Realized I had never posted the story about losing my Father Duane. Chair is doing just fine, use it every day.

January 22-09

Dads old chair just gave out, came home one weekend and the
recliner mechanism had broke. The chair meant a lot to Dad,
not in a sentimental way but because he just did not get
around good anymore mostly he sat in his chair and watched,
watched the news, watched the neighbors come and go, watched
the trains headed north with coal.

There was another in the basement, my nephew Travis and I
were tasked to bring it up, we plunked it into place. It was
far nicer looking then the old one, rich brown leather. No
swivel though, that and it sat low, hard for Dad to get out
of it. Just four stout legs with the reclining feature.

Even in his younger years, back when he was putting in long
hours building his business Dad appreciated a good chair.
Now when he needed one the most it did not have a swivel. He
could buy another but not today, He was not a patient man.

I went to the garage, found some plywood then tore the
swivel off his old chair and brought them both into the
living room. Seeing the possibilities Dad perked right up,
excited now he told me where some screws were, directed me
to the saw and his drill. It went quite well, Dad watched
every move made, offered suggestions. My sister Laura was
worried, worried when we ran dri-wall screws into the nice
legs, worried the extra four inches would dump Dad over when
he tilted it back. Dad and I weren't concerned with pretty,
just function, plywood and two by fours screwed together, no
mitered ends, no sanding or staining. When finished it
looked like a lumber truck had crashed.

. Dad was ecstatic. He just could not get over how well it
worked.

Every Sunday I came home now, every Sunday when leaving I
would pause at the door where Dad sat in his chair, grasp
his hand and tell him I loved him, he could never say it
back.

Later as he got weaker and it was more difficult for him to
reach the phone I built him a shelf alongside the chair arm,
we screwed it right to the side arm, my sister Laura again
winced, this time as we drove screws right through the
leather on the sides. We told her, told her not only was it
just a used chair, it was Dad's used chair, and if he wanted
to drive screws through it was is business. Screwed the
phone right down to the shelf also, big screws, ugly screws.
Dad loved it.

I noticed now when I was preparing to go Dad would look at
me and get his hand ready, and when I grasped it he would
hold on a little longer, our eyes would meet and feelings
would flow between us, still the words could not come.

Time passed and now even the chair was not a comfort, he was
getting sores and had trouble finding a position did not
hurt. Then the day came he could no longer make it to his
chair. My sister Karen the nurse came for the week, I showed
up Friday evening to take my sons place, my sister Laura was
getting ready to leave. Dad seemed OK but strangely both
Laura and my son Alan kept dragging their feet and ended up
staying also.

In the early morning Dad started to slip away from us, oddly
the kitchen drain picked this occasion to plug, Mom was in
the room with us, not altogether with it, sort of groggy but
still quipping about what we were going to have for supper.
We all sat on the bed and rubbed and held Dad, he pursed his
lips, we thought to say something, no he wanted Mom to kiss
him, one last time. Then he was gone. We sat with him for
some time. It felt right to be there, not hard like you
might think. I was so glad Karen had came down, and so glad
Laura and Alan had stayed.. We all felt very close,as close
as we ever have.

In time we gathered in the kitchen, the hospice nurse Marge
showed up followed by the fellow from the funeral home, they
put Dad on a gurney, I helped them carry him out past his
chair and place him in the hearse.

He never did say it, nor did he have to, his eyes said it
when he looked at me waiting with his outstretched hand, in
his custom built chair.