Dirty Socks: The Last Email Dad Sent Before He Couldn't Email Anymore.
Happy Father's Day.
TO MY DAUGHTER …WHO IS AN ARTIST, POET, WRITER AND DEAREST FRIEND IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND.
ALL IS WELL AND I HOPE WE CAN BE TOGETHER AGAIN BEFORE TIME TAKES OVER.
WHEN MY GRANDFATHER HALLFRISCH WAS THE AGE I’M AT NOW HE WOULD VISIT GRAM AND WITHIN A FEW MINUTES CURSE THE PLACE DOWNTOWN WHERE HE RENTED A SMELLY SLEEP ROOM WHERE THE ODOR OF DIRTY SOCKS COULD HAVE ENDED THE SECOND WORLD WAR IF SPRAYED OVER THE GERMAN SOLDIERS.
THOUGH I DON’T WRITE OFTEN, I DO THINK OF YOU OFTEN..
LOVE ALWAYS….DAD
It’s Father’s Day.
To celebrate Father’s Day, I googled all of Dad’s emails and found his last written message. The date: April 12, 2022.
This last email snapshots Dad’s humor. What a storyteller he used to be!
Dad has Alzheimer’s. His wife, Susan, moved him into a nursing home three years ago. She spends almost every day with him. Thank you, Susan.
After the family finishes eating their Father’s Day brunch, my brother Michael calls me back and passes his phone to Dad.
“It’s Kelly. Dadddd! Kelly.”
I live in California. Dad lives in Illinois. As Alzheimer’s continues to take over his mind and memories — talking on the phone becomes more and more tricky.
Who? Dad says, his voice a whisper. In the background, my brother explains that it’s me, Kelly on the phone. I’m his daughter. His oldest daughter. Kelly. Remember Kelly.
“Hi Dad!” I yell loud enough for the dog down the street to fetch me a bone.
“Who? Dad hates to wear his hearing aid. He hides the Earmolds in the tiny freezer and other hard-to-find places in his small apartment at the nursing home.
“Kelly. Your oldest daughter.”
“I’m confused.” Again, I hear Michael explaining who I am.
”Kelly?” Dad clears his throat. “How are you.”
He asks me to repeat my answer, and I yell my name into my cell phone. Loud.
“I’m confused,” he repeats a couple of more times.
Our neighbors probably think my husband and I are fighting. Maybe, I should close the windows.
The conversation with Dad lasts barely a minute. He ends the conversation by asking me when I will visit. “Soon,” I lie. I’m not sure when I can fly back to see him.
“I love you.”
“I LOVE YOU TOO DAD!!!!”
I googled April 12, 2022. A Tuesday. National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day. If I’d been able to read him his last email, and told him what holiday it celebrated, we would have laughed together.
“I MISS YOU DAD!!!!!”
Finally, Michael takes his phone back. He makes excuses for Dad because he doesn’t want me to feel hurt. But I don’t. Instead, I feel grateful that Mike and his wife Min are there to help Dad with this phone call.
I hang up, vowing to make plane reservations before 2025 is over. We need to see each other in person — and soon — before it won’t matter anymore.
Once again, I read Dad’s April 22, 2022 email.
Neither of us knew it would be his last. Good thing. Otherwise, he might have left out the smell of dirty socks, which reminds me of how thankful I am that he raised me with an appreciation for:
Telling stories.
A good sense of humor.
Lessons on how to love.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Thank you.
.
I know that your dad knew it was you after he hung up and had a minute to feel your radiant energy of love toward him. It’s just like God, our Heavenly Father, hears and knows we love Him.
Love my father in law