September 23, 1994
Its is not over for Dad, his journey home has only begun.
When Dad was diagnosed with cancer seven weeks ago, we began our journey through a hot barren, desert. At times, it felt as though we would shrivel from the elements which were thrown at us day after day. Personally, I felt as though getting out of bed each morning was the most difficult task which I encountered. It was as though each day the news got worse. One day at Mass I asked God if I would ever hear good news again. After many hours of prayer and contemplation, it occurred to me that the beauty was there if I only choose to recognize it. Then it was as if a light flipped on. I suddenly realized that we had the opportunity to present my father with the greatest gift of all--the ability to show him an example of unconditional love.
Once I really looked, I realized we could demonstrate to him each day he lived that HE was our greatest priority. We could show him that no matter what, we would make him our central focus. We were able to witness a vulnerability and sweetness about him that was once hidden beneath a rough exterior. I saw tenderness between my parents that erased any bad memories which had accumulated during their 38 years of marriage. These sweet memories would sustain my mother forever. Although my family was thrust into a situation which seemed like a nightmare, we were supported by our friends and family members. In the most difficult of times, we were able to draw upon that strength. The prayers and support of our friends was vital in our daily routine. Yes, we were walking through a hot, barren desert, but often times, there were roses blooming right there in our path. I am so thankful for the beauty we encountered along our way. It was rare and magnificent. During many of the bad days, we would be blessed by a visit from a friend, a call from a family member, a card in the mail or a hug from a loved one. "Friends form a circle of strength and love. With every birth and every union, the circle grows. Each Joy we share adds more love. Likewise, each crisis faced together makes our circle stronger." My dad was most definitely encircled by the love and support of his friends. He was most joyous when in the company of these friends.
The early days of Dad's illness were difficult to accept. It was watching the most vital human I knew slip day after day. While he was hospitalized after the surgery, Dad was given large amounts of morphine for pain control. About four days after his surgery, I called Daddy from my office to check on him and let him know that I would be down to see him later that afternoon. When he picked up the phone, he sounded so weak..so sleepy. I asked him how he felt and he replied in a voice that was unfamiliar to me. "I'm so tired, Buppie...so, so tired.". Dad sounded as though he was falling down into a large black morphine pit and was just barely holding on.
I asked, "Dad, I'm coming to see you in about two hours. Can I bring you anything?"
There was an immediate pause and I wondered if he had fallen asleep. He then began to talk, his speech still tentative, but I could sense his brain was sending a message to his mouth. Then, as though he was climbing hand over hand out of that deep pit of pain and medication, he perked up..
"Yeah. You can bring me something.". By this time he was beginning to sound like himself. "In my office desk, top drawer on the left, there are some business cards which say 'J & D Trailer Sales. Bring me one of those cards."
Thinking that perhaps he was dreaming, I confirmed his request. He informed me that he, in fact, needed this particular business card because he had sold a trailer to one of the nurses during the week. Now, I was the one who was dazed and confused.
I asked, "A horse trailer?"
He replied, "Yeah. I sold a trailer this week and I need that business card so this lady can call these people. I need to call them to give them the specs and to let them know that I'm sending this lady down."
My confused reply revealed the smile on my face through the connection. "So, are you working off commission now?"
He said, "Hell yeah! They give me a hundred bucks for each customer I send them!"
When I arrived at the hospital, with business card in hand, I told Dad that he was the only person I knew who could undergo major surgery and generate a sales commission in the same week.
Dad's reply was one of his favorite sayings, "Hey kid, if you're not first, you're last!".
It was at that point in time I realized exactly how blessed I was. My father was one of a vanishing breed. He didn't possess a formal education and, at times, his common sense overruled his tactfulness. But, he was a survivor. His fortitude, resourcefulness, courage, strength and humor prevailed over everything--including cancer. Defeat was not in his vocabulary. The material things that my father leaves behind are many, but the memory of his vibrant spirit will live far beyond the things we can see and touch.
My father COULD have been a man confined to a 40 hour per week job, with a comfortable salary and a good retirement. But, he wasn't. He was an example of someone who possessed a great passion for his career which helped to create communities for people to live and raise families. He conducted business with an integrity and honesty which is sorely lacking in our present world.
He COULD have been a man who avoided strangers and never cultivated friendships. Instead, he was a man who never met a stranger. There was always an instant connection with each person he met. The guest books from the wine cellar are filled with signatures of people whom others would have considered mere strangers, but Dad considered them friends. He possessed a phenomenal loyalty to those friends and stood by them through crisis, sickness or trouble. He always gave good, sound advice in simplistic terms and helped many people throughout his life establish businesses, build homes, make career changes, post bail, or execute practical jokes.
Dad COULD have been someone with few interests. But, we all knew he wasn't. He was someone consumed with his wine making, his horses, his beautiful home and teaching his grandchildren solid work ethics. The most beautiful memories that his grandchildren will possess will be images of him in the cold, dimly lit wine cellar, raising a sharp knife with his large arm to cut down a stick of salami hanging from the rafters where it dried. I can still see the grandchildren lined up waiting for him to slice the salami and tell them a story. The next generation of Clementino children will hold memories in their hearts of their "Papa" chopping fire wood, gathering eggs, feeding the animals, driving tractors, building barns, moving hay--all the simple yearly tasks in which he included them with great joy. They will always remember Papa and Granny's home as a place where they could run with freedom and be completely safe. They loved to assist with the essential chores which made the ranch a home.
Dad's friends COULD have been the quiet, studious types who contemplated the meaning of life. But, they weren't. We had the joy of meeting some of the most colorful and delightful people throughout his life. Most all of these characters came to be constant members of our extended family. To grow up in a home where laughter, hospitality and friendship was always present was a gift in itself. The friends who entered our home had done it all and seen it all and in spite of it all, survived laughing with huge hearts.
The night my father died Mom and I were by his side helping him to make the journey to meet our family and friends who had gone before him. Underneath Dad's bed was a clock radio which Mom had placed several days earlier. The volume was turned down very low, yet I could hear the lyrics of the song playing, which I sang to my father as I said good-bye. "We'll sing in the sunshine, we'll laugh everyday, we'll sing in the sunshine, and I'll be on my way." As I sang the final verse, Dad took his leave. I was consumed by the warmth of the sunshine from heaven above.
In closing, I would like to say that our parents give us life, nurture us when we are infants, enlighten us as we are children, guide us through our teenage years and sustain us as we are adults. The best gift I've ever received was the opportunity to assist my father in his most important journey--his journey home to the sunshine of God's love. It felt so right to help the one who was responsible for my birth, with his birth to eternal life. It makes the circle of life complete and reinforces my faith in God's plan for us.
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