End of Days! : Life's Inexorable March

Joanne & The Boy's At My Dad's Memorial Service Lunch

For those of you born after 1980, inexorable basically means " it is what it is". It has been two months since my last post and the one thing that you learn about being diagnosed with ALS is that life doesn't stop for your petty bullshit. In the last two months the following has occurred.....

I turned 50
Went to Nantucket to celebrate my 50th. (Staci, Jamey, Seb & Kelly)
Went to Mexico to celebrate my 50th. Yes...I am a bit of a narcissist (Jamey, Staci, Megan, Ryan, Greg & Cindy)
Ryan has his drivers permit and is chauffeuring us around.
Involved in a serious boat accident hurting someone I love like a son. This is his story so I won't get into details but suffice to say, he is on the mend.
My dad has to go into the hospital to overcome complications he had developed during his two year battle. Three days later, he is in hospice surrounded by family and friends. He passes away in Joanne's arms 8 hours later.
My Aunties (Dad's sisters), an uncle, and a couple of my mom's sister in-laws (my aunts), spent the week together during the hospice and memorial service. Sad Time! Great Time! Great People!
Megan returned from her LA summer intern just in time to say goodbye to her grandfather.
Vacationed on Lake Winnipesaukee with friends and family to regroup and reconnect.
High School buddy's, Rich (his girls Madeline and Sophia) & Roy, came for a visit and we enjoyed busting balls for the weekend. A bit of booze was involved.
Megan left for Spain for her study abroad semester.
Work Continues
ALS Ice Bucket Challenge continues!

Mexico!

It makes my head spin to think of all that has taken place inside of 60 days. The inexorable march! I remain upbeat, but have my bouts, as Staci will attest, with bad attitude and every so often crushing fear of what will come next. I get frustrated when I can feel the disease progressing in other parts of my body and can't do anything about it. I get frustrated when I can't wakeboard anymore. I get jealous and mad that life will continue on its merry way when I am gone. I get frustrated when it becomes increasingly more difficult to type. I get renewed when I remember what I have been blessed with and when I remember how much I love my family and friends. I get resolute when I remember the courage, strength, grace, and wit in which my Dad passed away. I get sad when I realize Megan will be gone for 5 months. I get happy when I know I will be spending a week at the Cape with Ryan flying kites, biking, or playing spike ball on the beach! I feel tremendous pride in seeing who my kids have become as people and what they have accomplished. I feel love knowing that Staci is there and will always be there with me and for me... warts and all. In other words, Life! Without the lows, there wouldn't be the highs. Thank God for the challenges of life for those are the things that truly shape us and make us!

Losing my Dad sucks, but we all will eventually get chased down by death. As they say, it is not how long our race turns out to be, but rather how we run the race and I can attest to the fact that he ran one hell of a race. The following is what I wrote and presented at his memorial service:

Our Dad

What I am about to say is going to sound oddly out of place in the long shadows of my Dad’s passing, but this week has truly been wonderful and profound. The word Sad doesn’t even come close to capturing the loss that Joanne and our entire family feels at this time. However, spending time with family and friends from near and far, talking about my Dad hammers home the realization of what a special person he was and will always be in our hearts and memories. To the end, he was driven and decisive in his directives to take care of Joanne and to take care of each other. He knew it was time and had bedside chats with all of the “boys” as we are always referred to in the collective. He spoke with his grandchildren and held on until he could have final words with his sisters, Myra and Karen, who were in route from the people’s republic of California and Washington State. In short, our dad passed with style, grace, wit and humor.

Our dad was not long on the touchy, feely stuff when it came to us boys. That wasn’t the case when it came to Joanne where we often had to tell them to “get a room” but when it came to the boys it was old school. He could be tough but we all worked our butts off to earn his love and respect. Our dad was driven and rose through the ranks of the corporate ladders rapidly. Our dad was funny, witty and was always the focal point at any gathering. Our dad’s parenting style was one of if it doesn’t hurt; you probably didn’t learn the lesson. I remember a time when I was 8 years old, in Little Rock Arkansas, when all the cousins went down to the lake for cliff jumping. Going up to edge of the cliff I developed significant reservations, I turned and went back to my dad and the uncles where my manhood was being discussed and questioned. I am eight mind you. Reluctantly, I went back to the cliff’s edge and the next thing I know I’m being pushed off. Lesson learned. I remember our house was always the neighborhood hub. My Dad loved to make ice cream. He would have us churning it for hours and ordered us to keep just the right amount of rock salt on it so that it stayed at the perfect temperature. The only problem was that the only thing we ever got was a milkshake. It ticked him off to no end but we didn’t care because it was the best milkshake I can remember ever having. I remember our dad attending hundreds, if not 1000’s, of soccer matches. I remember our dad buying a motorhome and driving us across country to see family. I remember our dad sitting by our mother bedside during her battle with cancer. I remember when she died how devastated he was but also how pragmatic and strong for all of us. We must go on, I remember him saying. We did go on with all the bumps and bruises that life had to offer. It has been a great ride and we honor him by going on in his tradition.

I think the one thing that will ultimately define our dad, however, is his love and dedication to Joanne. Picture this scenario in your mind for a moment! Dad starts dating and eventually the gauntlet of fire has to be faced. Bring the young lady home to meet the grandfather, four boys in full teenage hormonal glory and a dog. Feet don’t fail me now! We never saw them again. Just when we thought the prospects for the old man were dim, a jet black haired Italian babe entered the scene. She was an accomplished math nerd who surely was afraid but the love of our father allowed her to push past her fears. As providence would have it, she had already been inoculated from the chaos of our family because the only other crazier family was her own. I say that with the utmost respect and love because Joanne’s family is our family. The depth of their love was always on display but no more than what we witnessed in the final hours of his life. His directives to care for Joanne. If you asked him if he wanted a kiss from Joanne, even in his weakened state and in the sweetest tone imaginable, he would say Sure. He kissed her to the end. In his final moments, he repeatedly called Joanne, Joanne, Joanne!

Let me end by saying this…. our dad’s last days were spent in the same hospital that my daughter Megan was born in. Most people believe that life is the opposite of death. I believe they are one in the same. We all have our own books of life where there is a beginning and an end. It is up to us to write the chapters in between. If I could have half of the quality chapters that he has had, I would consider my life to be a tremendous success. I believe that my Dad’s book of life, both personally and professionally, is one hell of a read!

Thank you all for being a part of his life!

Masingill Women Folk