Suzan Svatek

After 4 months of doctors and hospitals, my Mother is finally seeing stretch of reasonable health.  She has good days and bad days, but only minimal falling.  When she is feeling well, she is very frustrated that she can no longer do the thing that feeds her soul:  sewing.  She does not have good enough control over her foot to press on the foot pedal.  Getting old is heck.  It’s not for sissys.  You have to be tough.

When I think about how quickly those years are coming for me it is frightening.  It’s difficult to imagine a time when I won’t be planning the next project, reaching for the next milestone, having the freedom to be able to choose where and when I want to go somewhere.  But that is what it is like.  Mother tends to isolate and doesn’t socialize much which adds to her depression.  At her Assisted Living facility there are activities all day long.  She just refuses to participate. 

She cries a lot on her bad days, missing my Dad.  My brother took her to the gravesite on Monday.  Mom & Dad were married for 63 years.  She married when she was just 15 and he was 21, fresh out of the Army after WWII.  They knew each other 5 days and got married.  She was raised in a orphanage until she was 11 yrs. old.  After that, her mother (divorced) moved every few months.  The only security Mom had ever known was with Dad.  Now, she cannot understand why he had to die.  With her mobility challenges and missing Dad, her days are long and dark.  We try to visit her several times a week, but that doesn’t fill the empty hours when we are not around.

I only hope that when I am in her situation, which I’m sure I will be, I can muster the strength to get out and about and socialize as much as I can and keep my mind occupied with things other than Matlock, Gunsmoke, and Beverly Hillbillies.

Until next post…..live every minute of everyday.  Our days truly are numbered.

It was a comfortable, breezy November afternoon in North Texas. 12 of our family members had gathered at the cemetery in rememberance of my Dad who had passed away 1 year ago. Mother was there in her wheel chair since she now has mobility issues. Needless to say, it was very emotional for her.

Before gathering at the cemetery we had all met at a local restaurant for a late lunch. On the way to the cemetery we stopped at a liquor store and picked up some Pearl (brand) beer, my Dad’s favorite. He had drank Pearl beer for as long as I could remember. He would kick back on the weekend and have a few while watching the Cowboys play, or just because.

He was a sheet metal worker and was on his feet all day on a hard cement floor. Sitting with his feet up, usually with shoes off, in his recliner, having a Pearl beer was one of his favorite things to do.

We all stood around the cemetery plot sharing funny memories. One of them was about his evening “bathroom” ritual. Since he was raising 3 teenaged daughters and a son, in a 2 bedroom house with 1 bathroom, he didn’t get much time in the bathroom. On several occasions, he would step outside in the dark and relieve himself. Mother would think he was tending to the dog and turn on the outside flood lights. He would pound on the side of the house hollering “Hey….turn out that light!” Poor guy, no peace even outside.

After sharing stories, we each took a can of beer, popped the top and toasted my Dad for a life well lived. (None of us cared to actually drink the beer.) Then we each ceremoniously poured our can over the top of his grave, so he too could once more enjoy his beer.

I guess you could say we are a bit red-neck. And Dad was proud of that. He was a simple man, hard working, loving, with very basic needs and wants. All he really wanted was a roof over our heads, kids and wife well fed, clothes on our backs, basic transportation and an occasional weekend off.

He was a WWII Vet, serving as an anti-aircraft gunner with a small contingent of men who drove around the countryside spotting enemy aircraft and shooting them down. They had no protection. He was in 5 major battles toward the end of the war in Europe. He was only 17 went he enlisted. He sent his allottment checks to his Mother and when enough money had been saved, Dad bought his parents the first house they ever owned.

He and my Mother married when she was only 15, he was 21. They knew each other for 5 days before they married. It lasted 63 years. They raised 3 daughters and a son. They had 8 grandchildren, and 6 great-grandchildren when he passed away. (One more great-granddaughter since then).

So here’s to you Dad for a life “WELL LIVED” and loved by many.