"Hi Everyone,
Today is March 4
and marks the thirtieth anniversary of the death of Grandpa Phil (or
"Dad" as some of us know him). I find it easy to remember this date,
since I remind myself that "Dad marched forth on March fourth". My
father died at his home in Lakehurst, NJ late on a Sunday
afternoon. He was 75 years old. He had been diagnosed with colon
cancer the preceding July. Back in those days (even if only thirty
years ago), reaching the age of 75 was seen as a pretty good length of
life, and that was clearly my father's position. Combined with the fact
that when it was discovered the cancer had already metastasized to the
liver, there was no follow-up treatment recommended. There are many
more options available today.
Dad spent the remaining eight months at his home in
Leisure Village West. For the most part, he was not in significant pain
and rested comfortably. With the help of Grandma Mim, he learned to manage a colostomy, which was the only obvious sign of his illness. Grandma Mim was a great caretaker, and their days were quiet and calm.
I was blessed to spend at least one day each week with
him during those months. He sat in his recliner and he frequently spoke
of his life and how he felt about many things. He used to tell me that
I never ran out of questions; in hind-sight, I am so glad of that. We
would have lunch together and then we would nap - he in his "barco-lounger" and me spread out on the couch. It was wonderful!
One of the most meaningful things he told me was that
he was often "visited" by my mother, his deceased wife who had been dead
for many years. I can still see him pointing over to the corner of the
room and saying that he would see her "right there" and they would
discuss their family and their shared experiences.
Sometimes he would cry - as would I - but more likely
we would laugh. One day he was feeling particularly well and he asked
me to take him to Kentucky Fried Chicken. And so I did.
He was visited by his children and many of his grandchildren. The
Atlanta folks all came up for that Thanksgiving and the Vermont McGonegals made the trip down on Christmas Day. Some of you perhaps remember those visits.
I often find myself wondering what he would think of
the world we know today. As an example of how things have changed
technologically, Dad was responsible for running the phone lines for the
Democratic National Convention in 1964 in Atlantic City. Each of the
several hundred phones had to be hard wired, and there were wires
everywhere. Hard to believe for all of us who utilize the magic of cell
phones! I don't know if there were any computers used for that event,
but you can be sure there wasn't a PC on every surface!
One thing I know for sure was that he was tremendously
proud of his children, the partners they had chosen and the lives that
they were living. He knew more about his grandchildren than any of
you could imagine, and he loved talking to me about them. He remembered
each of his seventeen grandchildren and thought they were terrific. He
loved talking baseball with Edward and Bernard.
I can hardly imagine what he would think if he could
see us all now! The grandchildren, their children and the wonderful
things that have been accomplished by so many! He wrote a note to Alice
when she was in about eighth grade (you may have seen it in her house),
in which he said he was her "biggest fan". He was my biggest fan as
well, and I think you can all be assured that he is cheering each of you
on from his Heavenly perch.
Although I know he grieves for us at the loss of our
dear Helen, I'm pretty sure he is happy to have her with him once
again. I suspect she was, after all, his favorite. Just sayin'
So please celebrate Grandpa Phil today and every day. Make sure to
tell your children about their great-grandfather and the influence he
had on your lives.
I still miss him.
Love,
Ginny - or "V.A." (as Dad called me) - or Aunt Ginny"
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