![]() ![]() You may see nicotine as rather harmless in comparison to alcohol or heroin. Think Marlboro Man, John Wayne or Yul Brynner. The facts about its enormous damage to our health were not quite in, but the ads making it a cool he-man thing to do were everywhere. Like many people of his generation, Dad started smoking as a teenager. ![]() As anyone knows who has a loved someone that is addicted, the vacillation between those two emotions is constant and borderline violent. It’s hard to say whether this made us more mad than sad. Even as Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) began choking him, even while enduring two bouts of radiation for cancer, Dad kept smoking. However, this is not a eulogy for Dad, but rather as a paean to gratitude and a story of addiction.ĭad’s drug of choice was nicotine. He just quietly told us to turn around so he could drop his pants. He did not raise his voice or make a scene. Calm under pressure, my sister and I still giggle at the memory of when a bee darted up his pantleg while walking on my Aunt’s farm. He loved to sing, fish, play cards and laugh. He was amused and enchanted by his granddaughters and thoroughly fascinated by his great-grandchildren. He literally worked himself out of the abject poverty of his childhood in rural Missouri to give his three kids a better life. He has been a committed husband to my Mom for 65 years. ![]() I’m grateful for the time I had with my Dad. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I am grieving, but I am writing to you about gratitude. On Monday, one week after he left home, he passed on to what I believe is a better place. Words tremble and fail to describe how that felt. I nearly doubled over as two paramedics loaded my father onto a gurney for what became his final journey into in-patient hospice care. ![]()
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