This past Monday night, less than a week after my parents’ 65th anniversary, my Dad died after a long illness. The news that he had passed came as both a relief and a shock.
My Dad was a humble man. In his final months, he let us know he wanted to be cremated without fuss, funeral, or even the attention of an obituary. My Dad was a graduate of St. Thomas Aquinas High School in Columbus, Ohio, and his biggest life accomplishment was supporting a wife and four daughters on a bread-truck driver’s salary.
My Dad was raised in a large Italian-American family, and each of his siblings had at least one son who was a state champion wrestler. It was a point of ribbing among his siblings that my Dad didn’t have any sons to carry on the DiSabato family dynasty. My Dad took some solace when I was a high school junior and placed second in the state on a standardized test for high school English. At the academic awards ceremony where this fact was announced, my beaming Dad ran down the aisle of my high school auditorium to hug me. Finally, his branch of the DiSabato family had produced a (runner-up) state champ.
My Dad was not a good student: he often remarked that the only A’s he saw on his school papers were the ones in his last name. But he was abundantly proud of me, his youngest and most bookish daughter: the only one in my family to go to college. When the then-President of the University of Toledo congratulated my parents on my full-ride scholarship, my Dad (again) beamed. My Dad never met the President of the United States, but he had shaken hands with a University President, and that was almost as good.
My Dad was a man of simple tastes. He loved watching harness racing, “The Price Is Right,” and his beloved Cincinnati Reds. When I called him on his birthday several years ago, he said he couldn’t believe he’d lived to be so old. My paternal grandfather died of heart disease in his fifties, and my Dad had always assumed he would, too. The fact that my Dad survived open heart surgery; cancer of the colon, bladder, and prostate; and both diabetes and hypertension was a testament not only to the powers of modern medicine but also to my Dad’s stubborn and indomitable spirit.
My Dad’s final months were agonizing as his various medical ailments all caught up with him. When I visited this summer, my Dad was pale, emaciated, and bedridden, no longer interested in even watching TV. When I left to fly back to Boston, we both knew it was our final goodbye. For the past two months, my mother, sisters, and I fervently prayed for God to take Dad, please. When I heard on Tuesday morning that my Dad had passed, the news came as a sweet relief. Sometimes when a wrestling match is long and arduous, it is a mercy to tap out.
Sep 20, 2019 at 10:42 am
So, so sorry to read this. Please accept a long-distance hug from Seoul. Peace and blessings to you and your family.
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Sep 20, 2019 at 11:04 am
I’m so sorry for your loss. You write that it is a relief, but I know this comes also from a place of pain and sorrow. My mother in law passed away earlier this year after a long illness. My deepest condolences to you and your family.
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Sep 20, 2019 at 11:42 am
I was by my dad’s side when he died. We had not been close. He was not an affectionate man toward anyone, but still I cried. I had cared for him the last years of his life. He was a very religious, humble man. I understand this moment in time in your life, Be comforted. It was his time, he’s in a better place now.
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Sep 23, 2019 at 11:08 am
Oh, I’m sorry to hear this. Sending a hug from upstate New York.
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Sep 23, 2019 at 1:23 pm
Reblogged this on wine country diaries and commented:
I have been following Hoarded Ordinaries for years now. I wanted to share her site with my beautiful readers. I loved reading about your father. Such a beautiful story. Thank you.
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Oct 20, 2019 at 7:47 pm
[…] neglected notebook and found a weekend to-do list I’d written on September 13: the Friday before my Dad died. None of the list items were checked off: apparently I stuck the notebook with its list into my […]
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Nov 1, 2019 at 7:37 pm
[…] two months have passed in a blur. I’ve been teaching a double-load this semester, so even before my Dad died in mid-September, I’ve been preoccupied with the juggling acts of teaching, tending the house and […]
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Nov 2, 2019 at 12:55 pm
This is sad, I just now found your site. I still mourn both my lovely parents, Dad died age 75 in 1995 and Mum in 2010 just before her 90th B’day. She had planned a party at a restaurant and already ordered a wonderful custom cake. We changed the words to Celebration of Life and served it at the restaurant. I was talking to my best friend the other day and she said she didn’t know which was worse, someone going unexpectedly ( like the heart attack her husband had) or lingering from cancer ( like her mother). Not that we get a choice. At least with my Dad we felt we had had bonus years since he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease at age 58.
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