All Saints Day, a year later

 Last October my dad was on one of his many trips around the world and this time he found him self on a pilgrimage with a group of people from his diocese.  He spent time in Rome as well as many other places in Italy.  Here he is carrying a cross as he and his fellow travelers prayed while they traversed some of the oldest walkways in the world.  

He enjoyed seeing many holy sites and spent some prayerful time reflecting on his life.  

He sent us pictures every single day.  As was his practice during his adventures, he would not let the sun set on the day before he shared all of his days activities with us.  I am so grateful that he did.

I should have suspected something was wrong when he referred to their itinerary as "aggressive" one night as he sent the day's pictures.   

My dad has literally been all over the world and has never said that an itinerary was too much for him.

He was starting to feel worn out by the end of the trip.  He felt worse on the plane.  I was not yet worried  however because when he returned from another trip from "down under" the previous spring he was sick and down and out for a few weeks.  I was helping to lead a women's retreat at my church at the time and remember asking the entire group to join me in prayer for his healing.  As per usual, he recovered without incident at home and went on to enjoy his summer and fall.

After returning  from his latest trip last October he felt it best to head to the hospital.  He had no appetite and no energy.  I was sure that they would get it all figured out and held him in prayer each day. 

My father was an extremely private person and his health was not something he frequently discussed.  As luck would have it though, when we were visiting he and Ginny in July of 2025 for their 40th wedding anniversary my aunt and James asked him how he was feeling lately (an innocent topic of conversation) and as they recall,  he told them he was "just fine" followed by "well there's this one thing."

That one thing was Myelodysplastic Syndrome.  MDS is defined as "a rare blood and bone marrow cancer were spongy bone marrow stem cells fail to mature into healthy functional blood cells." It seems that dad had stayed on top of it though and was managing for the past few years with the help of a medication.  We left his home the next day and while in the car  James told me what dad had shared with him the night before.  I called my sister who was also on the road back from his house and we made a plan to call him in a few weeks when we were again together at the lake.  

I remember very clearly sitting on the deck at our lake house that August and calling dad which is something we often did when my sister and I were together.  When we casually asked him about what he had shared with Polly and James he could not change the subject quickly enough.  He told us in no uncertain terms that he was FINE and we just needed to relax.  So being the faithful daughters that we are, we did just that.

Dad spent several days in the hospital last October but was always telling us that he was satisfied with the care he was getting.  He texted us every day and kept telling us he was fine and that he just needed to get his energy and appetite back.  We were relieved that he was not in any pain. He told us that the doctors were running many tests and that he hoped to be feeling better soon.  The last time I spoke with him on the phone while he was in the hospital he was asking me about my family and sharing his concern that his hospitalization might negatively impact our upcoming trip to Florida to see him in November.  He was worried that he might not get down there by our arranged trip/flight date. It honestly never occurred to any of us that he would never get there at all.  In others words, though inconvenient this little health setback was not a big deal. He was scheduled to get a blood transfusion the next day.  Ginny was sending us daily updates from his room and though I was concerned I opted to stay home another week and try to head down to see him and speak with his physicians the next week.  Molly and I planned a trip to Arkansas to go see him in the hospital on Sunday, November 2nd. I was texting him in the late afternoon on Friday, October 31st.  He was gone early the next morning on Saturday, November 1st.  That's All Saints Day to we Catholics.  

The last several hours off his life have since been since pieced together by my sister and I and Ginny.  Through no fault of her own and a series of miscommunications with phone numbers Ginny had no idea he was in acute distress when she arrived at the hospital and found him not in his regular room.  By the time she found him in the ICU they had been administering life saving measures every few minutes because he had a full code status.  None of us had any reason to suspect he would not be back home after his blood transfusion.  After all, we were scheduled to meet him for a long weekend in Florida at his condo.  We were also scheduled to travel with him last July from Barcelona to Rome which was a pinky swear we made on our previous trip to Greece and Italy.

We were on the phone with the nurse as they continued to try and revive him and she had the foresight to tell Molly and I to speak to him (even though he was likely already gone) and so we did.  She held up the phone to his ear and we told him how much we loved him and how it was okay to go on to be with Jesus. I'm so glad she did that.  I really am just so glad. 

The next several days were brutal.  Molly and I and our husbands along with my aunt  made our way to Arkansas and began to plan his funeral along with Ginny.  The definition of surreal is "a situation or experience that feels bizarre, hallucinatory or disconnected."  And that's exactly what those next few weeks felt like.  It was surreal.

We spent lots of time printing and gathering the many photos that could not begin to capture the entirety of his life.  It became rather amusing as we tried to group them in some way that made sense.  Those conversations included comments like "do you want the picture of dad on a camel or in the dessert?  Do you want waterfall dad or dad climbing a bridge?  Do you want dad with us in the lake or dad taking to Tim Allen?  Dad with a bear or dad with a moose?

He lived an amazing life indeed.

In the end we grouped the photos the best we could and Ginny has kept them hung up in their home. 

Several years ago dad had left a list of his funeral wishes with his church.  These included what readings to include as well as who should read them.  It included the song suggestions and other practical things.  Molly and I read the readings he had pre selected, our boys brought up the communion gifts and James created and read his eulogy. Dad was very active in his parish and his funeral mass was celebrated by three priests, one Deacon and the Knights of Columbus Honor guard.  

I was so glad that I was surrounded by my boys during that tearful time.

There were many hidden "God-winks" if you were looking for them.  They include the below in no particular order:

I was praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet for my father while he was in the hospital.  The priest told me that it happens to be the prayer that is prayed for people who are dying.  I had no idea.

In the Catholic Church there are reading assigned to every day.  Dad had chosen his readings for his funeral mass years before.  Those happened to be the very same readings that fell on the calendar for that day!

There are several women's guilds at their church and it just so happened that it was Ginny's guild that was up in the rotation to serve the food after mass.

There was a full moon while we were there for the funeral.  Dad used to text us every time there was a full moon and tell us to go out and look at the "howler."  

The system for live streaming the service had not been working and suddenly switched on successfully right before the funeral.  

Dad attributed some of his success with Caterpillar to his friend Ed Marquis.  After selecting the box for dad's cremains we learned that the one we had chosen was actually called the "Marquis."

Sitting in dad's church you are facing a large window above the altar.  Dad used to tell us that he would look out that window as he was praying.  During his funeral there were eagles flying outside that window. "And he will raise you up on eagles wings...."

The funeral home that Ginny had selected was amazing in its attention to detail.  (A fact my father would have loved.)  They created a poster for everyone to sign that had dad's picture superimposed onto a view of lake Ouachita.  (IYKYK).  They also created a guest book that featured his picture on top of a Caterpillar tractor.  

 

My dad spent the last few weeks of his life in prayer with other members of the faithful in Italy.  Traveling closer to and working on his relationship with God.  I choose to believe the timing of that was no accident.

As so often occurs we received several cards from many people but also one in particular from the man at the funeral home who took care to tell us that he was responsible for cremating dad and that he was respectful and reverent as he took care of handling dad's cremation.  That has always stuck with me. 

There continues to be some guilt on all of our parts for not being with him during his final moments.  However, we recognize that dad was a very private person and likely would not have wanted to have us there.  Nor do we believe that he would have wanted to live compromised in any way.  I firmly believe that he had no intention of leaving us until the angels showed up to take him home.  I honestly believe that is the only reason he went. He saw what was waiting for him and never looked back.  In our reality he would never have wanted to leave Ginny with a huge house in Arkansas, a condo in Florida, several cars and a boat to have to sort out on her own.  Not to mention more upcoming already booked international travel with all of us.   He left because once he saw the next life there was no comparison.  I have a pillow that says "someday everything will make perfect sense."  I choose to believe that is true.

In 1990 dad found his way back to the Catholic Church and wore a necklace with the holy trinity on it to commemorate the day.  He wore it every day and died while wearing it.  I now wear it everyday as part of my daily "uniform."  

I took a screen shot of one of our hospital texts and it is framed in my bedroom.  I sure miss being able to text him.

All Saints Day is a Christian holiday that honors all Christian Saints and martyrs and though my father was neither of those two things I can't help but laugh at him being a "show off" by dying on All Saints Day.  I can just see him taking credit for that.

It's been a long first year without him.  We all still have some very hard days.  I'm not quite sure how people who have no faith get through things like this.  I cannot imagine it.

I recently spent some time up in Minnesota with my aunt.  Minnesota is loaded with my kin as you can't swing a cat without hitting a "Passe."  It was truly good for my soul and I could feel dad there with me.

The night before the funeral I was sobbing as my youngest son held me at the church.  I told him how sad I was that dad would be unable to be at his wedding in May.  Adam just looked at me and said "mom, what makes you think he won't be there?  All of the angels and saints are at church during every mass."  As Adam stood at the altar six months later in May he was wearing my dad's socks, lapel pin and cuff links.  And I'm sure dad really was there.

I'm not sure how the 2nd year without dad will shake out to be.  I know we all miss him tremendously and cannot wait for the time when we get to see him again.  I hope he is one of the angels who comes to get me when it is my time.  

"And he will raise you up, on Eagles wings.

Bear you on the breath of dawn

Make you to shine like the sun

And hold you in the palm of his hand."

That's where my dad is on All Saints Day and every day.......in the palm of HIS hand.  

A tale of two dads on the 4th of July

A year ago James and I travelled down to Arkansas for our annual summer visit to my father’s house on Lake Balboa in Hot Springs Arkansas. My sister Molly and her husband Kevin were with us as well as my aunt.  We participated in the annual lighted boat parade and had such a nice time! We later enjoyed watching the fireworks from the boat. We were also there to celebrate their (dad and Ginny’s) 40th wedding anniversary on July 4th which we did in style with our typical matching celebratory tee shirts.  We ate a lot.  We drank a lot.  We floated a lot.  We had a great time even though it was the first summer I was there without either son.  It was also the first and only summer where I unknowingly hugged my father goodbye for the last time.  God called him suddenly home on the first day of November last year. Last summer he said that he would be happy with any years that he lived passed 80.  He did not quite make it.

During that trip he spontaneously and uncharacteristically crossed the dining room to hug me and say “I just like you so much.”  I carry that memory with me everyday just like I carry his Holy Trinity necklace around my neck everyday.  I loved that 4th of July. I loved him.

The view is a little different this year.  My other dad (my sister likes to refer to him as our “bonus” dad) is lying in a hospital bed after having aortic valve replacement and triple bypass surgery two days ago.  He is 82 years old. The days have been long and not without setbacks but he is still here and with us so far.  He talks about maybe watching the fireworks on tv and I hope he is awake to do so as he is frequently and understandably often asleep.  It’s slow time but I’m trying to value every minute because I now understand what it looks like to live with grief.  I can no longer take the days of having 4 parents for granted.  

So, here I sit on the 5th floor of OSF.  Watching not the fireworks tonight but rather watching him breathe and clutch his heart pillow when he needs to cough.  Appreciating every breath I get to witness.  Appreciating the important gift of time spent together.

“Oh Beautiful, for glory-tale

Of liberating strife

When once and twice for man’s avail

Men lavished precious life” 

My Irish Goodbye

 According to AI, an "Irish goodbye" (or "Irish exit") is the act of leaving a party or social gathering without formally saying goodbye to the host or other guests. Often used to avoid drawn-out, emotional farewells or to bypass awkward social pressure to stay, it is considered a practical, quiet, and increasingly accepted, non-rude, or even polite, way to leave a place.

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I did a “thing” today. 

I quietly slipped out of the office.

After 34 years, I retired.

I also attended my last CMDS faculty meeting.  Give or take ten or so, it was my 918th meeting.  We accomplished a lot in those 73,440 minutes.  For one of those minutes I considered staying another 3 years so that I could hit an even 1000 but that seemed excessive. 

When I was a little girl my grandmother used to call me “instant tears.”  I cried every single time we pulled out of the drive way to their house.  As an adult I would cry as James and I backed out of my parent’s driveway.  I also cry every time my Christmas guests leave (immediately before I take a nap) It was apparent from very early in my life that I am terrible at “goodbyes.”  So, in a completely childish way, I refuse to say it.  It doesn’t feel good and I don’t like it so I simply don’t do it.

I actually had to adopt this “never say goodbye” policy early in my professional career as the world of academia is filled with people arriving and leaving every five months. Give or take another ten or so I have clinically supervised north of 800 students and placed more than 225 interns in their school and medical rotations. If I had to say goodbye to all of those people I would be bed bound and on very heavy medication.  

If you have ever had any sort of relationship with me, the door is always open.  If I had my way, I would stay in touch or in some way connected to everyone I have ever had a relationship with (professional or otherwise).  To those people not in my life I can honestly say it has been by their choice because like I said, I don’t say “goodbye.”

Early on people began to ask me how I wanted to celebrate this milestone and I kept thinking that I didn’t.  After careful consideration of the timing and after some clearly received signs from God that I had been praying for I made the decision that it was time to leave the job that I have mostly loved all of my adult life.  I am laying down the title of “director of clinical education” with very mixed emotions.  James has been counting down for me for months and honestly every time he would announce how many days I had left I got just a little more nauseous.

Hence, my decision to just sort of slip out of the office without the typical fanfare.

I would feel remiss however, if I failed to give a proper nod of genuine thanks to the many individuals that helped to raise me in academia. In no particular order, 

My thanks go to Dr. John Applegate for calling me up on that hot summer day in 1992 and asking me to come and interview for a new job they were creating.  He also taught me how to become comfortable traveling for professional reasons and that I always needed to be able to carry whatever I packed all by myself.  I give him additional thanks for bringing me a flower and card today!

My thanks go to Barb Kline who taught me that it was okay to pray for our students and clients and even okay to keep some Holy Water stashed in my desk drawer for emergencies.

My thanks go to Dr. Paula Cochran who taught me the rules of professional presentations including the importance of matching my outfit with my slides.

My thanks go to the late Dr. Kees Koutstaal for teaching me how to professionally answer a phone (the hard way).

My thanks go to the late Dr. Ken McGuire who taught me that it can make a real difference when you invite a student to go to the union for a chat and a soda.

My thanks go to Dr. Paul Hunt who taught me that men and women think and communicate very differently when it comes to just about everything.

My thanks go to Connie Ikerd for serving as the constant force of super glue that holds a program and clinic together.

My thanks go to Dr. Janet Gooch for teaching me the importance of always having a professional and/or personal goal as it keeps one moving forward.

My thanks go to Dr. Amy Teten for providing such an excellent example of how to lead in a calm and inclusive way. (Just like I knew she would).

My thanks go to Dr. Julia Edgar for her steady and often maternal presence and infectious love of research.

My thanks go to Andrea Richards who went on many adventures with me as my partner in crime including the great phone loss scandal in Macon, zip lining in Mexico and bar hoping at Iron Man in Madison.  Fun fact, she was also the one who completed Alex’s new born hearing screening where they both ended up in a PR piece for the hospital.  That now hangs in Alex’s room.

My thanks go to Dr. Megan Batzer who can brighten any space with just a smile and who  models gratitude in a beautiful way.  

My thanks go to Jillian Pulis and Samantha Bishop for carrying the department forward with new energy.

My thanks go to Dr. Ilene Elmlinger who carried me through many days and nights in the “dark and twisty” places and who made me genuinely laugh out loud every. single. day.

My thanks go to Trish Hanson for serving as my go-to phono person for every single student I ever sent her way.  She also gets my sincerest thanks for supervising Adam for many years to get him to an above grade reading level with his dyslexia.

My thanks go to all of the professional colleagues who believed in me enough to take a chance on me at ASHA and MSHA as I tried my hand at professional leadership.  I learned a ton and had the time of my life.

My thanks go to Todd Philbrick and Gretchen Ehret Hoshaw at ASHA for always answering my “cry for help” texts and for being great humans and personal friends.

My thanks go to every prayer partner in my life who have prayed when called upon whenever I was having trouble getting a placement.  Your prayers worked!  I was able to get everyone their clock hours (mostly) on time including during COVID!

Finally, my deepest thanks go to the countless students over the years who taught me much more than I gave them.  Thank you for your kindness, your patience with my tangents and your beautiful willingness to learn from me. You can message me anytime and I will still try and get you an answer.

I’m not going anywhere.  James will continue to work until he feels his “Mary Immaculate Mission” has been completed.  (And actually, I need to thank him as well.  He held the house and boys together for many years as I traveled professionally, always provided a willing ear every time I came home with a another clinic crisis and is the only reason I can afford to retire at this age due to him now carrying me on his health insurance. I thank him also for the beautiful (purple) flowers that he sent today. He too gets my many thanks.)

I’m not leaving the field and may even have a few more professional volunteer leadership roles left in me.  I plan to continue to provide home health services locally and taking students as I do.  I am also fairly certain I will continue to find ways to provide clinical instruction in one way or another.

One of these days a few of us that are still around will meet for a happy hour someplace where we will raise a glass to a job that I hope was mostly well done.  But it wont be to say goodbye. It will never be to say goodbye.

So, for now, I will close in my typical semesterly way.  I will see you at the graduation luncheon tomorrow.  I will see you next week at the hooding.  I will see you next year at MSHA.  I will see you very soon.

The Auction

 James and I have lived in the same house in the same neighborhood for most of our married life.  We used to call this middle class neighborhood “teacher ville” because like ourselves so many of us were involved in teaching or education in one way or another.  Our neighbors across the street were no different.  

When we first moved in we had an elderly set of neighbors across the street (in all actuality they were probably our age at the time but younger people have a funny way of looking at age until they look around realize they are indeed the new “older couple.”  But that takes time and I digress….)

For the sake of privacy I will refer to the couple as June and Jerry.  

By the time we moved in June and Jerry had been retired from teaching for a number of years. Their children were grown and gone and it was just them.  I have never actually even met the children as they either did not seem to visit very often or they did and I was busy raising my own boys.  Nevertheless, I could not pick them out of a crowd.

June and Jerry had a number of retirement hobbies.  They were very active in a bicycle club, enjoyed hiking and long walks and June even took up the ukulele and played with our local ukulele club (yes, we have one of those and no I am not a member).  

To describe the yard one would have to say that the couple took a “naturalistic” approach focusing on sustainability, biodiversity and year round dense plant population.  To the untrained eye like mine, it mostly just looked over grown and un kept.  You say potayto and I say potahto.  The view was never my favorite but being respectful neighbors we never mentioned the view from our windows to June and Jerry.  It was their house.  Their corner of the world so to speak and they had the right to “landscape” it any way they wanted.  And so it went for years and years.

As tends to happen in life, Jerry grew older and died several years ago.  June continued living in the marital home for several years past that time.  She continued her “yard work” and took daily walks all around the neighborhood.  She did not go as far but she still went. Having knees that were not as limber as they once were, and fingers that no longer cooperated their bicycles and her ukulele sat untouched in the house and garage.  

A few years ago June was diagnosed with cancer and was recently placed in a skilled nursing facility to receive the care she needed.  She never returned back home.

Last fall we watched as some people (her family?) stopped by and cut back some of the now really overgrown brush in the yard.   The view had finally changed but I was used to it the other way and I noticed not with the excitement I would have once predicted.

This morning, an auctioneer’s truck and trailer pulled up into their front yard and strangers filled their lawn.  Soon after the auctioneer began his bid calling and item by item, pieces of June and Jerry’s lives were auctioned off.  Their bicycles, a spice rack, a lava lamp, corning ware, a typewriter, a jar of marbles and her ukulele were amongst the possessions that were auctioned up. And finally, the house itself.  How many times had James and I talked about buying that house and re-landscaping the yard to better suit what we would have preferred our view to be?  In the end, James was not home and I watched the auction silently from our son’s bedroom window across the street.  

I watched as the couples entire lives were on the auction block.  Their home.  It’s furnishings.  Their keepsakes.  The items needed for their retirement hobbies.  Everything.

And it struck me in a very melancholy kind of way.  Perhaps it just hits differently after having recently lost my father.  I’m not really sure. All I know is that something happened across the street today and I felt the need to honor it in some way.  I felt the need to let June and Jerry know that someone noticed.  That someone silently honored the lives they had built.  That someone will mourn them as neighbors and friends.  

It’s 2026 and I’m still here.

 When I awoke this morning I found that we had entered another year.  I had no control over it.  It just happened.  It would be the first day of the first year that I lived on the earth without my earthly father holding living space on the planet as well.  How can that be true?  The year 2025 was actually a very nice year……..until it suddenly wasn’t.

James and I began the year in Chicago with Alex and Kelsey.  Kelsey and I saw Les Mis and Alex and James had fun at the winter classic.  We ate at some nice restaurants and welcomed in the new year in style. 

 

 

Alex continued to serve as the father of an orange cat and he acquired his first pinball machine which he proudly stores at the house of mom and dad since he and Kelsey currently move around so much.  

 

 

Alex continues to work for Alberici.  When his project in Ontario wrapped up he spent a few months on a project in Wichita KS and is now in Wentzville, MO for a few more weeks.  He will soon move to Lafayette Louisiana where he will begin an autonomous boat building project.  It gives me the perfect excuse to attend Mardi Gras in 2027 and cross that off the bucket list.

Speaking of Mardi Gras, James and I attended the annual Mary Immaculate fundraiser in February with a Mardi Gras theme.  One of the auction items was for Principal Hendler to kiss a pig which I happily provided a bid for.  

 

In March we had fun boating and celebrating my mom’s 80th birthday in Florida.  We also celebrated James birthday.

 

In April I attended a women’s retreat at my church, celebrated Easter with 

Adam and Lea and attended the first communion of my Goddaughter Eva. I also had fun at MSHA where we took home the “cup” from the Quest for the Cup competition.

 

In May we celebrated with Adam as he graduated with Honors from the University of Central Missouri.  His degree is in cybersecurity.  It also worked out that I got to spend Mother’s Day with both boys.

Following graduation James and I snuck off to Branson for a few days to celebrate the launching of our 2nd son.

In June we celebrated Adam’s 21st birthday and my birthday at Disney and were so happy that the kids could all join us. 

 

While at Disney Adam proposed to Lea and she said yes!

In July we celebrated dad and Ginny’s 40th wedding anniversary at their lake home in Arkansas.  It was to be the last time I saw my dad alive and in person.  We had no idea at the time.  How naïve the pre-grief me was.

We spent the rest of the summer relaxing at the lake and in the condo.

We attended several weddings this year.

While at one of the weddings we got to snap a pic of James with every sibling.  (That never happens) 

We enjoyed attending a tea party bridal shower for Claire and Adam had fun serving as Luke’s best man.  

We were blessed to spend some time with friends this year.

And then I woke up on the morning of  November 1st.  All Saints Day.  I was awakened just in time to say goodbye to my dad on the phone from my bed in Missouri as he quietly slipped away in Arkansas.  That’s when the world as I knew it completely changed.  

To say that this wasn’t supposed to happen is an understatement of such depth that it barely fits the sentiment.  We had plans.  Lots of them.  At some point I will write about the event itself because some truly remarkable things happened during that week. But that day is not today.  Today I am still blindly feeling my way through the world with out one of my parents.  This new world.  This “other” world. A world I did not sign up for and one I am not pleased to travel within.  We gathered. We cried. Collectively we tried to say goodbye in a way that would make him proud.  

Today I continue to quietly make my way through a prolonged fog of icky grief.

Thanksgiving came and went.  It was the first time in 25 years that we did not have either boy with us.

In early December we spent a weekend in St. Louis with Alex and Kelsey doing “Christmassy” things.  We tried to escape the grief but she came right along with us.  

Also in December we went back to Warrensburg to celebrate Lea’s graduation.

That brings us to the past week.  We hosted Christmas with LOTS of help from family.  It’s hard to do when crawling through the sludge of messy grief.  It took the whole village to get it done. We invited Father Joe and Father Boniface. We took some pictures and I smiled because that is what you are supposed to do.   We all did.  We smiled.  I hope that dad can see how hard we are all trying. 

These days I am doing well to get one thing accomplished each day.  The only thing I wanted to get done today was to get this written and out there.  I feel proud to have accomplished that.  It’s not comprehensive.  I have left some things out in the summary of our year.  There are gobs more pics that I could include, the spacing is all off and I am not even bothering to poof read it but this is the best I have in me at the moment.  I have almost made it though day 1 of the year 2026.  I am proud of that too.

Praying for all of us as we enter this next year.  Praying for health, happiness and peace for each of you.