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To this day, Dad's funeral is the largest I have ever attended. Dad knew everyone. I have always said that living a "good life" would get a person a nice funeral, if nothing else.
We held it in an auditorium because we knew our church sanctuary would not begin to hold all who wanted to attend. I remember walking in, seeing the auditorium packed with people, some even standing along the walls. Floral tributes were everywhere.
Two ministers volunteered to preach Dad's service...our current minister and the minister he chose to baptize him, who had served our country church from our farm days. We elected to let both of them speak.
I believe in funerals; they are cathartic for families and they place a period on those first pain-filled days. They are the beginning of the healing process. It's now over. The person is laid to rest; the family must begin to move into the next phase of its life.
But not without fall-out. For my brothers and me, it signaled the end of our "age of innocence." We no longer had Dad to shoulder the financial and personal responsibility for Mother and us. We had to grow up fast. And, to be honest, in spite of what we had been through that previous year, we were all still kids. I was 22, Jim was 19, and Larry was 18.
I have always believed that if my dad had lived, Jim would never have become an alcoholic. Â He idolized my dad so much that he would never have done anything of which Dad would have disapproved. And Dad certainly would not have condoned Jim's drinking, having had three brothers who were alcoholics. Â
I think Dad's death affected Jim the most. Â It was ten years before Jim could even go to his gravesite; and he almost immediately began drinking after Dad passed away.
He did graduate from college, began working as an accountant in Tulsa for Amoco, but his drinking progressively got worse. Â After seventeen years, his first wife had finally had enough and divorced him. Â From there on, it was a downward spiral for him. Â Had Larry not taken him under his wing, I don't know what would have happened. Â
Larry was the one who DID NOT graduate from college. Â He began working in the insurance industry, a business he stayed with all his life. He put Jim to work for him; when Jim was drinking too much to work, Larry took care of him until he sobered up and could begin working again.
As for me, Dad's death sent my life down a completely different road as well. Â I was about to graduate from college and was looking forward to beginning my own life. Â
Because this was a story about Dad, I purposely did not include what happened to my mother during that time. Â Exactly one month to the day that Dad had his car accident, Mother was in a car accident. Â
She was thrown from her vehicle, suffering a broken neck and a brain injury. Â She was transported to Oklahoma City in a coma. Â So, I had Dad in one hospital and Mother in another, and she was in critical condition.
Dad was beside himself. Â He pushed his own recovery harder because he wanted to be with Mother. Â To make a long story short, Mother lived, but she was paralyzed on her right side and could not speak.
She spent four months in the hospital, during which time she gradually regained her speech and her ability to walk, but not without a tremendous amount of effort on her part, a lot of help from my dad, and some excellent physical therapy. Â
She never regained the use of her right hand and had only limited movement in her right arm. Â Once Dad was out of the hospital, he spent every moment with my mother, encouraging her, telling her how much he loved her, and how much we all needed her. Dad went straight from his hospital bed to Mother's side. Â He never came home until the two of them could come home together.
That was the other thing that changed about Dad. Â He began to tell us all how much he loved us, would not let us leave without a hug and a kiss, suddenly letting all that emotion flow that he had suppressed for so many years.Â
Mother continued to receive therapy at home and in clinical settings for a number of years. The minute Dad died, I knew the die was cast. Â I would be the one to step in as Mother's right hand, since she could no longer use hers.Â
That had a lot to do with my decision to marry Kenneth. Â He was from Clinton; he would be content to stay in western Oklahoma, where I now had to remain. Â And I thought he would help me with Mother, which he did. Â Kenneth, for all his failings, always treated Mother with love and respect, ready to do any job she asked of him. Â
As for how I personally handled Dad's death, the first year was the hardest. Â Every time my little nephew did something new, tears came to my eyes, remembering how much Dad loved that little guy.
To this day, my biggest regret is that Dad did not live to know all his grandchildren. Â He would have made their lives so special just as he did ours. Â Â
May you continue to rest in peace, Dad. Â I'll see you soon.
