A Lesson in Resiliency From My Late Father’s Autobiography
An Unexpected Hero
My dad was quite possibly the best father ever. His life, especially his adulthood, was something that could be made into a movie. A drama. A comedy. A tragedy. A love story. A story about a hero.
In 2013, he was diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma. Not long after, they found stage 4 leukemia. Then stage 4 tongue and throat cancer. Over 8 years, he went through several types of chemos, radiation, was given a feeding tube, a trachea, and a bone marrow biopsy. Eventually, he lost the ability to talk altogether, as well as the ability to eat normally, but he never lost his wit and his brilliant mind, nor his kind, charming ways. He was making nurses smile and blush all the way up until his final hours.
I remember just 5 hours before he passed, they were simply making him comfortable (he had gotten sepsis and his organs were shutting down). He asked for water, they said they couldn’t give him any. I asked about ice chips. Again, no. He simply nodded his head, mouthed “ok”, and continued drifting in and out of sleep. He passed away on May 18, 2021.
Today, I want to share an excerpt of his autobiography from an email he sent. I hope one day to access his laptop and be able to publish the rest. I hope the world will see him as the hero I grew up knowing, and gain the strength to push through any difficulty facing you or your family.
I’ve excluded the very beginning that was in italics in his email. He wasn’t sure at the time if he’d include it in the autobiography, so I will wait until I find his final one to include that portion or not. For context, my father had been accused of sexually molesting me, I was a ward of the state, and my maternal grandmother played a hand in the false allegations.
There is a deeper story about all this. It was during the time we decided that we weren’t going to get a fair shake under the current county’s rule. We packed up and left for my father’s mobile home some four hours away.
His home was unmarked and sitting on a plot of land. His boss was friends with several officials and I was assured that no one in that county would come looking for us. Debbie drove the four-plus hours to get there. It was New Year’s Day.
I was sick from a party the night before at my brother’s. He told me he made the drinks stronger as the night went on, something called “melon balls”. He mixed them 50/50 and I couldn’t tell. But I’m getting off-topic here.
We stayed the weekend and then I left and stayed with my brother. If I was caught at least my family would be safe. I had to save up money for a move to a new county. I looked at a map and picked one with a small town. That’s where we’d move to.
I worked for a temporary employment company that would hire me out to various companies to do data entry. It turns out, from their test, that I’m pretty fast on the keyboard. Two months later I had saved up enough for us to move. And move we did without telling anyone.
A detective sort of found us although he had the wrong house. I had to call the local sheriff to correct him so I could be served with the papers. It was then that I found a new lawyer who heard my tale and took my case. He got my case where I didn’t follow the court order overturned and also a fair trial in the new county. This is a story unto itself so suffice it today, we were found innocent and the former county was under investigation. I could not be told more than that.
A reporter, oh yes we were in the newspaper, called (how she got my number I don’t know) to let us know what she found. The former county was running a black market ring taking perfectly healthy children and selling them to well-to-do families who couldn’t have children of their own. The detective, my first lawyer, the social worker, and maybe a few others that I had not been introduced to were under investigation. It may not have been the reporter, it may have been my lawyer. I’m not sure anymore.
Our social worker told us that my testimony in court along with other strong, helpful factors got the cases of others who went to prison in that county for the same thing. Doubt was raised and some of the prisoners were exonerated. They will never know who I am nor will they. But something good came out of this rigmarole.
Everything not in italics is going into my story. The stuff in italics I’m not sure. It isn’t a big part of it. It would be different if Debbie, my brother, and I weren’t friends. Then I’d spill it all. But I think the story is interesting enough without it.
I don’t know if there is a moral to this mess. As Homer Simpson once said, “Maybe it’s just a bunch of stuff that happens.” Words I live by.
My dad wasn’t just my hero just because he was a good father. He was my hero because he risked everything and still pushed to provide a home, food, schooling, and normal life for my brother and me. Despite everything he was going through. He always was a fountain of strength and perseverance. A beacon of light in the dark days.
Computer programmer. Guitar player. Romance writer. Comic book designer/writer. Father. Grandfather. Hero.
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