Two weeks ago, I lost my dad. He was 92.
Dad was a simple man, a blue collar worker, who farmed when he first got married and then worked at Hormel for 36 years. He coached baseball for many years and loved the game. He was also a huge Nebraska football fan. His Husker room at the old house had Nebraska pictures and posters on the walls, and he and mom watched every game there.
Mom died the day of the Colorado game in 2010 and dad missed her terribly for almost a decade. I’m grateful they’ve been reunited, but I miss my dad. Even as a middle-aged guy, I still think of myself as a little boy to my dad. Maybe that’s weird, but I had nothing but respect and admiration for the man. He was honest, thoughtful and a damn hard worker. He had a quick temper, but a gentle heart. He was often gruff, but always fair. His priorities were God and family and he modeled that throughout his life.
He suffered many health problems in his last few years, but never complained. Every time you asked him how he was he’d say, “Pretty good.” He went into hospice early in 2018 and we knew his time with us was limited. He lost the ability to walk, dress himself and even toilet himself. When the family got together, my brothers and I helped him do those things. One can never pay back a parent for all of the things they do for a child, but it was good to be able to show him the same care, concern and love that he had always shown us.
There’s an organization called the Dream Foundation that provides end of life wishes for elderly folks. We asked dad what he wanted for his wish. In typically humble fashion he said he wanted to attend one of his grandson’s ballgames. We laughed, told him that was great, and would make that happen, but we wanted to know what bigger thing he wanted to do. He said he’d like to go to a Husker football game. He hadn’t been to one in about 30 years.
The Dream Foundation worked with DONU and made it happen this past fall for the Bethune-Cookman game. They put dad and my family in a suite, waited on him hand and foot, and treated him like royalty. He’d never in his life been treated like that. His whole life he was a lower middle-class, blue collar laborer. On that game day, he was overwhelmed with the fact that people were asking him if they could get him food or drink, or if he needed anything. It was a big deal to him, because his whole life had been spent in the role of the servant. Now, here he was, enjoying the game from the comfort of a North end zone suite, and being shown the respect and dignity that he had earned. It was certainly a top moment in his modest life.
Dad was a veteran of the United States Army and served with the occupation force in Korea following WWII. He was proud of his service and often told us stories of the people he encountered, friends he made and the duties in which he was engaged during those years. I am always touched by military honors at funerals and I had a hard time holding it together when the flag over dad’s casket was given to my eldest sister at the graveside.
Dad was able to attend Christmas at my brother’s house in Lincoln and all of the family was there. It was a great holiday and dad got to hang with “the boys” and just relax.
Dad chose to be buried in his Husker football jersey. It had the number 90 on it and he got it for his 90th birthday. We encouraged everyone who attended the funeral to wear red and many did. His casket was surrounded by red and white flowers and beautiful plants. Even the funeral home people and church folks had red ties. It wasn’t a happy day, but it would’ve made dad happy.
I got to see dad the night before he died and we talked sports, music and stuff happening with his grandkids. He was struggling to breath and was being given morphine for pain. When I asked him how he was he again said, “Pretty good.” By the time I left, he was no longer responding or talking.
The next morning my eldest brother prayed the rosary with dad. Dad took his last breath in the presence of three of his five children while my brother held his hand and read the gospel for the day. Dad died a good death.
I hope I can live up to the example he showed in life. It will continue to be my life-long challenge.
Rest in peace dad. I bet you and mom will have great seats for every husker game.
Dad was a simple man, a blue collar worker, who farmed when he first got married and then worked at Hormel for 36 years. He coached baseball for many years and loved the game. He was also a huge Nebraska football fan. His Husker room at the old house had Nebraska pictures and posters on the walls, and he and mom watched every game there.
Mom died the day of the Colorado game in 2010 and dad missed her terribly for almost a decade. I’m grateful they’ve been reunited, but I miss my dad. Even as a middle-aged guy, I still think of myself as a little boy to my dad. Maybe that’s weird, but I had nothing but respect and admiration for the man. He was honest, thoughtful and a damn hard worker. He had a quick temper, but a gentle heart. He was often gruff, but always fair. His priorities were God and family and he modeled that throughout his life.
He suffered many health problems in his last few years, but never complained. Every time you asked him how he was he’d say, “Pretty good.” He went into hospice early in 2018 and we knew his time with us was limited. He lost the ability to walk, dress himself and even toilet himself. When the family got together, my brothers and I helped him do those things. One can never pay back a parent for all of the things they do for a child, but it was good to be able to show him the same care, concern and love that he had always shown us.
There’s an organization called the Dream Foundation that provides end of life wishes for elderly folks. We asked dad what he wanted for his wish. In typically humble fashion he said he wanted to attend one of his grandson’s ballgames. We laughed, told him that was great, and would make that happen, but we wanted to know what bigger thing he wanted to do. He said he’d like to go to a Husker football game. He hadn’t been to one in about 30 years.
The Dream Foundation worked with DONU and made it happen this past fall for the Bethune-Cookman game. They put dad and my family in a suite, waited on him hand and foot, and treated him like royalty. He’d never in his life been treated like that. His whole life he was a lower middle-class, blue collar laborer. On that game day, he was overwhelmed with the fact that people were asking him if they could get him food or drink, or if he needed anything. It was a big deal to him, because his whole life had been spent in the role of the servant. Now, here he was, enjoying the game from the comfort of a North end zone suite, and being shown the respect and dignity that he had earned. It was certainly a top moment in his modest life.
Dad was a veteran of the United States Army and served with the occupation force in Korea following WWII. He was proud of his service and often told us stories of the people he encountered, friends he made and the duties in which he was engaged during those years. I am always touched by military honors at funerals and I had a hard time holding it together when the flag over dad’s casket was given to my eldest sister at the graveside.
Dad was able to attend Christmas at my brother’s house in Lincoln and all of the family was there. It was a great holiday and dad got to hang with “the boys” and just relax.
Dad chose to be buried in his Husker football jersey. It had the number 90 on it and he got it for his 90th birthday. We encouraged everyone who attended the funeral to wear red and many did. His casket was surrounded by red and white flowers and beautiful plants. Even the funeral home people and church folks had red ties. It wasn’t a happy day, but it would’ve made dad happy.
I got to see dad the night before he died and we talked sports, music and stuff happening with his grandkids. He was struggling to breath and was being given morphine for pain. When I asked him how he was he again said, “Pretty good.” By the time I left, he was no longer responding or talking.
The next morning my eldest brother prayed the rosary with dad. Dad took his last breath in the presence of three of his five children while my brother held his hand and read the gospel for the day. Dad died a good death.
I hope I can live up to the example he showed in life. It will continue to be my life-long challenge.
Rest in peace dad. I bet you and mom will have great seats for every husker game.
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