Dad, Part II

One year ago, we moved my elderly father (almost 92 now) into an assisted living facility here in Portsmouth. In the last couple weeks, he’s started slowing down quite a bit and his needs have increased quite a bit. At least once a day, I drop by and visit to make sure everything’s okay. I don’t know how full-time caregivers do it. I really don’t. Just dancing on the fringes of caregiving takes a whole heapin’ helping of my emotional energy.

These days, the time I’d normally spend writing new blogs is devoted to helping him as he writes the last pages in the last chapter of his earthly life.

When I was a little girl growing up in Waterview (Portsmouth), my father would walk around our neighborhood every evening after dinner. He called it his “evening constitutional.” He never walked out that front door without me running after him yelling, “Daddy, wait for me!”

I was his shadow, following him wherever he went. I adored my father. I thought he was the smartest, handsomest, most wonderful person on earth.

And then when I was 14, he walked out the door one night without me and didn’t come back. It was 30 years before I would be a regular part of his life again. And now, as his life draws to a close, the little girl in me still feels a little trepidation about saying good-bye for another 30 years.

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s


Left to right is Rose (me), Dad, Rick, Tommy and Eddie. I'm not sure where we're at here, but this photo was taken during our trip to California in 1966.


My father (right) with his father, in Santa Monica.


Eddie (far left), Rick, Dad, Rose, Dolly, and Mom.

My father and my brothers at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.

My father and my brothers (Rick and Ed) at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.

To read more about my father, click here.

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  1. Winston W.

    You are truly amazing and a true blessing.

  2. Sears Homes

    @Alan Winston
    Alan, I think you’re right! That must be Hoover Dam. In summer of 1966, our family drove from Portsmouth, Virginia to Santa Monica, California and we made a few touristy stops along the way. 🙂