Showing Up

 I don't believe in coincidences. Call it fate, call it Providence, whatever you like. Aside from viewing life through the lense of a Judeo-Christian worldview, I've seen and experienced too many things to believe in "coincidence."

I spent most of Father's Day and the following day in the hospital, with my dad. He had battled cancer for the past 7 months and was hospitalized over the weekend with dehydration. He took a turn for the worse Monday morning, when he suffered a heart attack. His body, savaged by the affects of the disease and the chemo and radiation treatments he had been undergoing, just couldn't take much more. Due to his condition, there wasn't anything the medical team could do, except provide "comfort care" for him. My sister and I made the decision to have them administer an anti-anxiety medication to help calm him down. He had been fighting against the pain, against death, the past few hours, and finally, about fifteen minutes later, he was no longer suffering. 

Judging by my opening paragraph, perhaps you thought he had some miraculous recovery. I wish that were the case. I made that original statement because there was an eBay envelope awaiting me when I got home Monday evening. However, I've been too exhausted- both mentally and physically- since then to open it. Until this morning. 

If there is a card in my collection that best represents my father, best represents his mindset, it's this newly-acquired Paul Grueber card. You see, my father was blue-collar. He was a hard-worker (too hard at times, to be honest), who showed up to work everyday. He was self-employed for most of his adult life, so he had no choice. But even in "retirement" he worked hard. Around the house, around the yard, building his model airplanes, restoring antiques. He was meticulous in his craft- whether it be in the commercial art he did for a living, whether it was the antique restoration, or whether it was in the woodwork he did. The man just showed up, did what he needed to do, and I respected the hell out of him for doing so.

Rest in peace, dad. It's a well-deserved rest.