One year ago, I lost my father after a long battle with Parkinson’s disease and dementia. He was a good man. He wasn’t perfect, who is, but he was a dedicated husband and father. From caring for Mom in her final months of life to helping me out of a jam, he cared for those important to him.

One of my favorite stories happened almost 30 years ago. A friend and I went to hang out in New York City for the weekend. On the way back, we missed our train from Hoboken back to Middletown, NY. Since we missed that one, we called one of our friends to ask him if he could pick us up in Suffern, NY, which is about 30 minutes south of Middletown. We get on the train and arrive in Suffern. As we pull in, my friend said “Dude, I don’t know what you did, but your dad is outside and he looks pissed!” As we get off the train, we learned there were major thunderstorms coming through and my dad was asked to make the trip down. Knowing this weather was coming, he drove about 90 minutes with my mom to pick us up. Admittedly, I am a little surprised he didn’t leave us there. Anyway, we started the trip back home through some of the worst storms I’ve seen. He was white-knuckling it and chain smoking the whole way home. But he got us home safe.

He had a lot of those moments in his life. But what I miss the most are the little moments with him. Like the calls on snowy days talking about how much we got, him asking me to check his propane tank levels when I’d stop by, the little bits of knowledge he’d share with me about classic cars, and even splitting a case of 30 White Castles — he’d literally drive an hour to me to pick them up, even after 4 PM.

As the Parkinson’s and dementia progressed, we lost a little bit of him every year. As his moments of clarity became fewer and fewer, I cherished the ones that came.

The week before he passed, the day we started comfort care, he was clear and I had the chance to say the things I needed to, the things I wanted him to know to ease his transition. I told him “Thank you… That you and Mom did a great job with us. That I love you and we’ve got it from here.” He mouthed ‘I love you’ back at me. He passed a week later.

I miss him terribly. It was the end of an era. Both my parents are gone. I miss those talks, the wisdom, the presence. I miss all the little moments. But I find peace in knowing I was able to share so many and have him as my dad.

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One Year Gone