Last May 20, I got a phone call from my brother at about 5:30 in the morning. Dad had passed away. The night before, he had complained of shortness of breath. A week before, I had been visiting with him in Atlanta in the hospital and read him the sports stories from the paper. Six months before that, he completed a half-marathon, at age 80. It still seems unreal. I hear his voice especially when I wear one of his shirts, which all have a running, astronomy, or Cornell theme. He reminds me to exercise, to keep moving. He wasnt a vegan activist like me. But when a family of raccoons moved into the chimney, his only concern was their welfare. He fed the birds every day, and had a cat on his lap when he took his afternoon nap. He was known in the neighborhood as the man who walked every day and petted every dog. When the cardiologist in the hospital asked him to envision eating a juicy cheeseburger, he said hed prefer a veggie burger. He had a full life. He completed 10 marathons; he played minor league baseball; he took up ice dancing, jai alai, skiing, rowing, ham radio, and flying; he took his sons on mystery vacations and surprise trips to the ballpark; he volunteered at the museum; he went back to school in his 70s to study astrophysics, and he gave tours of the observatory to girl scout troops. He married his sweetheart at 18 and stayed married to her the rest of his life. He made her laugh and they enjoyed each others company up till the end. Miss you, dad.
Posted on: Tue, 20 May 2014 12:53:11 +0000
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