A Great Man, A Great Gift

My Dad would have turned 67 years old today. He didn’t quite make it, as he passed away last Sunday after an 18 month battle with mantle cell lymphoma, an aggressive yet rare form of lymphoma. The picture above, taken a couple years ago with my older daughter Bailey, is one of my favorites.

Dad was diagnosed in February 2007 and began treatments immediately. After several months of chemotherapy, it appeared that he was in remission and his oncologist recommended he undergo an autologous stem cell transplant. This type of treatment is very aggressive and rare for someone at his age, but it was believed to be his best chance at an extended life. He underwent the nearly three month process at Vanderbilt and returned home around Thanksgiving, officially in remission.

He had remained upbeat and optimistic throughout all his treatments, but was positively joyful to return home. In some ways, he was a different person. He was doing things he’d always wanted to do but never had before. He and my sister took a trip to his hometown of Paw Paw, Illinois (population 800). Later, he drove to Florida (in his new car, which was a shocking purchase as his old car had not yet died on the side of the road somewhere) to see the Dodgers play in Spring Training. In retrospect, perhaps he knew better than we did how little time he had left. The month of May brought news that his cancer had returned with a vengeance. In less than six weeks, it was decided that the potential benefits of further chemotherapy treatments did not outweigh the risks.

This past Wednesday he was buried at the National Cemetery here in Chattanooga. Sunday, we held a memorial service at his church of more than 15 years, St. Mark UMC in Anniston, AL. My younger brother, who is writing a book about Dad’s life, gave a very nice prepared eulogy, sharing a brief version of Dad’s life story and some of the things that made him such a great man. I spoke briefly, off the cuff, about a great gift he gave me. My remarks went something like this:

Dad was always funny about birthday gifts. Joel, Julie and Genia and April could tell you that to Dad, a birthday gift wasn’t about how much money he could spend, but rather about finding something that would really represent us. As a result, he was often a bit late with those gifts.

Another thing we remember about Dad was his stubbornness. Once he got an idea in his head, once he decided to do something, he rarely–if ever–changed his mind. When he was diagnosed with cancer, we decided as a family that he should be treated in Chattanooga instead of in Anniston. As a result, we also decided he should move to Chattanooga to be closer to his doctors. And so Dad began searching for an apartment. He found one–across the street from Genia and myself. The problem was that it wasn’t yet available, and we didn’t know when the tenants would be moving out. This was of no concern to Dad. He wanted it, and to our occasional frustration, he was going to wait for it.

Six or seven months later, he got it. And little did I know at the time, but this may have been the greatest gift he ever gave to me. I was able to spend more time with him during the year he spent staying with us and then living across the street than I would have in five years of him living in Anniston. My favorite memories of Dad are of him with my two girls.