my daughter will think as well of me as you did of your dad.
Oh, honey. Sending some love your way.