Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Mom would go up to Hill Haven every day and hold Dad's hand. And every Sunday Dad would go home and balance Mom's checkbook. Defined roles right? Hey, don't fix it if its not broken. My responsibility was to give Dad a ride back and forth. One Sunday, probably a month and a half ago, David gave him his ride back. Dad had stayed home way too long, probably sensing the end was near. (Or maybe Mom's checkbook was really screwed up this time. Again!) Anyways, David calls me, Dad's really weak and the elevators are broken. I am greeted by Dad with "Whats John doing here?!" I inform him I'm there to carry him to his room. His reply, "No one carries me!" He disgustingly says there has to be another way to the 4th floor other than the elevators. I inform him that would be the stairs. He says "then I guess we take the stairs." Hollywood can't write this stuff. So we wheel him to the bottom step, help him out of the wheelchair, prop him up against the hand rail, and the journey begins. It took us awhile, but doesn't he make it all the way up! By now he's running on empty. We drop him into the wheelchair, run to his room, and connect all his tubes. As we are connecting the last tube an announcement is made. The elevators are back in service! I believe it was God giving Dad one last opportunity to be Big Bob Hahn. And of course he didn't disappoint. I never saw him out of bed again. But he gave me a memory that will last a lifetime. Thanks Dad. Love and miss you.
