remembering my dad - my hero

today, March 1, 2006 makes exactly one year my beloved father passed away.

remembering my dad, i go back to childhood. i remember as a little girl how i loved being with my daddy. i always wanted to go everywhere with him, and he would take me. he worked as an artist/cartoonist and a lot of times he'd take me with him. he'd let me play on the typewriters, and sometimes give me a piece of paper and a pencil and let me "draw."

my dad was born Eugene Franklin Rivers, Jr. on February 4, 1926 in Spartanburg, South Carolina, to Jeanette James-Rivers and Eugene F. Rivers, Sr. he received his education at South Carolina State University and the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, Massachusetts. he was also a Navy veteran, worked for the muslim newspaper of the 60s thru the early 80s as first a cartoonist for the paper, then on to the graphic artist/layout and design editor and for a brief spell, editor of the paper. my dad was an extremely talented and intelligent man, and i give him mad respect. He and Mama married on July 25, 1957, and a year later in December 1958 i was born. i remember seeing pictures of Daddy holding me and playing with me. i think Mama was a tad jealous of the fact i wanted to be with my Daddy all the time instead of her. yes, i was a "daddy's little girl" for a long time.

my father was a good provider, a good and faithful husband and he never, ever raised a hand to my Mama. if anything, she'd be the one to start an argument, but no matter how mad he got, he did not raise his hand to my mother. NEVER. EVER. if i did something wrong, and Dad had to punish me, oh believe me, it was swift and sure, and by the next day he would say that he was sorry, but Mama was insisting that he do something. most of the time he would come in my room and ask me how i was and as i got older asked me how i was doing in school. unlike my Mama, who literally whupped my ass if i brought home a bad report card, Dad was a little bit more rational about it and would try to help me instead of slapping the shit outta me and calling me 'stupid'.

i remember one time i had math homework to do, and it was very hard and my mother had me up in the wee hours of the morning slapping me upside my head and snapping at me to do the work. my father came in the dining room where i was seated, crying, and told me to go to bed, it was late. Mama snapped, saying oh no, she's not going to bed until she finishes this work. Daddy yelled at her, let the child go to bed. why do you treat her like that, and so on. as soon as my head hit the pillow, i was out, yet i could vaguely hear Mama and Daddy still going at it. i didnt care. i was just glad to go to sleep.

in the mid 70s he and Mama separated, when i was about 17, i think. he moved down to his birthplace to be with his mother, my grandma Jeanette, who, at the time wasnt doing well. in 1980, Grandma Jeanette passed, and my dad decided to remain in South Carolina, much to the dismay of my Mama. while living in South Carolina, he worked for the Greenville News as the director of graphic arts. he worked there until his failing health would not allow him to continue on at the paper.

before my dad became ill, he would always call Mama and me to see how we were doing, and even sent money to us if we needed it. when Mama became ill with cancer the first time, he would always call me to ask how she was doing, and i would give him updates on her condition and praise me for taking good care of her.

my Mama went into remission for about 5 years, and yet he still called her on occasion when she was strong enough to talk to him. Mama was truly heartbroken that my dad had left, but being the strong woman that she was, she carried on until in early 1986 cancer once again struck her down, this time with a fatal blow.

my father would call Mama every day to see how she was, and when she had her good days, they would talk for hours, and for those brief moments she came alive. though she and my dad had divorced, he never stopped sending her money or flowers, and i knew there was a special bond between them that would never ever end.

June 17, 1987. mama quietly slipped away to Glory.

that night took every ounce of strength from me, and being pregnant didnt help at all. at that time my oldest daughter was a little girl and i took her to her grandma's room, with tears in my eyes, i told her her Grandma was gone to Heaven. she cried and cried and i held her in my arms and we cried together. she loved her Grandma so much and it took me a while to calm her down enough where she finally went to sleep.

the next day my Dad called and asked if i had made the funeral arrangements. i told him that i did. i could hear his voice breaking, as he told me he was sending a dozen red roses to be placed on the casket during the burial. i'm fighting tears now as i write these words.

on the day of the funeral, Dad called again, this time i heard the tears in his voice saying that he couldnt make it to the funeral, but he wanted to make sure the roses would be placed on the casket once we got to the cemetery. thru my own tears i told him that i told the funeral director his wishes and that it was taken care of.

the red roses were on top of the casket as my Dad had instructed me to have done. i started crying uncontrollably as the casket was lowered into the ground. i was ready to jump into that grave with her, 7-month pregnant belly and all. in August 1987, i gave birth to another precious daughter, just as my Mama predicted, and my baby was born with six fingers on each hand -- just like her Granny's. my Mama had "marked" my baby, as the old saying goes.

years passed, and by then i was working as a CNA (certifed nurse assistant) myself, and living on my own with my daughters. my Dad would always call to see how we were doing, and would talk to his grandchildren, and would send me money when i least expected it. Daddy never forgot my birthday, and when i would open the mailbox, there would be a gorgeous card and a check or money order for a nice amount. i would call him to thank him for his generosity, and would fill him in on the everyday goings-on with me and the girls. Daddy would always tell me how proud he was of me that i was keeping me and my girls close to me, and that he felt my Mama would be proud of me too. Daddy's words meant so much to me, and he would always give me positive encouragement when we talked. that's just they way he was.

again, as the years moved on, Daddy was sounding a lot weaker than normal. i would ask him if he was okay, was he eating, how his health was and so on. i could tell he was trying to hide the health problems that he was having, and reassured me that he was alright and not to worry about me. the first clue i had was when he told me he had macular degeneration in his eyes, and that he couldnt drive at night, and because he had been a graphic artist for years, it was getting to the point he said, that he couldn't see the words in print. that broke my heart, and i worried about him even more.

each time he'd call, his voice sounded a little more weaker, and then he told me that he was having Alzheimer's-like symptoms, where his memory was fading. again it broke my heart, and by this time i wanted to go down to South Carolina to see him, but during that time, i had had a nervous breakdown while i was at work, which threw me into a horrible depression, and my mental health went downhill from there. plus worrying about my Dad exacerbated it more.

in early 2004, when Daddy would call, i could hear the effects of the Alzheimer's in his voice; he would speak so low i barely heard him, and sometimes he was lucid; other times i couldnt make out what he was saying.

i called my sister Janet in Philadelphia and asked her had she been to see Dad, and she told me some very heartbreaking news. she said that Daddy had Parkinson's in addition to the Alzheimer's and that he was in pretty bad shape. i asked her if she would give me his lady friend Claudia's number and she did. i called Miss Claudia and asked her about my father. that's when she confirmed that he was not doing too well too. i asked if i could talk to him, and she handed him the phone. his voice was very very weak-sounding, and i started to cry, because it was hurting me that thisquiet, talented, noble man who always gave me encouragement and love, was deteriorating, and i desperately wanted to see him.

he recognized my voice for a brief moment, and then his voice started fading. at that time, i was in the partial hospital program for my own illnesses, and in late 2004, i was trying to find a way to go see him. also during this time, my oldest daughter was paying my rent for me, and i felt even more guilty because she already had her own problems, and i felt like a huge burden on her.

September /October 2004. i would periodically call Miss Claudia for updates on my Dad's condition. she would tell me it hadnt changed much, but that she was contemplating putting him in a nursing home because she couldn't take care of him anymore. she said he had become very frail, he was wearing Depends, and the Parkinson's was worsening and he was becoming more and more confused. in late December 2004, i called her again and she said he was in a nursing home. i was still in PHP, and i really wanted to go to S. Carolina to see my father. there was a lady who was also in the program, and when we were outside on a cigarette break, this kind lady told me whenever i was ready to go see my father, that she would give-not lend- give me the money to go to S. Carolina.

i was touched by her gesture, and she gave me her phone number and told me to call her when i was going to go, and what mode of transportation i was taking - which i told her was by Greyhound bus, and she said to call her with the amount of the round trip ticket and she would have the money for me.

i know some of y'all are not religious or even maybe spiritual, but i believe that lady was a blessing sent to me from the Creator. shortly after that, in January, 2005, i was still in the program, and the kind lady had left PHP. i was an emotional wreck, worrying about my dad. each time i called Miss Claudia for updates, she told me in late January '05, that my Dad was taking a turn for the worst. she told me that he'd stopped eating, was very very frail and weak, and his cognition was nearly gone. i cried that night, and then after a while i called the kind lady from PHP and told her i would need the money the next day because my Dad was not doing well at all. she asked me how much did i need, i told her the round-trip fare for the bus, and she told me she'd have it for me that next day because she had a doctor's appointment at the hospital's clinic. that next day as she promised, and after i had finished PHP for that day, i met her down in the main lobby of the hospital and she wrote out the check for my bus fare. with tears in my eyes, i thanked her and said i would pay her back and she waved me down, saying, no, that she was glad to do it and gave me a big hug and told me to have a safe trip. little did i know i would get the news that burst my heart into a million pieces.

February 4, 2005. my dad's 79th birthday. i called Miss Claudia at the nursing home where the staff was having a party for my father. i had sent a birthday card a week before his birthday, and i told her that i would be coming to see him very soon. on that day, she said he was doing a little bit better, that he was eating and even opened his eyes a little. i asked her if i could talk to him, and she said sure you can and put Daddy on the phone. i talked to him and sang "Happy Birthday" to him and told him i was coming to see him soon. he recognized my voice for a second or two, and then sadly his conversation started fading away. but i was thankful to at least to have spoken to him, for which i didnt know, was for the last time.

late February 2005. i was planning my trip for South Carolina and was checking out the bus schedules when the phone rang. it was Miss Claudia. she told me in a quavering voice, "your daddy's dying, baby. the doctors dont give him long. i'm so sorry." by then i had started crying and was saying "no! no daddy, please hang on! i'll be there as fast as i can get there!" and by then, i was weeping uncontrollaby. i cried til it felt like my heart would burst; i cried and got on my knees and begged God to please let him hold on til i got there; ironically, Luther Vandross' song "Can Heaven Wait" was playing on my computer and it was like the lyrics were speaking to me, and i cried even harder--soul shaking, body wracking, gut-wrenching tears. i cried down to the floor curled up like a baby, saying over and over, "daddy please dont leave me! please daddy, dont leave me!"

i'm in tears now as i reflect on that awful night. i nearly cried myself sick. this kind, noble, talented man who used to bounce me on his knee, who would buy me an ice cream cone and tell me not to tell Mama, who didnt flip out when i got pregnant at 19, who bought me a bicycle with training wheels, and showed me how to ride it with out them, who would get things for me when my Mama said no, who was there for me thru my worst times and my good times, was being taken away from me. with a wounded heart i cried.


March 1, 2005. i got the call that i had been dreading. Miss Claudia called and told me my Daddy had died. the tears started all over again, and i wept like my heart was being ripped from my chest. my daughters were there with me, and thru my tears, i told them that their Grampa had died. they gathered around me and hugged and held me, my youngest crying right along with me; my oldest shedding quiet tears. i was a total wreck, and i had to go to group the next day.

i went to group with a heavy heart, and told them my father had passed. the tears started up again, and i told the nurse and my social worker that i had to go out of town right away for my father's funeral. they were gracious and kind enough to give me my time away, and on the 3rd of March, i made my journey to Spartanburg, South Carolina to say good bye to my Dad. thru the trip i held up even though i wished i'd had enough money to have brought my children, but my oldest couldnt take time off because she had just started her new job, and she told me that she would look after her sister and keep the household going. before i left, she made me a CD with some music and gave me her CD player so i wouldnt feel so lonely on my trip. thankfully i had paid the rent and the bills, and bought food, so they wouldnt be hungry.

looking back on my dad's life, i looked up to him when i was little, feared him when he punished me, respected him for being the man he was, and loved him unconditionally. though my heart may be a little heavy today, i feel my Dad's spirit within my spirit, and i know he's still watching over me.

most of all, i know that my Daddy loved me.

Because You Loved Me
By Celine Dion
CodesAndLyrics.com

Voices, i hope you dont mind me using the same song as yours. dont worry i didnt steal it from you, i went to the site where you got it *grins*