Dad & elder brother Hugh

Dad's Last Stand

Observation

As is natural for a child, I observed my father all the years of my life.  Some early years were afforded close, consistent, almost constant observation.  Other years, later, were afforded only brief glimpses as my own life crowded out the time that I could allot to such observation.  And while the lifelong witnessing of my father’s life imparted many, many opportunities to learn from him (thereby following him into the realm of manhood), one particular event near his life’s end stands out as a summary of who he was.  This extraordinary experience revealed to me who Dad was –the man, the individual, the person.  Stripped of his mortal accoutrements, shed of his many roles and several accomplishments, devoid of the appurtenances of his long mortal sojourn, I was permitted to pierce the layers of his mortal wardrobe and look upon the person who’d been my father most of the years of his life and all the years of mine.

Dad at 14

Companion

Dad had lived a good life. And while it had not been without its struggles and successes; its highs and lows; its victories and defeats; it had nevertheless been a good life. He'd grown through the years of his childhood, youth, and adulthood with many of the challenges and obstacles those of his days faced. He'd met with success and setback, having lost some battles and won others; nevertheless, he'd pretty much won the war of his own mortal sojourn. He'd settled into the waning years of his life awaiting, at least in some measure, its final outcome. He'd married well.  And, he and mom had struggled together throughout most of their lives to build and preserve the family that had come to be their cherished possession - one that cherished them as much as they did it. Now the time had come to complete the capstone of their lives together as my mother’s health waned due to a prolonged illness. Mom’s health had slowly descended over several years. Inflicted with a condition that gradually robbed her of life sustaining oxygen, her heroic approaching demise had become evident to all who loved her. Dad, having endured numerous health challenges throughout his own life, now endeavored to care for his lifelong companion with what energy he had left. I'd discerned years earlier that he'd determined to outlive her, despite his own maladies, in order to assure that she was not left alone to fend for herself alone. He would prove to be successful in this endeavor.

Army Air Corp - 1943

Loss

The passing of my twin brother, Jay, came as a shock to all of us. Though he'd been seriously ill and weakened, many, if not all, had assumed he had a number of years left. Sadly, it was not to be so. At the age of 56, Jay's heart failed him; and all who knew and loved him reeled in its aftermath. Knowing mom’s exceedingly frail condition, we all held our collective breath as my sister Tammy and her husband, Phillip, made the anxious drive to our parent’s home to deliver the news of Jay's passing. Only a parent who has experienced a child’s preceding them from this life can truly comprehend the terrible anguish such an event evokes. The pronouncement induced genuine trauma in my mother's soul, as she absorbed the shock and subsequent horror of her beloved child's premature death. And, while dad’s grief was every bit as gut wrenching, his mourning would, of necessity, have to be delayed as his attention immediately focused on preserving the very life of his beloved wife – Jay’s mother.  All attention turned to mom’s condition and the support she’d need to absorb the travail that now invaded the final days of her own mortality. Inasmuch as Jay's passing had coincided with the annual Davis Family Reunion; and, inasmuch as his funeral would have to be delayed to a date following the Memorial Day weekend, I attended the family reunion, sharing in the mourning of my siblings, Jay’s family, and extended family members. Mom and dad, ensnared by the monstrous sorrow of Jay's passing, could not attend. Those several days preceding Jay's funeral were some of the most sorrowful days I had ever observed in my parent’s lives.  Viewing their sorrow through the tears of one who’d lost his own beloved lifelong companion; I too, wrestled with my own grief as preparations proceeded for his final resting place. The culmination of their anguish was born out at Jay's funeral. Both mom and dad, weakened by their sorrow, were wheeled in to Jay's funeral. From the stand where I sat, I observed mom’s mourning, and her progressive weakening as the program proceeded. Following the program, as Tammy assisted her in the ladies room, mom faltered from the weight of her sorrows. Later, Tammy acknowledged that she had been alarmed at mom’s condition and thought (at least for a moment) that we might lose her, there in the ladies room, following Jay's funeral. Dad had been focused on caring for mom in her weakened and sorrowful state since the news had arrived days earlier. However, as the remaining moments ticked by, he took his final opportunity (after mom had her moment to say goodbye at Jay’s casket) and proffered a glimpse of his own deep loss, as he said his final goodbye to Jay prior to the closing of his casket. Summoning all his emotional strength in order to maintain composure; and, unable to rise from his wheelchair, dad kissed the knuckle of his own finger and pressed it lovingly against his son’s cold cheek. He would not allow his cataplexy to rob him of this final moment with his beloved son. Later, at Jay's grave site, mom and dad comforted one another from the automobile they were in, as Jay's grave was dedicated. Their shared agony was very nearly overwhelming.

Dad as young Pilot

Departure

Inasmuch as I had arranged to remain in Utah for several days following the funeral, I watched as the shock of Jay’s passing diminished gradually with each passing day.  This shock, however, was exchanged for an even more severe sense of loss that deeply penetrated my parent’s souls, seizing all of their immediate hopes. Recognizing that I could only do so much and that there mourning would have to proceed at its own pace, I arranged to head home the following weekend. Knowing of my own pain at the loss of my twin brother, I instinctively knew that we all must mourn individually. I shared my love with my parents, expressed my devotion to my mother, whom I did not expect to see again in this life; and wended my way home to Southern California. The following Monday I received a call that mom had passed; and I made arrangements to return to Utah the following day.

WW II 1943

Despair

Immediately following mom's passing, dad was taken to stay at Tammy and Phillip's home for a few days. I went to see him straight from the airport. As I entered the room where he was, he looked up from his chair and immediately began to express his concern and dismay at the circumstances under which mom’s final moments on earth had taken place. His tears began to flow down his quivering cheeks as he shared with me his final distressing moments with his lifelong companion and eternal wife. I knelt at the side of his chair and listened intently as his voice cracked and soul shattered. Instinctively I hastened to shore up his flagging soul by reminding him of the many years he had cared for his beloved wife, my mother. He caught himself in the midst of his despair; and, with quiet difficulty, resumed his patriarchal composure. I've since wondered that it might have more appropriate for me to permit his tears and words to flow more freely; that such might have allowed him to be comforted; that such might have eased his monstrous grief. To this day I do not know.

Returning Home on Boat

Grief

During the following days as preparations were made for mom’s funeral, dad, though present, was distracted – undoubtedly immersed in his own feelings and reflections regarding his beloved wife's life. As we continued with preparations, dad, at significant points during the proceedings would interject that which he and/or mom would have wanted. Protective of her still, he declared with firmness “what Bonnie would've wanted”. I observed these moments of clarity - as we prepared the program; as I prepared the slideshow; at the funeral home; and at the cemetery.  Later, at mom’s viewing, dad appeared (as was his custom) a bit uncomfortable at the center of attention.  With the interest of so many loved ones focused on him, he, nevertheless, did his best to address them as he fulfilled society’s role of grieving husband.  As I watched, it occurred to me that he would rather have been left alone with her in a quiet room for a final, though one way, conversation.

Eldest Son

Solitude

Following the funeral and a brief stay, those interested in his continued well-being, of necessity, had to return to their own lives and responsibilities. Returning to his home following an extended stay at Tammy’s, dad was now left alone in his grief, to complete the mourning that he'd had to delay for several weeks. Dad was now left in an empty home devoid of companion, purpose, and hope. He now could begin his private grieving for his lost child and beloved companion. He now could reflect and mourn for himself, his children, his grandchildren – in short all who had suffered the loss of their grand matriarch.  He could now privately grieve for his son, for his son's family, for his son’s siblings, for all his posterity. Anyone who has undergone deep suffering is familiar with the physical component of such suffering. Dad, already weakened in his aged years, suffering from numerous physical maladies, was too weak to help anyone else. Nevertheless, dad was not too weak to suffer and mourn. His mourning would be conducted in silence. He'd not had the time, nor the freedom, to grieve immediately following Jay's passing. His strength had been needed to strengthen his faltering wife. 10 days later, the loss of his beloved companion had compounded his grief. Undoubtedly the shock of these events compressed into two weeks had afforded him but brief moments to his own grieving. Though the support of family and loving children had rallied round him during those days, it could not be sustained forever. And though loving children continued to display concern, interest, and frequent (even daily) attention; he was, in reality, left onto himself to continue a now solitary life.  He’d endeavor now to heal his emotional and spiritual wounds in the solitude of his own soul and the quiet of his own home

Husband and Father

Implosion

A brief inventory reveals the magnitude of the change that had occurred within the course of 10 days during dad's life. He'd lost his son and was now the patriarch of a wounded family. His children and grandchildren were in a state of mourning and he himself was in an even more intense state. There was nothing in my father's life that he cared about more than his own family. Now in his weakened condition, he could only watch as his beloved family mourned treasured members. Within that same 10 days, the purpose for which he had endeavored to live was now gone. Taking care of mom had absorbed most, if not all, of his interest for the preceding several years. Now she was gone, and he was left with just himself. Mom and dad had lived together alone for decades following the maturing of their children. The sharing that had become an integral part of dad's life was now abruptly unavailable. No wife to care for, no wife to share with – only deafening silence. Though terribly ill, mom had always concerned herself with their finances – even while bedridden. Now the full burden of financial concerns rested squarely upon dad’s shoulders. Likewise, mom had monitored dad’s attention to his own health – even as her health failed. Now dad was left onto himself to care for his own health and well-being. Finally, mom also provided assistance in coordinating their social concerns.  Now, with mom gone, dad was left onto himself to engage (in a weakened state) the social elements of his life – alone, as a grieving widower. Mom had always provided a communication buffer between dad and his own children. Much of the communication that occurred between the children and them occurred directly through mom who shared her communiqués with dad. Now all communiqués came directly to dad – a change that no doubt compounded the challenges that seemed to surface with mom's passing. And while his children rallied to support and sustain him in his many challenges, they were only able to blunt the spear that had penetrated his soul. They were incapable of removing it. With all of these changes commencing and intensifying within the course of a week and a half, dad experienced the effects of mortal life imploding upon him in the midst of his efforts to assuage his own suffering.

Extended Family

Remembrance

Such challenges facing dad during the months that followed Jay's and mom’s passing were not all that dad experienced however. There were opportunities that attended his being the focus. I myself arranged to have dad flown to Southern California to spend a week with me. Our week together was delightful though the effects of our shared loss were ever present. During the final evening of dad's visit, we spent several hours at the nearby Chino Airport where he had learned to fly as an army cadet prior to his military service. Dad engaged the many aged fellow veterans in that setting; and they swapped stories of their collective adventures during World War II. As one of the few ‘youngsters’ in the restaurant, I relished the camaraderie these gray-haired octogenarians shared. Dad seemed to set aside, for the evening, his worldly cares as his spirit soared in fond memories. Throughout previous months, as the focus of his children's concern, dad experienced how much his children cared for him as an individual parent. His continued regular attendance at church revealed to his children his own personal testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ - independent of any others – an observation his Bishop proffered at his funeral. And though dad adjusted and adapted to his new life, the changes would not cease.

Outdoorsman

Amputation

Less than a year after mom's passing, dad’s own personal demise commenced. Having suffered from diabetes and poor circulation in his feet for years, two of the toes of his right foot suddenly turned dark, then black, then died. Alarmed by this development, his children (especially Hugh, a physician’s assistant) intensified their concern for their father’s well-being. It proved to be insufficient, and we all learned of dad’s impending amputation. Living nearby, Hugh and Tammy had been diligently caring for dad during the prior months. Now such caring intensified, accelerating to daily developments. As the diagnosis solidified, what had originally been thought to be the amputation of the toes quickly advanced to the foot, then the leg beneath the knee, and perhaps more. His entire family fasted and prayed for his well-being as he approached the day of his operation. As he emerged from the operating room, it was evident that the damage to his leg had been more extensive than originally thought. His right leg had been amputated leaving only a few inches of his thigh.

Police Officer

Transformation

Coincident with preparations for dad's operation, the arrangements for his care following the amputation had been conducted. It was evident to both Tammy and Hugh that dad needed even more care than could be provided by frequent visits from them. He'd need to enter a care facility wherein the needs of an aged amputee could be met. As dad resumed consciousness from the operation, he realized that much more of his leg had been removed then he had anticipated. His life was never to be the same again.  He did not readily realize the extent to which his life was now going to transform. Upon leaving the hospital dad was taken directly to a superb nursing facility that could care for him, his health, and his rehabilitation. As is customary in such facilities dad was placed in a room with another man in similar circumstances. Within days dad's life had transformed dramatically. A major portion of his body had now been permanently removed. He would never live again in the home he and mom had shared for decades. He now shared his private space with a roommate not of his choosing. His children were permitted visitation under controlled circumstances – again, not of his choosing. Doctors, nurses, caretakers now poked, prodded, and questioned him regarding his personal being. In short, dad's life had transformed drastically, even completely, from the comparatively quiet, peaceful days and weeks preceding Jay's and moms passing.

Surveyor (left)

Perseverance

Taken together, dad had now lost most of everything he'd ever had in mortality. In less than a year he'd lost one of his children, his wife, his home, and his mobility. He'd lost control - of his things, of his privacy, of his schedule, of his surroundings. Others now dictated concerning his remaining possessions.  They governed his schedule and invaded his private moments.  Even his body had now become a topic of concern and conversation to those surrounding him. His freedom to decide for himself - to guide and conduct his own life, had now been severely curtailed from that which he had enjoyed through most of his years. Is it any wonder that dad’s hope may have been weakened, in some measure, by the continued onslaught of events that had led him to this most disquieting circumstance? Nevertheless, as dad struggled through what would be the final months of his life, he continued to summon deep from within, a hope in that which would outlast him. His scriptures never left his bedside. He studied them almost constantly and sought solace in their comforting words. He chose to ignore as much as possible the imposed idiosyncrasies of his several roommates. In short, dad chose to persevere through the ever-changing circumstances he was now called upon to countenance. When visited by his children and close relatives, he would set aside his own despair and interact with that measure of vitality and vigor he could, at that moment, summon. Occasionally, the twinkle in dad’s eye - that twinkle that had captured mom’s heart so many years prior, that twinkle that had often filled his children with delight - surfaced in conversations with others. Accompanied by a wry grin, such twinkling raised the spirits of those who’d come to raise his!  Having lost all, dad continued to persevere with what ‘sustenance’ still remained.

Fisherman

visits

During the months following Jay's and mom’s passing, I made several trips to visit with dad. I had established such a pattern during earlier years with mom and dad, visiting them several times a year. It was unsettling to visit dad in the nursing home. Opportunities for private conversation were severely reduced. His condition both physically and emotionally were difficult to see. Circumstances had changed and I was now less counselee, and more counselor. Attempting to buoy his spirits, the tone and tenor of our conversations adjusted to support his weakened condition.

Dad relished his own memories of training in a Stearman biplane

Stance

It was during the last of these visits that I was permitted to observe an event that has remained imprinted upon my soul - an event that continues to inspire me to this day. I'd planned to spend the middle part of the day with dad and ‘just hang out’ together. I enjoyed being with him, even in his weakened condition. Able to only visit with him infrequently, I treasured what time I knew remained. In the midst of this visit, his caretakers had scheduled a rehabilitation session. (Continued rehabilitation of his body was a condition of his residency within the facility.) Inasmuch as I purposed to spend as much time as possible with him, I went along with him to the "exercise room". The room was filled with a variety of equipment and residents engaged in various forms of rehabilitative exercise. People of all advanced ages were present, and exercising in all manners. Some like dad were exercising remaining limbs in order to conduct the remainder of their lives. Some appeared to be exercising merely to prolong their life, having arrived at a very feeble state. Some seemed to be in despair; while others appeared to be engaged and cheerful. I'd been there once before and was impressed by the buoyant attitude of the physical therapists that assisted dad and the other residents. Continuing our conversation, dad exercised his left leg "in order to meet the necessary requirements". (Dad had never been one to exercise.) On this particular day, a strong handsome young man interrupted our conversation; and, half jokingly, said, "Don, we’ll get you up walking soon". Dad chuckled back, and I suspected that the young therapist had merely attempted to influence dad’s attitude for a future exercise session. As dad continued to exercise, I somehow became distracted by an elderly woman who had called out to me; and I crossed the room to converse briefly with her. While thus distracted, I looked back to where dad had been and realized that the therapists had moved him from his wheelchair to a set of parallel bars that were undoubtedly used to rehabilitate the walking. Still distracted by the woman's conversation, I turned back to her and reengaged. After a few minutes, something caught my attention and I turned back to dad. At that moment, I watched him struggle with the assistance of two beefy therapists. Slowly, summoning all his strength, he raised up on his remaining leg. His arms, his hands, his torso, and his one remaining leg trembled visibly at the strain. His face displayed utter determination in the presence of uncertainty. The sinews of his neck and jaw clenched as he applied every ounce of his courage to drive fear and self-doubt from his soul. Gripped in complete, consuming concentration he strained to resume the stance of one who had once stood with ease. Upon rising to full height, the therapists carefully relinquished their grasp; and dad stood alone, eyes firmly fixed on his one remaining leg. He stood there trembling, perspiring, utterly focused - and triumphant over the trials that had thwarted the hours, days and months of his preceding year.  After a moment, he turned his head and, searching me out, fixed his eyes upon me.  As if to say, ‘I'm still here’ - ‘I've not gone’ - ‘I have not given up’; dad stood there on his remaining leg and symbolically ‘shook his fist’ at a defiant world. There were probably between 40 and 50 people in that exercise room that day; but for me, there were only two – me and my father. After a minute or so of stress and strain, the therapists helped dad sit back down - spent, exhausted - to rest and recuperate from his victory.

Grandfather

Sovereign

I had observed my father all my life. I've seen him in times of absolute elation and I'd seen him in times of absolute despair. I'd observed him in a myriad of circumstances throughout the 56 years that I'd known him. But it was in that moment, 25 feet away in a room of octogenarians, that I observed the person who was my father. I saw him for who he was, who he'd been, who he'd become – summarized in that moment I saw the infant who'd suffered polio, the toddler who'd traipsed behind an elder brother, the boy who'd lost that dear brother to premature death, the youth who'd been reassigned to leave his home and live with unwelcoming cousins, the officer who'd excelled as a pilot, the husband who'd just lost his dearest mortal companion, the father who was still teaching his son, the patriarch who continued to lead his posterity despite his weakened condition. I saw it all – displayed in raw courage and fortitude subduing a reluctant flesh. In that moment as he sought me out in that room and fixed his gaze on me. During that moment, I saw my authoritative patriarch and learned the lesson he demonstrated. Without a word, without a gesture, his eyes conveyed, "see", "see that I can still stand in my place", "see that I can still conquer that portion of life that remains available to me", "see that you, my son, can too", "see that you must live your life fully with that which remains available to you", "see that I charge you to do so by this example". Having delivered his message, he slumped backward, head drooped - body wet from exertion.

Eternal Companion

Demise

To my knowledge he never stood again. The disease that had robbed him of his dominant leg now progressed and invaded the remaining one. As this became evident and the doctors pressed him to remove it, he refused. He called me mere days prior to his passing and explained that the time had come; that his decision to forgo another amputation was his to make. The time for heroics was passed. I expressed my love to him, my gratitude to him for all the days of my life, my selfish desire to keep him here with us, and my willingness to let him go if such were his will. Moments later, dad did not respond to my comments and queries. Assuming he had gone to sleep in the midst of our call, I attempted further to rouse him; but was unsuccessful and finally hung up.  That was to be our final conversation. Four days later I attended my father's bedside as he concluded his mortal journey and entered the realms of eternity to greet those loved ones who awaited him there.  He’d now traversed the most difficult year of his entire life and had emerged triumphant.

Father