A life to emulate

The quiet time on the blog since Christmas reflects a stable period with the only personal health concerns being the fatigue and malaise associated with the monthly chemotherapy. I've come to terms with the down time each month and have found the antidote is family which is a steady source of life force. Friends, good conversation, music, frequent exercise, stimulating literature, current affairs provide additional stimulation to get up and go each day. I'm not working because of the chemotherapy side effects and the uncertain short term prognosis. Next MRI in March.

Marjorie's dad has lived with us the past 3 1/2 years. Although he celebrated his 98th birthday in November, he has been very active, tending the vegetable and flower gardens, responsible for the planting schedule, harvest, pest control, and any other environmental threats to fresh veggies through the summer and fall. He was a wonderful raconteur and would never fail to inform the uninitiated about the working of the mines in Canada, Montana, and Missouri.

A gentleman of the old school, he would never sit down at the table until the ladies were seated unless of course one of his women told him to please sit down (to get out of the way). He communicated the classical way; he wrote letters in perfect Palmer script. Christmas cards were out a month early, income taxes done in January, quarterly taxes filed well in advance, bills paid immediately, and he was offended if he couldn't pick up the dinner check. He regaled us with his grade school poems timed to the perfect occasion. And his reading of Robbie Burn's "To a Mouse"always amazed visitors young and old. He was an old fashion Republican: pay as you go, avoid debt, help the needy generously, avoid foreign entanglements, emphasize education for all young people, and nothing elevated a man like a job well done. Events of the last eight years have challenged him and last Spring he was forced to switch his lifelong party affiliation.

Last Fall his age began to catch up with him as his emphysema and bronchitis worsened and he suffered a series of small strokes, but he soldiered on. Two weeks ago another stroke took away his right hand function. We thought we had lost him last week when he lost consciousness, but he revived. We put him on Hospice at home with us and the children came home to lift his spirits. He took a turn for the worse Saturday afternoon and died in his sleep early Sunday morning.

We thought we had prepared for this event having seen three other parents through similar scenarios, but one is never really ready. I am reminded of the poem about the death of Lincoln likened to the grace of a mighty fir suddenly down and leaving a large empty space. So it is with Dad, so many attributes to model oneself after, nine grandchildren instructed and schooled to take up where he left off. He left a large space but our memories will amply fill it.

John August Hunt: 11/18/10 to 02/15/09.

We will have a memorial when the weather improves.

love to all, Eric