Oh Happy Day

Today would have been my father's 90th birthday. I really thought when he was in his early eighties he would get there. He was still chopping firewood and going strong. It wasn't until his first stroke about three years ago that he began to change. After the initial one, he was just confused about math. The second stroke about 8 months later did a lot more to him. He was in a rehab facility and could still speak although he was agitated. He was having physical therapy one day when he had the last, serious stroke. I happened to be at the hospital for lab work when my cel phone rang and my mother called to say they were bringing him there by ambulance. My heart pounded as I thought that he probably would never be the same since he hadn't relly recovered from the first. When he arrived in the ER he was trying to comfort me. They did a CT scan and the doctor told me right away that there was much more damage and that within days he would decline, and he did. Each day we lost a small part of him. He had lucid moments but they got fewer and fewer. My mother took him home as we knew that is where he wanted to be. I was afraid that she wouldn't be able to handle it, she was in her late 70s. There were health care aides there three times a day. He was as helpless as a baby by the end. It was torture to see my strong father like this. About a week before he died I knew that the end was near. No one wanted to believe me in the family. He died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 87. I thank God for that. When I got the call at 4 a.m. I knew what was coming. We went to see him before they came to take him away. It was surreal. I couldn't wish him back though. He would never have wanted to be like that. When I think of him I try to remember when he was younger and full of life. I miss him so much. I never knew it would be so hard to let go. Even though I knew it was the best thing for him it was so hard. My world felt less secure. This morning I got some long awaited news via the internet. I learned who my Dad's grandmother's parents were. It was amazing to feel joy on this day. His great grandfather's name was Abraham Lincoln Courtney. His great grandmother's name was Queenie Ann Victoria Hicks. His grandmother was Trinda Ann Courtney. It is rumored that the Courtneys have some Creek Indian blood in the family. I am checking that out. So while Dad's physical body is gone, his history lives on. He lives on through me and his grandchildren. I believe he is in a much better place meeting many family members he never knew here. While I have their names I am hoping he was finally able to meet his grandmother murdered before he was born. Dad as much as I miss you, I wouldn't have you back in the condition you were in. Not for one hour. I would love to have you back for an hour when you were vibrant. Instead of crying because you're gone, I smile that you were here and despite your faults, I'm so glad that I was your daughter.