Remembering my Dad

   

   

Philip Andersen

   I have been thinking a lot about my dad lately. He was and is such a great influence in my life. I know that there are many people who have had the misfortune of losing their mom or dad at a young age but I was blessed to share life with my dad for fifty years. Seven years ago my dad took his last breath. His last words were, "I love you" spoken to my mom. I was not there when he left us and I will always wish that I had been present with him at this moment. 

     My dad taught me how to fully embrace life. Whatever he was doing, he would put his whole heart into it. Growing up in his shadow was challenging. He was a fierce competitor in every way. This brought him a lot of success in his lifetime. He did not believe in giving up and this was evident in the way he lived and in the way he died.

     My dad experienced much suffering in his life. When he was a small boy, his little sister, June died. Whenever he spoke of her I could see and hear the love and affection he had for her and the grief the he carried. He grew up in a small town in Iowa and had many siblings. He was the youngest living child and was his mama's baby, even when he grew to be six foot four inches tall. She would often introduce him as her baby. 

     One summer, when my dad was home from college, he met "the girl next door" to his parents. He fell in love and married that girl. After a few years they began having children. When my oldest sister, Susan, was born there were complications during the birth, and so she suffered brain damage. My parents would not discover this until much later. As she grew, she did not develop skills as quickly as other children. It soon became apparent that something was wrong. My parents spent  years going to doctors and hospitals to help Susan. It was a very difficult time with deep suffering. One day my mom answered the phone and it was the hospital calling to tell her that my sister had died. She had been in the hospital recovering from surgery. This call came out of the blue. My parents had just been with her the day before and they were not expecting her to die. The shock of her death sent my parents reeling into deep grief. I know that they always wished that they had been present with Susan when she took her last breath. My sister died at the age of seven. Her life and death set the stage for my childhood. 

     

Connie and Susan

Two years after Susan was born, my sister, Connie came into the world. Her birth was a fast and furious one. I have often heard the story from my mom of the nurses telling her to keep her legs together until the doctor arrived. The fifties were such an interesting time for women in childbirth. Obviously the medical profession did not understand natural childbirth. Connie became mom's little helper. She had to help with Susan who was a hand full and then I came along and so she had to help with me as well.  I was the third girl to be born and because of a difficult birth my mother would have no other children. So I became the closest thing to a boy that my dad would ever have. He taught me how to play many sports and I was encouraged to be a strong, assertive person and to not show weakness. 

     After Susan's death, my dad worked hard to take care of his grieving wife and two small daughters. Unfortunately, I don't think he knew what to do with his own grief. Within the next few years my dad's parents died and also my mom's dad died. As I was growing up, I watched my dad grow angry. I did not understand what he was so angry about. I was to young to connect the dots of his suffering that finally led him down that path of anger. I was very young when he was walking through those dark valleys and so when he started to release his anger I was puzzled. 

     My dad had his first heart attack when I was fourteen years old. I was away at camp and got a phone call that my dad was in the hospital. I wished that I had been home so that I could be present with him. I remember walking into his hospital room and thinking that he looked very old and grey. It was scary. He spent the rest of his life suffering with a broken heart. A few years later my dad's oldest brother, Peter, underwent open heart surgery. Sadly, he died on the operating table. I watched my dad fall to pieces when he heard the news. This was a whole side of my dad that I had never seen before. All of the pain and grief that he had bottled up inside burst like the breaking of a dam. I held him in my arms as he sobbed. 

     It wasn't long before my dad's heart disease had progressed and it was his turn to have surgery. He was so scared. He was afraid that he would die just like his brother. Seeing him before his surgery was a powerful moment. I saw my big strong dad in a very vulnerable state. He was very openly affectionate and told us how much he loved us. It was clear that he thought he may never see us again. Fortunately the operation was a success and my dad lived to see his grandchildren grow into adulthood. He was a fabulous grandad. He took great interest in each of his grandchildren and was a strong and powerful presence in their lives. We spent many years going on vacations together and I will cherish all of the sweet memories of those times.

     My dad was such a fighter. When he was seventy-five years old, he was out golfing one day when his heart suddenly stopped. He just happened to be golfing with a friend of his who was a doctor and so his friend administered CPR for fifteen minutes until the ambulance arrived. Laying there on the golf course, the paramedics had to shock his heart twice to get him back. We were later told that the paddles only work about one in every hundred tries. My dad was not ready to leave us. At the hospital the doctor told us that my dad would probably not live through the night and if he did live that he would probably not have any brain function. He did live through the night and then spent the next five weeks in the ICU fighting to stay alive. It was quite an emotional roller coaster ride for the rest of the family. One day he was up and the next day he was down. While he was fighting for life, my sister Connie graduated from seminary. Even though my dad could not be there to witness this moment, his spirit was with us. We were all so proud of Connie for her accomplishment but I know that it was bittersweet for her that day because my dad could not be there. He would have been the proudest of all. He did finally make a full recovery. The trauma had taken a toll on his body, but his mind was as sharp as ever. I watched my dad spend the next five years, until his death, reflecting on his life. He went through a spiritual transformation as he made peace with the life that he had lived. I had many thoughtful conversations with him during those final years of his life. I wish now, that I could have a few more. Those last five years gave him the chance to see two of his grandchildren graduate from college. He also got to dance at his grandson's wedding. I'm glad that he fought to stay with us. We all miss him so much.

    To be human is to love. To be human is to suffer. Love and suffering go hand in hand. The greater you love the more you will suffer. Losing those we love through death is the greatest suffering of all. And yet we would not trade the life that we shared with them for anything. It is this shared life that we carry with us forever. As I said earlier, my dad still influences my life through the memories I carry. He is a part of me and I see his influence in the lives of my children and grandchildren. 

     As I write these words, two of my cousins are fighting for life. My cousin Jeri has been clinging to life because of the great love that she has for her family and friends. She has endured great suffering over that past year as cancer has invaded her body. She has not let it take her without a fight. Again we are experiencing the reality of love and suffering together. For those of us that know Jeri, we share in her suffering because we love her.

     My cousin Julie is suffering with a broken heart. She has suffered from a heart attack and cardiac arrest. She has endured much suffering in her lifetime. I feel that pain that she and her family are experiencing right now. Julie is a kind-hearted soul. I remember her as a child and how much she loved her family. She was always happy to see you. As she lays in her hospital bed clinging to life we are once again seeing love and suffering mixed together.

     Because my dad came from such a large family, I have lots of cousins. My dad loved all of his nieces and nephews and so I was blessed to know my cousins and have a relationship with them while I was growing up. Even though as an adult I have not spent much time with my cousins, because of my dad, I carry them in my heart. My dad was always moved with deep compassion for those whom he saw suffering. He would always move toward them and be present in their suffering. He passed this desire to relieve suffering on to me and my sister. I am thankful for that legacy.

     
     Today is Veteran's Day and it is also my dad's birthday. He loved it that his birthday fell on a holiday. He was also a veteran. He loved to celebrate life and so today I celebrate him. 

Happy Birthday Dad, I love you.