My ex’s father passed away last week … I know, through my own experiences on this topic … losing a parent, no matter your age, no matter the relationship you had with the parent … it’s still a difficult thing to endure.
I was only twenty-four when my father passed away. I had three years to accept his impending departure from this Earth … he had been diagnosed at fifty-four years of age. Now, I’m forty-eight … and Leap year is upon us again … of course, leave it to “Pops” to leave this Earth on Leap Day … so the anniversary only occurs every four years! At fifty-seven years old, he left this Earth and at that point from the level of pain he was in his virtual suffocation was horrendous to watch, much less, I’m sure than to endure!
It was a cold, cold Snowy February that year … and his last days on this Earth were spent in the Hospital. As much as he wanted to “die at home,” Mother insisted he be taken to the hospital as his body started to shut down. Three packs of smokes a day was his legacy then. Of course, as time moved on … life marched forward. I forget the horrific last days he endured and remembered a lot more of his happier days spent here. There’s a picture of him, in his favorite Red Plaid Scottish Golf Cap … and a matching Red Plaid Scarf … I think he received it for Christmas during those last years. He loved them! He had a huge smile on his face Cap on his head, his pajama’s on, mind you but he didn’t mind he wanted to try on that hat, with the scarf!! He looked “very smart” with them on! A pair of knickers and matching shirt would have really finished them off!! He didn’t care that his pajama’s clashed with his attire!
After he passed on … as I was packing away things of his I came across the plaid cap. I quickly tucked it away so I could keep it for myself. I think it was a way for me to remember that picture … and now, I don’t think anyone knows what became of the old Polaroid. Years later, my brother came across the hat at my Mother’s home and quickly snatched it up as a prize … I didn’t say anything. I knew he’d lose it somewhere in his Nomadic travelings of the Country, as he always had lost the things that others would hold dear to them. But I still have my memories. My family teases me often of my memories … the ones I hold dear to my heart and when I bring them up during our family get together weekends, we hold twice a year. But to me the Plaid Cap of my Fathers will stay in my bank of memories never to be “withdrawn” again!
