October 16 2021 will be the 20th anniversary of my father's death. Finally, it feels like 20 years. The 10th still felt as if he died only the day before.
Probably because Dad was lingering about in spirit, there were numerous signs. I've blogged about this in the past so we won't revisit it here.
This year also marked the 20th remembrance of the 9-11 tragedy. It will forever be linked with my father's passing in my thoughts. He died only a short time later on 10-16.
Dad served in WWII; first stationed in Monterey, California and later in occupied Japan. There, he became friends with a Japanese family. They corresponded with ours after he left the service, but contact was lost after we moved to Florida in 1952 the year after I was born.
My father was the only person I've ever known who was equally skillful with his hands as he was with his mind. Never did we require handyman! Anything that broke he'd reach for his toolbox and fix. And he did as well or better than a professional!
Plus he was a mathematical whiz! He could do everything in his head! And Dad could look at a lengthy list of figures and immediately spot the one that was wrong or out of sync. Unfortunately neither my brother nor I inherited these skills. And I'm worse! I have dyscalculia and struggle with even simple math.
My father followed the stock market closely. He had numerous charts and graphs in his home office. Once, he claimed it was controlled and showed me the evidence. Of course his explanation went straight over my head. But I'm inclined to believe him.
Dad suffered 2 heart attacks during his lifetime. The last requiring a triple bypass. However it was cancer that eventually brought him down. In between he was stricken with a stroke that left him paralyzed on one side.
I recall when my father turned 80. He appeared so young and healthy I thought I'd have him around at least well into his 90's. My father was active, sharp mentally, and was a healthy eater. I never imagined he'd go downhill so quickly after that birthday. He died at 85 the same age as his chain-smoking father.
A Hospice worker told me that his body was programmed to die at that age. I hate to think we have so little control.
Dad was a handsome man right up until illness started taking its toll. I used to watch with amusement as women flirted outrageously with him. A sex obsessed therapist of mine wanted to meet him. I told her NO because she'd probably fall in love with him! He didn't need another woman complicating his life.
My father was also an excellent provider. Our family lacked for nothing! At one time he held a high paying prestigious job at a corporation. We lived well and owned high-end everything! That changed when I turned 14. The corporation went belly-up thanks to the skullduggery of the man above him.
Dad was almost 50 years old at the time. Employers were all hiring far younger men for less money. For years we lived off savings and his investments. Still, we lacked for nothing, but creature comforts and luxuries became far and few between.
When I was 20, Dad bought a florist shop with a wedding chapel attached on the suggestion of his financial advisor. I worked with him there for nearly a decade. It was a job we both came to hate for the same reasons; the long hours, difficult customers, and thieving employees. He was happy to sell and retire.
But sadly, Dad never recovered psychologically from the loss of his job at the corporation. That was his niche, not the flower shop! He remained bitter about this till the day he died.
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