My Dad's Last Act Was So Boss!

I don't mean to turn this blog into a running commentary on my Dad, but if you'll permit me one last opportunity, I'd like to share some final thoughts after going through his things. And then let me tell you about the last gift he gave my mom, which arrived four days after he died, on her 90th birthday.

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I promise not to turn this column into a hagiography of my dad. But his example lives on, and a few lessons remain to be learned. So, this is probably the last post I’ll write about saying goodbye to him.

My dad figured, correctly, that he wouldn’t make it until my mom’s 90^th birthday. In fact, he died four days prior. But he wanted to do something special for my mom on a special birthday, so he worked with my sister to make sure she’d get some beloved jewelry—a necklace and earrings. My mom loves jewelry. She doesn’t have expensive jewelry—my dad never made that much money—but she has a small dresser full of costume jewelry.

My dad was confined to a bed at the time, so there was no way he could go shopping, so he worked with my sister, told her what he was looking for, and she’d show him pictures. The first necklace was “too small.” He wanted to make more of a statement. The second one wasn’t colorful enough. He wanted something that kind of resembled flowers. The third option had dangling earrings, which my dad said he’s not a fan of (which was news to my sister and my mom, who has worn primarily dangling earrings for the 68 years they’ve been married).

Then, together, they agreed on the perfect set. I snapped a picture of my mom wearing the necklace and earrings after church on Sunday. After we flew in Thursday night, my mom showed me the necklace and earrings with performance-like care, as if she were laying out some precious artifacts discovered in King Tut’s tomb. Yeah, my eyes filled with tears. It was so like my dad to do this.