In 2007 the most important, the most inspiring man I have ever met was taken
from me. My Dad died unexpectedly from a heart condition that he was suppose to
recover from in five days. My Dad was so amazing. He had read so many books all
his life that I can’t ever match what he read. He was a High School graduate
from Brooklyn who was elegant and highly intelligent. He was wise, kind and
extremely funny. Everyone respected and loved him.
He took such very good care of us, yes I was very spoiled. If I was sick after I
moved out he would do my grocery shopping. I was very sick with the flu once,
Dad turned up with chicken soup. He saw how small my TV was and the next day he
and My Mom turned up with a new TV. He guided me with both my profession and my
vocation. He helped formed most of my political views though later I found my
own way in all of this, and my Dad was my wisest adviser.
Yet, when he got sick I took on the responsibility to help with all the nonsense
one has to put up with when dealing with our current healthcare system. I fought
for him as much as I could to get him the best care that I personally could get
for him. I yelled and screamed from time to time because of my outrage at his
treatment at different times both in the hospital and at the skilled nursing
facility later on. My Dad couldn’t speak so he pantomimed that I was his little
fighter. Which was very sweet but I still felt that I had not done enough.
I was the one who found out he was gone, I had to tell my Mother. It was the
hardest call I ever made. My hands were shaking as I pushed the buttons on the
phone to tell her. I helped my Mom plan out the funeral. I have helped my Mom
ever since but I wonder sometimes If I did enough. Both my Mom and Brother said
I did but I couldn’t help thinking if I was stronger I could have gotten him
through it and he would still be here.