By Vicki Scott
Another Father’s Day has passed us by, and I do not think I have written much about my father in this weekly column. It is not because he had been a bad father; I cannot imagine how much stress he endured taking care of everyone while staying positive. My father was not a drinker, but I would have understood why if he was.
After my mother was in an accident that left her with brain damage, my dad was left with the job of helping her re-learn everything she knew. He could have left her to go to a care facility, but he was determined to take care of her the best way he knew how.
Some notes I’ve found written by my grandmother stated that my father repeatedly said that God would never take his love from him. My mother was the love of my dad’s life. and he not only stayed with her but covered for her and encouraged her to work hard to live a normal life. My mom ended up going back to school and getting her master’s degree in teaching with all A’s except for one B. My dad believed in her and her abilities. He was good at that.
My father also believed in me and wanted me to have a doctorate. If he were still alive, I probably would have achieved that. He was that good. I do love to learn, but different things, and I just don’t feel like teaching is for me anymore.
If he were to see me now, I think my dad would tell me that he wished I would go back to school and lose weight but that he was proud of me. He always seemed proud of me, and I think that is why he pushed me so hard.
God had other plans for my father, as a glioblastoma multiforme brain tumor took over. He was given 12-18 months to live after the diagnosis, and the Lord gave us 18 months to say our good-byes. During this time, my dad told me he was proud of me and asked me to take care of my mother.
Taking care of my mother was an honor and helped me realize just how much my father had on his shoulders. I was told by my mom and dad’s pastor’s wife that due to the stress involved, many spouses die shortly after caring for their loved ones who have dementia. Eventually, my mother went into assisted living by her choice. Then COVID came.
Toward the end of her life, every phone call with my mother included references to my father. She would tell me he was staying with her. One time while we were on the phone, she asked my dad if he wanted to speak to me. She told me he said it was not time.
It comforted me in thinking my father was staying with the love of his life. COVID kept us separated but my mother seemed at peace. Whether it was a memory or dementia taking effect, my mother was at peace. My mom and dad are now together again.
Happy Father’s Day, dad. I still miss you very much!
Vicki Scott may be contacted at lily200383@yahoo.com.
