Father's Day at a distance

Most celebrations of Father's Day between my father and me were rather muted. I would send him a card that was designed to arrive before the day, and we usually had a phone call. I cannot recall the last time that we were together in person for Father's Day.

My parents divorced when I was seven, and my mom had sole custody of me. I was the only child between the two, but my mom had four boys (my half brothers) in a prior marriage. We lived in Illinois in a big house (the same house where I learned to ride a bike) that we couldn't keep once my dad left. My mom and I moved in with my brother Mark, and I switched schools for 3rd grade.

My dad moved to Ann Arbor, MI, which was about a four-hour drive from where I lived in Illinois. This meant that all visits were pre-planned and few and far between.

My dad would send letters and postcards from places he visited. He traveled a lot for work. He would also call me on occasion. This was back when a phone call was an event. When the phone that hung on the wall rang and you had no idea who it was. You also had to sit close to the phone because that curly cord only stretched so far.

My dad liked to call when we had family get-togethers. I guess he figured he could knock out several birds with one stone. One time he called when a couple of my brothers were visiting. My brother Tony had a bad cause of bronchitis and had lost his voice. He was only able to talk to my dad for a brief minute before handing the phone to me. The first thing my dad said when I grabbed the phone was, "I was just listening to the strong voice of Tony." I think I inherited a good deal of my sense of humor from him.

In eighth grade, my mom and I moved to northeast Indiana to live with two of my brothers Bill and Ed. I believe one of the stated reasons for the move was to ensure that I went to a "good school." In fact, we moved to a house that the family had owned since before I was born. This was the house where my brothers grew up, and I would be going to the same school--Leo High School (home of the lions). This move put us closer to Ann Arbor. The drive was now a little over two hours instead of four hours, but that did not mean I saw my dad twice as often. I did see him a bit more in high school, especially when I had my driver's license and a car that I could drive to visit him and his wife Suzette.

My dad had two daughters from his first marriage. My brothers had met them, but I had not. In fact, my dad almost never talked about them, and when he did, he referred to them as "the daughters." One day while I was working at Kruse Automotive, my dad showed up. I knew he was visiting Indiana, but I did not know he would be bringing a guest. He sprung the surprise on her as well. This is how I met my half-sister Renata for the first time--behind the counter selling gas at Kruse Automotive when I was in high school.

I graduated high school in 1995 and went to the University of Toledo in Ohio. At this point, I was now about an hour's drive from Ann Arbor. This is the closest proximity that my dad and I would share, and this is when we interacted the most, though still not as much as you would expect in a traditional father-son relationship. I enjoyed hearing about his stories of academics, and I think the university experience was finally something we could bond over. At least this is what passed for bonding between us.

After I graduated college, I moved to Arizona. My dad liked the southwest, but he and his wife only visited me a couple of times. These visits were often parlayed into a visit to Las Vegas, another of my dad's favorite destinations. I discovered that he married Suzette in Las Vegas as documented in his personal Bible.

When you see someone every day or every week or even every month, you don't really notice any changes. The longer you go without seeing someone, the more obvious the transformation becomes.

Your parents seem to stay the same age forever until one day they suddenly look and act very old. I experienced this one year when I returned to Indiana and Michigan for a visit. I met my dad and his wife at a Mexican restaurant on the outskirts of Detroit. I first saw him in the parking lot and reacted in shock when I saw that he was stooped over with a considerable humpback and was using a walker. When we sat down at the table, I had to excuse myself and go to the restroom because I could not stop crying. I finally pulled myself together and returned to the table. I'm sure it was obvious that I was completely shaken by my dad's deterioration.

My dad was always relatively healthy. He was in the air force when he was younger. My brothers told me that he was in great shape when he first met my mom. My parents were both 40 when they conceived me. Thinking back to my earliest memories of when my dad brought home the original Macintosh, he was in his mid-40s and overweight. His fittest days were behind him, but that didn't mean we didn't enjoy some semblance of activity such as playing minigolf.

I think my dad used to be a biohacker. He used to keep bee pollen in the refrigerator. He would send me emails that read like magazine articles about vitamins and minerals and various supplements. I will never understand the mystery of what caused him to take his eye off the ball regarding his health.

Suzette died from a massive heart attack. My dad was down in the basement of his home when he heard the thump as she landed on the floor in her bedroom. It didn't matter that it took him several minutes to scale the stairs to check on her. She was likely dead within seconds. I went to visit my dad to help him with arrangements. I was worried about him living alone, but he had some friends/neighbors who checked in on him, and he hired help for various tasks. Suzette handled all the bills, so I helped him organize the paperwork.

We were sitting at the dining room table one afternoon when I picked up the phone to call one of the 800 numbers. There was no dial tone. I looked over at the base of the phone and saw a pair of scissors next to a cut wire. I asked my dad why he literally cut the phone cord. He said the bill collectors wouldn't stop calling, so he just cut the cord. I was holding his phone bill and showed it to him. "But you're still paying for the service?"

It was hard to get a status of his health. I knew that he was on a blood pressure pill and diabetes medication. He seemed to know which pills to take and how often, so at least he had that going for him. I visited him about five months after his wife died. At that point, he was probably a borderline case for someone who probably shouldn't be living on his own. But, who was I to tell him? That conversation is difficult even between parents and offspring who have the best relationships. This is the house he had been living in ever since he and my mom divorced. It was hard enough getting him to give up driving.

A couple of months after my visit, my dad had a psychotic episode. The meals-on-wheels people sounded an alarm when he was not picking up his meals. The police showed up to discover my dad partially unclothed and having delusions that people were after him. He had thrown kitchen knives into the wall. He had washed a shirt in the sink and was drying it over a space heater. I later discovered that he completely trashed his iMac.

My dad was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric treatment facility. In a turnabout, I was traveling for work and did not visit him while he was staying at this facility. He was soon moved to a group home where I did visit him. When I showed up to see him, he did not recognize me at first. He was diagnosed with Lewy Body dementia, the same condition that Robin Williams had.

I was in Arizona when I got a call from one of my half-sisters indicating that my dad's health was failing fast. She told me even if I left at that moment, I would most likely not make it. I remember completing a form authorizing cremation and faxing it from the Office Depot down the street that's no longer there.

On May 16, 2014, I received a call from the director of the group home that my dad had passed away.

I have questions to ask and wisdom to seek from the person who is most like me. How do you navigate life and relationships with a brain that works the way ours does, dad? What would you do differently? Did you choose the right path? Did I?

The timing didn't work out for us. When your mind was sharp, mine was not ready to formulate the questions I have now. By the time I was ready, you were already gone. 

If you still have your father, hug him if he's with you. Call him if he's not. Have the courage to ask him the questions before you no longer have the option.

Happy Father's Day from a distance.