I was sitting in a staff meeting at work on Tuesday morning when Dave texted me that I needed to come as soon as possible.  I knew this day would come inevitably. My boss told me I needed to leave so I booked an emergency flight, made arrangements with Janet, and then flew to Kansas City.  Mother and Dad had both moved into the apartment at John Knox Village since my last visit. This gave Dad full access to the medical facilities, including hospice. Dave told me that Sunday he’d fallen on his way back to bed from the bathroom, and told Mother she needed to get help for him. They pulled the emergency cord in the bathroom for medical assistance. He was transported across the complex to the hospice room where I now stood looking at him in his labored breathing state. Dave had been over many times since Sunday night and had hear his last intelligible words spoken on Monday. But his agitated state was over, and now it was time to wait. The hospice attendants told us it could be a few days so we took turns visiting and checking on him. Mother and I sat together all day Thursday talking and reminiscing. Dave came in the evenings after he’d left work.  Dad’s brothers and sisters came in and out many times through the week. On Friday night, Dave, Mother, and I ordered dinner and sat in his room listening to him breathe. We told stories of the cross country vacations. We laughed about the rock piles, and lumber piles, and any other piles he had the two of us moving from one part of the yard to the other. We sang some of his favorite Simon and Garfunkle, Elvis, or Tex Ritter songs. Finally around 9:30 we went back to our homes to rest for the night.

I woke around 5:30 in the morning and got ready to go to the hospice. When I arrived, Dad’s sisters were there and informed me he’d passed a mere fifteen minutes before. They’d come after we left and sat with him through the night. I called Mother and Dave and we began working with the funeral home to take care of all the arrangements. Aunt Geneva, Karen, and Vicky took care of notifying the remainder of the family. An hour later, Dad was rolled out of the building with a flag draped over his body as was their practice for all veterans. Mother, Dave, and I went to her special restaurant to have breakfast and collect our thoughts before proceeding to the funeral home to complete the funeral arrangements.

I called Janet, and she arrived mid-day on Saturday. The remainder of the week was filled with meetings and greetings as we prepared for the visitation on Tuesday and service on Wednesday. Dad had asked that Erik, Addie and me play and sing It is Well for the service. Dave and I both spoke, remembering the positive aspects of his life. Mother’s sister, Shirley, was an angel of mercy staying with her for the days surrounding the wake. My district sent flowers to the funeral, for which I was truly grateful. We spent a few more days with family and visiting a real zoo before flying home on Saturday.

Dad taught me the art of sightseeing. He coined a phrase for our family, “typical American tourists.”  Dad liked to prepare, but didn’t care to plan like I do. He’d send away to the Montgomery Wards auto club for a pre-planned travel packet that included highway maps highlighted to our destination. The packet included lodging and meal suggestions as well.  Dad rarely abided these suggestions as he liked to stay in KOA camps and make peanut butter, cheese, and onion sandwiches. We also took lots and lots of pictures. Guess I learned that from him too.  Dad didn’t care for the cities like I do. He was much more comfortable seeing the scenic America than the urban America. But many times I find myself visiting the same types of out of the way niche attractions he did.

He never wanted to be a burden to us as he knew the end was near. He went quickly and quietly which was just how he wanted it. I’m proud to be your son Dad, and I’ll keep living every day like a tourist no matter where I live.

Allan Neal Dancy

1940-2016

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” – Helen Keller