Ways to Remember

I have a very thick, full head of hair, always have. When I was young, my mother used to cut the hair of all the kids in my family except mine; she just wouldn’t even try. Over the years, I look for a hairbrush that is stiff enough to get through my hair. When I find one and run it through my hair, it feels really good because of how it stimulates the scalp and just gives you that feeling of all’s right, at least for now.

My father died this past weekend. He had been in a long fight with heart failure (having had over six heart procedures over the past 25 years). In the end, I think his death was a blessing to him; he just wasn’t satisfied with not being able to bend over without taking a nitroglycerine pill, not being able to walk, climb stairs, or do the things he so loved to do. Big Al, as we all referred to him, had a great life. He taught us so much about being a good parent and a great person. Much of the lessons that were most powerful, he taught us after he retired and after he had been ill. In the last 25 of his life, he enjoyed building large complex and intricate dollhouses. He donated most of them to local hospitals, churches, day cares, or places where children could enjoy them. He did so quietly without the need for recognition. I think he just enjoyed making people happy and knowing that those hundreds of hours he spent on each would be appreciated by many. His family was always important to him and he sacrificed daily throughout his life so that we could become the sort of people we were capable of being.

In many ways his passing was a blessing, certainly an end to his suffering, a time of reunion with my mom, and a gift of his body to medicine. I’ll miss him, but I know he is far happier today than he was two weeks ago.

I took home his hairbrush. It’s a stiff hairbrush that is great to pull through a thick head of hair. Every time I brush my hair, I’ll think of my dad and the legacy he left us all.