Happy Birthday Dad

Happy Birthday Dad!  It is just incredibly unbelievable that you are not here for it. 

Love you,

Wendy

December 3

The approaching holidays have me a bit apprehensive.  It will be the first in 11 years that I will not celebrate with Denny.  So I thought about what I could do to keep busy and share with others.  I decided in September that I would find a group to sing with and at least get a little joy out of the season.  It so happens that the first concert will be on December 3, Denny’s birthday.  I thought that might be difficult but then someone said to me that I could dedicate it to him in my heart.  I have also been given the solo for Silent Night.  That makes it even more sweet or “saweet!” as he would say.  So those of you who are attending that concert, please send all the support to me that you can.  I promise to make it as beautiful as I can.  I’m counting on him being there to hear it too….

Becky

 

 

Finally!

Jason let me sleep in this morning, and it's a good thing he did or I would have missed seeing Dad. I was having a strange dream that ended up at dad's house (there was a boat, and a line of his cars strung together, and other very weird stuff) and I think all of us kids were there. In the dream I was totally ticked about what was going on, and I was feeling a bit helpless. That's when Dad walked up. I was so surprised to see him, and he and I both knew that he was dead, but it didn't seem to matter, and he and asked what was going on. I told him, and assuming he'd be ticked, he just looked at me, said, "huh". As in, "that's interesting, but it doesn't upset me." I stopped, looked at him, told him that I really, really missed him, and he said he knew. I then grabbed him and gave him a really big hug, telling him I missed him and that I loved him. He said, "I lived a good life, and you did too." I was confused at the past tense, but also kinda relieved that he seemed to know that everything would be o.k.

It was at this point in the dream that it was way too real, and my stupid head took over, told me I must be dreaming, and I woke up. I was a bit shocked but very happy that I got to give him a big hug, and super sad. I haven't been able to shake it all morning.

I think that with everything that has gone in this year, and with Thanksgiving being a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, maybe he felt like I needed a short visit. I did. I feel like I actually got to give my Dad a hug this morning. I mean, I actually felt the scratchy whiskers on his cheek rub my cheek. I haven't given anyone a hug yet today cause I don't want to lose that feeling that he was the last person I hugged.

Oh, and he looked just like the picture the to the right, but with no mustache and he was wearing almost the same thing. A white shirt under a denim shirt.

This was my first "visit" from Dad. It was a good one.

Got Dad on my mind. . .

That's interesting, Craig, because I've had so many dad dream visits lately, too.  Like you, I always know that he is gone and that what I'm seeing is his ghost/spirit.  He is always calm and happy and shows me that genuine, sparkly smile when I hug him.  I don't know what's got him in my mind lately, but it's been several weeks now.

Candy, I really really enjoyed reading what has been on your mind about my dad.  I'm glad you made yourself share.  I have loved hearing from siblings about our dad, but it's extra fun to hear from people outside our house.  He was different with you guys, and in some ways it seems you got the best he had to offer.  For all his scariness there was such a compassionate side, too.  It's great to hear about it.

I am still not quite willing to accept this travesty, by the way.  I have a very difficult time speaking of him in the past tense.  It isn't right.  I maintain that this got botched along the way and I would like to kick the universe square in the balls for it.  My head tells me all the right things-- all about realism and eternity and acceptance, but my heart just won't get there.

~Wendy

MY Unca Doom...

When I was a child I was terrified of my Uncle Denny. He was always demanding, grouchy, and just plain mean...He would keep the family dog, Benny, tied up out side all day long. He would yell at the slightest thing. He even threatened to kill my pet dog Laddie when she bit Jen's ear....(Laddie had been injured and we were told not to touch her by my mom, but Jenny and I walked her over to the vacant lot any way)...I'm sorry by the way Jen! She was such a sweet dog, I had no idea she could hurt anyone! What a scary and traumatic incident that was to see my cousin bleeding profusely from the side of her head. Then to have my scary uncle yelling and threatening that he was going home to get his gun and shoot my beloved pet was too much for a young child to process...

 

It wasn't until I was 9 years old that I thought my uncle might have a soul...My mom, dad, older brother, older sister, Nana, and Papa were all up in the mountains at Boreal Ski lifts skiing for the day and the younger siblings were being babysat by Erin Burt. I was outside playing when my neighbor friend Aaron Allison came over on his bike. He asked if I wanted to go ride with him. I looked for Bobby's bike that he had hidden before he left. (I still swear to this day that he told me that if I found his bike I could ride it...He says that he said if I found his bike NOT to ride it) Around 2:30 or 3pm We rode up Bille Rd. to the Turner's house and played with their bunnies. When we left Robbie Shaw's dog Max had followed us, so on the way back I was worried that Max would get killed by a car. I remember Aaron crossing Bille first, and Max after him. I watched to make sure he crossed safely. Once he was across I followed on my bike. I didn't even see the Fluffy Foot Carpet van come up over the hill toward me. The next thing I knew I was in Chico at Enloe hospital hooked up to tubes and hearing my mom and the doctor talking about how I would likely be needing much care, and that I would be hospitalized for about 2 months. After the dr. left the room my mom explained to me what had happened. After I was hit, Jenny Walton saw me laying on the street with a pool of blood around my head, and ran told Erin that I was dead. Everyone thought that I was already dead. The ambulance rushed me to Feather River where the ER dr. said that they didn't think that they were going to be able to keep me alive that my best chance to live was to get to Enloe's Trauma unit. My uncles Denny and Ric met me at Feather River and gave me a Priesthood blessing. I have always been a very strong believer in the power of prayer. They put me back in the ambulance (Denny rode with me, so I was told) and sent me to Chico. I believe Denny stayed at the hospital with me until my mom returned from the mountains and relieved him. That first night I slept a lot only waking for a few groggy minutes at a time. I remember a young teenage girl in the same room as me that was paralyzed from the neck down. They put me with her so that my mom could get used to the inevitable...I was going to be a vegetable...paralyzed from the neck down because of the damage done to my neck. It was Thursday afternoon that I was hit, and I believe through the miracle of prayer, I left the hospital 3 days later on Sunday morning, able to walk, and had no spinal damage, broken bones, or any lasting injuries.

 

Time went by and I didn't see my uncle a whole lot for a while. Then I hit my teenage years...I was quite the handful for my mom and my very sick dad. Denny would step in and have talks with me. He seemed to be a kindred spirit...He had been a handful for his parents when he was my age, and could relate to me. He didn't yell at me or even get angry when I would do stupid things like smoke cigs or party til I was puking...He would tell me of trouble he would get into, and tell me how he was able to change his ways. As a teenager I liked danger and living on the edge, and Denny, My "Unca Doom" was right there living with me... He would show up out of the blue and take me for a ride on his motorcycle. He would talk to me about things he liked and things that bothered him. He would listen to me and give me fatherly advice when I needed a dad. When I had divorced Jim, Denny and I did a lot of things together, we even went to singles activities together. We had our own inside jokes, and even outwardly jokes that I know made Jenny and Becky uncomfortable sometimes.  He Is my Favorite and Closest Uncle. And I knew that even with my sisters creeping in on his good side I always was his favorite niece!

 

My life is not the same without Uncle Denny. I miss him! I miss My dad all the more now, too. I started writing this shortly after the funeral, but every time I add anything to it I cry so hard that I can't even see the screen anymore. Happening now too, so I'm going to go ahead and close this and share it with you...Finally.

I love you all, and I'm grateful to have you in  my life, even if we're not as close as I wish we could be.

 

 

 

      Candy

  916-897-4888

 

Response to Craig's Post

Craig, your post reminded me of a couple of things. The first is that it sounds like "visits" I've had from Nana, and also my friend's son (died when he was 19 month old) that I saw as a 20 year old, but knew who he was.
The other thing it reminded me of is the first time I went to see your dad at UCSF after the cancer came back, he told me that he had seen himself doing work on the other side. He said that he knew Heavenly Father needed him on the other side and that he was ready to go. He of course did more treatments, and fought a little longer after that, but I truly believe that your dad has been "visiting" you and that it's not "just" dreams.
 Candy 

Only In Dreams

I've been having a bunch of dreams lately with Dad in them, which makes me really happy. They are short, but sweet. And every time it happens I quickly realize I'm dreaming and hurry up and hug him. I can actually feel his big sturdy body. He's always happy, smiling, and seems to know what's going on. I love it. The funny thing is that while I'm awake I can still only remember Dad looking like he did at the end; bald, thin, and sick. But when I'm asleep he's always younger and filled-out. These meetings are more than just dreams... I feel like it's a real visit from him.

-Craig

Yes, but...

So recently I attended my 20 year high school reunion where I was able to get together with some of my really good friends from childhood. It was great to see them but when the inevitable topic of dad came up, it was somewhat difficult. Some who didn't know me or my personal drama at home were very sympathetic and offered their condolances. But, for those that knew me well and knew what happened behind the scenes, they had a much harder time figuring out what to say. It mainly went something like this: "Sorry to hear about your dad, but I just remember how mean he was to you guys." That usually came from the mouths of my friends who had spent some time at my house and felt and saw and heard enough that they NEVER came back. We remained friends and I understood why they didn't want to spend much time there. But that gives me great conflict.

I truly appreciate how protective they were and are of me and how much they cared about how I and my siblings were treated. But my first reaction is to say But! But you have no idea of the great things he did! You have no idea how truly funny and silly he was. You have no idea of the hilariously inappropriate and unconventional things he did as a dad with us kids. Did YOUR dad ever wear his underwear on his head and chase you around the house? Did he ever fart in the truck then roll up the windows and laugh his head off while you gagged and choked? Did he ever send paper airplanes engulfed in flames off the deck? Did he ever lure a family of racoons into your living room with lunch meat while the entire family sat there in silence and shock? Did he ever let you drive his restored pick up truck home from Butte College? Did he take you on a trail ride on a draft horse?!

My dad's bad was bad. But his good was great! For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Right? I'm sorry my friends only remember the bad. That was probably my fault being a dramatic teenager and all. You tend to focus on the negative.

Dad, I'm sorry I didn't focus more on the positive, great stuff you did. I'm sorry my friends didn't know how wonderful you were. I'm glad you were my dad and I remember and I'll never forget you or how much you loved me.

Jen

Dad's Look-A-Like

I met with this guy today at a jobsite and it blew me away how much he reminded me of dad (shortly after chemo started when he went bald and lost a lot weight). I told him this and asked to take his picture. He was so sweet and said, "Anytime you miss your dad, you come visit me."

I could have stayed and talked to him all day. He was of Russian/Spanish/Israeli decent, name of Yosef Merhav, and had a spanish accent that, to me, sounded middle eastern or possibly russian. Made me happy and sad to look at him. I shook his hand, but really just wanted to give him a hug!!! Weird, huh?

Jen

Denny in the "Promised Land"

Dear Family and friends,

I found some things in my file of Denny's letters that some of you may not have seen or heard before. I am going to share some of them. They are as he wrote them.

Sunday the 18th (of October, 1970)

Dear Mom, Dad & Rick,

I hope you enjoy the "scripture' half as much as I did when I wrote it. I wrote it about myself. Read it with one grain of salt  and two pounds of humor.

I've found out that there is more to being M Men and Gleaner class president than meets the naked eyeball. it's a lot of fun.

I'm doing fine and having fun. Thanks a lot for all of your help and efforts. They weren't in vain.

Talk to you later, like maybe the next Sat or Sun.

Love, Denny

PS     I wrote the "scripture" more or less with Dad in mind 'cause I know how he's going to laugh himself silly.


And it came to pass there was an individual in the promised  land, and he was one who always sitteth through the sermons.  Yea, and there was evil and wrong doing which breedeth and burneth within his bod, from his toenail to the topeth of his pointed little head.

And lo, his heart and soul became hardened in the ways of unrighteousness, like unto rock candy.  Yea, and he did have arthritis and he was truly a stiff necked sinner, and a man of the world.

And it came to pass, that he passeth out of the promised land, and lo, he did settle in one small place, and behold he was surrounded by many waters, and he was West of the promised land, and he dwelt in the land of sin and iniquity for many sabbaths.

Verily, the sun shineth and setteth on this land of iniquity. And he tooketh part diligently in the sins of the people.

And lo and behold, one fine day he did waketh up from his iniquitous ways, and lo, he did see the straight and narrow path before him. And behold, he did become exceedingly frightened within his heart, that he would fall from the narrow path into a gutter and would therefore bust his butt into many small pieces.

Nevertheless, he did putteth his size nine and a half D onto this path and thus began the journey upward and onward.

And it came to pass, that he did not falleth from the pathway, for he did weareth his combat boots. And behold he repenteth many times for his sinful ways, yea, and he did mend his wrong doings.  Yea, he did gird about his loins and weareth the armor of truth and righteous, and his boots, forever after.  Amen.

Denny

Papa

3 Months

Last Friday Dad's headstone was finally placed on his grave. Becky and I went that evening to see and to visit. I was very sad to see it there as it's so final and so heartbreaking to see his name and the dates on a plaque in a cemetery. Unbelievable. But I'm also glad that this final step is done. It was the last loose end that needed to be wrapped up in this process of losing a loved one.

He has been gone for 3 months today. The grief is getting a bit easier day to day, but it still seems to jump out of nowhere, wrap it's devastating fingers tightly around my heart and send me straight into a crying fit for a short while. When it gets to the point that I can't stop thinking about him, I go to the cemetery for a visit and a chat. It seems to help.

Jen

A Story

When I about 14 years old, I accompanied my mother to the Mayfair Market, a mile or so from our house. When we exited the store, there were fire trucks with lights and sirens driving by.  I said, “Wouldn’t that be funny if they were going to our house?”  (I didn’t mean funny Ha Ha, more like funny peculiar)  What a surprise when we saw them turn down the streets towards our house.  When we rounded the final corner, there they were in front of our house.  (You know you always think even then, that they must be at the next door neighbors house, not yours.)

When we got there the Fire chief told  my mother that the walnut tree in the back yard had a fire.  (That’s the tree with the tree house in it.)  My brother, Denny, told the firemen that his crystal radio started the fire.  (There is no electricity or batteries in a crystal radio and NO power of any kind in the tree house.)  The Fire Chief told my parents that he found dried walnut leaves rolled up in newspaper for smoking and that’s what started the fire.

- Karen

Happy Fathers Day

Happy Father’s Day – What a great group.

Not sure where this picture was taken, but it was in 1983, since Vicki is a baby. 

Love y’all.  Mom

To

This tiny little word pisses me off lately. It's so final. Birthdate to Deathdate. Look at it! So arrogant and smug! So powerful! It's like it had some responsibility in determining the day that Dad and anyone else would die.

A lifetime of happiness, sadness, joy, heartache, accomplishments, failures, marriage, children, etc. all summed up in two little letters. That's a life between those two dates. The word "to" just doesn't do it justice. I'm not sure what should be there instead, but a dash doesn't seem to make me so angry.

A dash lets you wonder wonder what happened between those two dates, it's very open minded and doesn't judge. It allows the friends and family left behind to place some memories there and feel as if they are still a part of the life of the person who has moved on.

So I'm requesting that when I die, you please use a dash. I'm not giving that nasty little word any more notches on it's bedpost.

Jen
(I realize that I must be angry at something else entirely, but I'm not sure what that is, so this is what you get!)

Can I just try again, please?

I'm not the type to give up easily.  I have remarkable patience for frustrating little games.  It took me days and days to accurately follow the instructions to solve a Rubik's cube, but I did it.  When I had my first natural birth and I didn't glide through gracefully like I had imagined, I had to try again-- the 2nd time was a great experience.  I don't throw in the towel.  I try again.

The past four years between me and Dad were almost entirely silent.  I was unhappy with the situation but I didn't know how to proceed so I did nothing.  I was uncomfortable talking to him when I learned he had cancer, and only called a few times.  I ignored the nagging feeling urging me to reconcile and find a way to be helpful and supportive.  I reasoned that I had my hands full with 5 small kids and was 800 miles away anyway.  I waited too long to write some important things down in a letter and he didn't have the stamina to read through it.

Can I please try again?  I can see how thoroughly I botched this thing and if I could just take another crack at it I'm confident I would knock it out of the park.  Who's running this operation anyway?  Give me a minute and I'll talk my way into another chance.  I'm good like that.

I need to try again.  I'll do it better, I promise.

Dad, I'm sorry.  I am sincerely and terribly sorry for us both. . .

-Wendy

The Mechanic

June 4, 2011

THE MECHANIC  cont.

We had moved to the San Fernando Valley in the fall of 1959. It was much more like being in the country. People had large lots where they could have animals and it was a more laid back style of living. Denny had long since given up his beloved tricycle in favor of a real two wheeler. He had earned the money on his own by doing odds and ends of chores, and bought the bike with his own money. Obviously, he eventually broke it, took it apart, fixed it, broke it again, fixed it again, etc., etc. By the time he was just barely ten, he had become bored with the bike and wanted something a little more meaningful, a little more advanced, a little more challenging, if you will.

He bargained with his mom and me for a motor scooter. The deal was that if he could come up with one half of the money by selling his bike and/or working for it, we would pay the other half. The deal was done and it seemed like no time at all before Denny came up with his share of the scooter. His mom and I had to struggle a little harder. We soon found an old "Cushman" motor scooter, if I remember right. Denny tore into that thing with a vengance and got it running pretty good too.

Remember I said that the lots where we now lived were big? Ours wasn't very wide; only 72 feet, but it was very long, 517 feet. As part of the "Deal" Denny couldn't ride the scooter on the street. However, behind the house and immediate back yard was the rest of the lot; about four hundred feet. Denny cleared the weeds and any other debris from the entire perimeter by the fence and that 950 foot rectangular length became his test track and his personal race track. You should have seen him go around that track. He scared the crap out of his mom and me, so we just had to quit watching.

STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF "THE MECHANIC"

Papa

Someday I'll be able to share some of the Great stories I have of Uncle Denny...

I get on here time after time with the thought that I'll leave a funny up-lifting story about the uncle I am closest to...My Uncle Doom...I loved his dangerous side, it matched so well with mine...However everytime I get on I read, and cry, and hurt...I didn't visit him or talk to him enough in this last year...I couldn't imagine him not being here for me to make more contact with when he was better. I thought that giving hhim space to get better would help, yet now I think that all it did was rob myself of the little time I really had left with him...

I know that Denny and I had such a great friendship as welll as being Uncle and Neice. I have to go...I can't see through all the water pouring from my eyes.

I love you all and am so grateful to you guys for keeping the memories alive!  

 

      Candy

 

"I need a board..."

During one of dad's last visits to UCSF, Becky, Kimmie, Candy and I were in his room with him, and he declared that he needed a board. We said, 'huh'? A board? For what? He said, "just listen".

And then very slowly but very seriously he said, "I need a board, about this big by this big" as he used his hands to describe a board about as big as your lap. "It needs to have a hole, right about here" as he draws with his finger a little hole in the upper right hand corner of the board a bit bigger than a quarter. Then he pauses, a bit too long, and we swear he either fell asleep or can't remember what he was about to say, then starts in again with "then, when somebody comes in, I can put my hand here, just like this" and with his left hand, he slowly bends the fingers of his right hand into his palm except for the middle one, which he leaves sticking straight up. He lays his hand down on the board, and says, "There. Just like that" and grins at us as if he just thought up the most ingenious thing ever.

We cracked up at the bizarre ending to the story and we're still not sure to this day whether he was trying to distract us with the 'I need a board' start, or if he was just really loopy and to his muddled mind this made all the sense in the world! Either way it was hilarious, and now anytime one of us makes a smart ass remark, all we have to say is, "I need a board" and we all start laughing again!

Tribute

Rob Deckman, our newest neighbor, loved Denny so much because of all the wonderful things he did for Rob and his family.  He welcomed Rob and his family by feeding them and giving them special names.  Rob is Mr. R. Deckman, Ava, his wife, is M.R.S. Deckman,  his son Justin is Mr. J Deckman and the twin girls, Brittney and Brianna were dubbed the double Deckmans.  So, when Denny passed away, he wanted to do something special for him.  This remembrance plaque is on the bench in his yard. 
Becky 

Denny's First Fight

It was about the same time that Denny started in school that he began having trouble with the neighborhood kids - the Berrys. They were always picking on Denny on the way home from school. We had told Denny we didn't want him to be fighting with anybody and to try to make friends with them. D J, the bigger of the two, was usually the instigator of all the trouble and wasn't about to be friends with anyone he could push around. This went on for some time and Denny, try as he did, could not avoid DJ. He told us that he was tired of getting beat up and not being able to fight back. We had had about enough too and told Denny that the next day he could fight back; just get D J in front of our house before he started so we could see that it was fair and that he didn't get ganged up on. Let the fight begin!!

And begin it did. Denny CLEANED D J'S CLOCK. D J  went home and told his mother that Denny Tovey beat him up. Mrs. Berry came up to our house and called Nana out to the sidewalk and started pushing her around. when Mrs Berry tore the front of Nana's blouse off, Nana had had enough also. She slugged her in the face and knocked her on her a_ _ . End of fight.

The next thing we knew we were summoned to the District Attorney's office to answer a complaint. Mrs. Berry told her story showing her black eye and Nana answered with her story showing her torn blouse. The D. A. dismissed the complaint. That was not quite the end of the problem. The kids started throwing rotten apples on our porch. One day I caught one of them doing it and chased him around the corner and into his grammpa's barbershop. I was standing in the doorway. I smiled at the barber and said, "We need to have a talk about your grandson."  Without a word he stepped forward and with his right foot sent a kick toward my crotch. I stepped back far enough so the kick didn't land and when his leg was to the end of the kick I caught his heel and yanked up hard dumping him right on his a _ _  on the barbershop floor. That was the end of Denny's problems with the Berry family.

Papa

One match fire

Denny liked to build fires as you all know.  He had a certain way of building one in the fireplace that would light up with one match.  He’d put a layer of wadded up newspaper in the grate then layer the kindling, then the logs to burn.  He was very specific about this.  It wouldn’t work any other way.  And he was usually right. 

Saturday was an especially cold day and I decided to light a fire in the fireplace instead of turning on the heater.  We had thrown a lot of old mail and other papers in there to burn when we got to it.  I didn’t want to spend the time wadding up newspaper and just decided to lay the kindling and then the split logs on.  Then, I got the lighter and started the fire.  I thought that because I didn’t do it the “Denny way” that it wouldn’t work.  To my surprise, it lit up perfectly!  Just like the one match fire we always built.  In a matter of minutes I had a blazing fire.  It really surprised me.  Then I thought, “I had help with this one.”  Thank you Denny. 

Rebecca Tovey

The Grass Is Always Greener

Went to the cemetery tonight for a visit. I brought along with me 4 gallons of water and a bag of Miracle Grow Powder. I mixed up the pretty blue concoction and watered dad's grass. I'm hoping it will help it green up a bit faster. The sod they laid back down all died and has just made visiting a bit extra depressing. This week green grass has finally started to shoot up, but not fast enough for me!

Becky met me there and we spent quite a while talking and wandering around the cemetery until it got dark. It's nice to visit sometimes. Feels like you're kinda with him for a moment.

We saw that some of the Veterans head stones had arrived for those vets that passed away in February and March, so we're hoping dad's comes in in the next couple of weeks. Becky is going to call to find out if they'll let us know when they'll put it in. We'd like to be there when the cement around the marker is wet to maybe write something in it.

We'll take pictures when it's in to post here on the blog.

What A Great Laugh

The last couple of days I have been laughing myself silly over a cake that my sister made that was not quite the masterpiece she intended it to be. It looked so terrible that I laughed so hard I couldn't speak or breathe and every time I retell the story I laugh just as hard.

It's that no-sound-hoarse-can't-breathe-tears-streaming-down-your-face-doubled-over-kinda laughter that my dad was so great at. He was a great story teller, and when he found something that was truly funny, he laughed this hard every time he repeated it. If you were listening to him tell that story, you too would start to laugh. He was so funny to watch and to listen to! This super tough, usually cranky kinda guy who all the sudden is giggling, then downright cracking up while wiping tears off his face and attempting to finish the story in this squeaky, high pitched voice was really something to watch.

I remember him and I laughing this hard one time in church. Yep, that's right, in the middle of Sacrament Meeting. He and I were sitting next to each other somewhat listening to the speaker. They said something that made my dad and I look at each other and start to silently giggle. I can't remember what it was that we thought was so funny, but it was just he and I that seemed to get the joke. Then the speaker said something else along the same lines, and he and I totally lost it. We were both bending over trying to conceal our faces, laughing that silent laugh as hard as we could. We both were wiping away the tears trying not to be the first one to take a breath and start howling out loud. We must have been making enough noise, because the people sitting in front of us turned around to look to see what was going on. Then mom noticed. She whipped her head around and glared at us, mortified that we would be acting so inappropriate in the middle of church!! We eventually controlled ourselves without either of us actually making a sound out loud. We pretty much avoided looking at each other though cause every time we did, we started to giggle again.

That is one of my most favorite memories of me and my dad. A joke that only he and I got, laughing the same way, in a very odd moment. I love it.

I will never forget that laugh. I hear it again every time I laugh.

Thanks for the gift of laughter, dad. I love you.

Bug

Variable Consistency

Towards the end my Dad came up with a new catchphrase that I didn't really get. He thought it was hilarious. It was based on some exchange with one of his nurses at UCSF and her wondering if Dad was as difficult with all the other nurses as he was with her. I don't remember how it went exactly, but it ended with, "Everyone gets the same treatment."

He was always working on a new catchphrase, but that's not where I'm going with this story. My story is that with my Dad this phrase was true. Everyone did get the same treatment. They got the same amount of love and attention from him, BUT it was very tailored and fitted to each person. All us kids were not treated all the same, but we were given the same amount of individual attention. I'm hoping that makes sense. None of us can share the same stories unless we were ALL there. We all have individual stories that are unique and our own, but we all have them. Here's an example to better illustrate:

When I was in middle school for a couple summers, Dad and I would go dirt bike riding. I think maybe on a couple outings Chris or Doug may have been there, but the vast majority of the times it was just me and Dad. Chris was out of the house probably and Doug was too young to ride. We went several times each summer. Dad had a big Husqvarna and I had a little old Suzuki. We'd load them up in the truck, stop by and grab a bunch of snacks and Wild Cherry 7-Ups and head down to Oroville out near the airport and ride in these big open fields. Dad taught me how to ride a motorcycle. The place we rode was a huge range of fields with a dried creek bed winding all through it. At some points the creek bed was 8-10 ft across and one side was 5 ft higher than the other. We'd take turns playing follow the leader across the fields and riding IN the creek beds making twists and turns. When I followed Dad it turned into a life and death struggle for me. With the tall brush and the height of my bike I sometimes couldn't see where we were heading, but I just followed Dad. All of a sudden I'd see his front wheel pop up and his bike soar across open air. (His bike was a proper dirt bike with plenty of power and a great suspension, mine was 20 yrs old and made for street and off-road use) He was jumping across the creek bed from the high side to the low side. I'd have no choice but to follow. By the time I saw what I was about to jump across there was no stopping. I'd pin the throttle and pull up, hoping to make it to the other side. Most the time I did. I'd almost always catch a little of my back wheel and a couple times I caught a whole lot of it and would slam into the handle bars.

Sometimes we'd switch bikes and he'd let me ride his big bike. If I ever stalled it I'd have to jump off so it wouldn't fall, try and kick start it, or find a hill to coast it down, climb on while it was rolling and pop start it. I was still pretty young and hadn't gotten tall yet.

The best part (that didn't involve me wondering if I'd make it to the other side of a gap) was when we'd be riding along and a jack rabbit would jump out, that we had startled, and start running at full speed. Instantly Dad would start chasing it and I'd start chasing him and he'd try and keep up with it as it turned and tried to get away from us! Eventually it'd make too quick a turn and we couldn't keep up. That was fun.

None of my brothers and sisters have this memory. Dad and I went riding a lot by ourselves, just he and I. And they all have individual memories too that i don't have. Jenny had a horse, Wendy traveled in Russia with him, Doug ported and polished heads with him, etc, etc. No one has the same exact stories to tell... but everyone got the same treatment.

And that was really damn impressive, to take time and make individual memories with 7 kids. If he hadn't been such a great Dad this wouldn't have happened.

I miss you, Dad. I love you.

- Goose

Three words

Tough Kitty Lovin’

 

Rebecca Tovey

 

Denny's first encounter with a lie

Denny had only been in the first grade for a short time, yet he was already walking home from school alone. On this occasion we had told Denny to wait for us outside the fence and we would pick him up. We had an old green Cadillac four door sedan. We were a few minutes late and when we stopped Denny got into the car. He asked, "Why did you pass me up before?" We said that we had not passed him up. We were just getting here. He said, "No! I saw the car and you just drove by and didn't pick me up." The conversation went back and forth several times. We could not convince Denny that we had not driven by before and that this was the first time and obviously we did stop. He just wasn't buying it. Finally in desperation I asked him, "Denny, have we ever lied to you?"  By this time there were tears welling up in his eyes and his lower lip was hanging out a little bit when he said, "No. This is the very first time".

I have always treasured this memory

Papa

Hard Dad day today

I am really having a hard Dad day today.  On the verge of tears at any moment.  I cried all the way to work today.  I think it might be because with all of the preparation for Mothers Day, it only reminds me that Fathers Day is just around the corner. This will be my first Father's Day without my Dad.  My sadness is now turning into regret.  Regret about not being a better daughter. Regret about not sending him a gift every year or a very thoughtful one.  When I would send him a gift, I loved to send him all his favorite treats for Fathers Day. He especially loved when I would send him a homemade card.  He would rave about it every time we talked.  I sure wish I could give him one more Father's Day gift.  One more homemade card. One more "I love you and thank you for being my Dad". One more hug.

I really miss him today!!  I am so grateful he was my Dad.  He was so fun and very insightful.  I wish I could call him and asked him what he would do to cope with all of this pain of loosing a parent.  He always knew the right thing to say.  He has gotten me through some really tough times that no one else was able to.  How will I ever cope with out him? 

I love you Dad!! 

~ Nancy ~

Hauntings

Denny always said that the house was haunted.  He said that occasionally he would wake up when a “cat” jumped on the bed knowing that the cat had died.  Or that the cat – in this case Gordy, would scratch his head and shake the bed.  Then one night after his mom’s death he told me someone strummed the strings on his banjo.  He thought that his mom had done that.  Well about a week ago I was awakened by the guitar early in the morning.  It went “ping” and I just lay there for a few minutes trying to decide what just happened.  Then I thought “Denny is here!” and fell back to sleep happy.  In the morning I looked at the guitar and noticed one string was loose.  It wasn’t broken just loose.  Yes, he was here….

Rebecca Tovey

Missing one of his girls

I was downloading photos today on my computer and ran across this photo.  It was when Vic and I went out to see dad at UCSF 2 months before he died.  This was the last time Vicki saw him.  I am so glad we remembered to take a picture. 
Wish Wendy could have been there.

-Nan

The Making Of A Mechanic

Dear Family,

Jenny has asked that we write some remembrances of Denny that the family might enjoy reading.

I have a few memories you may not know about.

THE BEGINNING OF THE CREATION OF A MECHANIC

As you all know, Denny was born on December 3, 1949. What you may not know is that he was a very sick little boy. He looked absolutely terrible.  He was so sick that he very seldom slept, but cried most of the time. After caring for him all day, and by the time I got home from work, Nana was exhausted. I would take over to let her get some rest until bedtime; then we would take turns watching him during the night as he had trouble breathing. This went on for a couple of months, until Nana and I were both so tired that we were afraid we would fall asleep and Denny would quit breathing.  Even though we had no money,( I was only making a little over $1.00 an hour then), we decided we needed to hire a nurse to watch him; at least for one night. We did that. The next morning the nurse said, “It’s a good thing I was here. Denny stopped breathing and started to turn blue. I picked him up and got him breathing again. Your little boy is very sick. I know a doctor that may be able to help him.”  We took the doctor’s name and made an appointment for him to see Denny.  After he examined Denny, he said he thought Denny may have asthma.  As I remember, he made up some kind of medicine, or, maybe it was pharmacy made. I’m not sure.  Anyway, we began giving it to Denny immediately. It was only a few days until he began breathing better and sleeping a little.  Within a few months Denny was putting on weight and sitting up playing with his toys by the hour. By the time he was six months old he was the healthiest and cutest little boy you ever saw. Apparently the medicine the doctor had given him had given his body the ability to overcome the asthma and he was never troubled with it again. We were forever grateful to both the nurse and the doctor.

It was 1954. We had just moved into our first home a few months before, in 1953. Denny was three. I don’t remember how or where we got it, but we got a little tricycle for Denny. He loved it. He rode it all the time, and as fast as he could go. He rode it like the devil was after him. He rode it so hard that one day he bent the left rear wheel so bad he couldn’t ride it anymore. Several times he asked me to fix it but it seems that I didn’t get around to it as soon as he thought I ought to. One day when I came home, there he was riding his trike, going like the wind, likity split, all over the yard. Somewhere he had gotten some kind of tool and taken the broken wheel off the trike.  He then would tip the trike over to the right side on two wheels and ride it like a bicycle. The beginning of “THE MECHANIC”.

                                                               

PAPA

I saw him

I was particularly tired this afternoon and when I laid down to sleep I was out like a light.

I dreamt that Dad walked in my house.  He was at the top of the stairs and paused.  I could not contain my happy to see him, and ran over and hugged him around his chest.  I grabbed him tight like I had no intention of letting go anytime soon.  

He just looked down sort of pleased and amused and said, "What's up, Wen?"  He seemed to not know the reason for my gladness and all I could say was "I am just SO happy to see you!"  I released him and let him continue on his way, which turned out to be the couch to kick up his feet.  I followed and sat on the arm of the couch, next to his feet.  I said, "I don't know how you're here, and how you seem to be so normal and fine."  He was genuinely puzzled which quickly turned to concern when I told him that he died a couple weeks ago.  Then recognition came over his face and he looked a little ill.  I asked him if he was ok and he didn't really answer.  I asked if he remembered dying and he nodded that he did.  All he said was, "Can you tell Mom that I could really use a drink?"  Mom was very busy in my kitchen, but I came in and told her, then said that I'd get it.  I got distracted and then remembered what I was doing.  I wondered why he hadn't asked again and whether he might be mad at my taking so long.  That was the end.

When I dream of my Tommy cat, I wake up feeling like I really, truly got to see her and pet her.  My brain won't quite let me have that with my dad dream, but I'm really glad for it just the same.

-Wendy (Biscuit)

Punch for Uncle Denny

I've been enjoying reading the stories and memories that have been shared.  I've been trying to form the words to write one myself and then I keep talking myself out of sharing, thinking MY memories wouldn't mean anything to anyone else.  After reading what Wendy had to say tonight I decided to just share and let everyone decide for themself whether it was worth reading.  So here it goes...
 
I spent much of my life being afraid of Uncle Denny.  As a child I believed he really would shoot my dog, and as a teenager I was sure he was looking for me to do something wrong so he could get me in trouble with my Mom.  I observed the relationship my sister Candy had with Uncle Denny and wondered how it worked.  They truly enjoyed each other.  She never seemed afraid of him.  I think if we had the same experiences with him she would probably have not taken him so seriously, and I'm sure he knew that, maybe that was the ticket.
 
Several years ago my husband and I invited Uncle Denny over for Thanksgiving.  I was probably surprised at first that he showed up.  During dinner he asked who made the hot holiday punch, I had, he asked for another cup.  After dinner I offered to make a plate for the next day and he declined asking only if he could have the punch, ALL of it.  He told me that it reminded him of the punch his Mom would make.  I was so pleased by this.  I remember Nana and Mom making a hot holiday punch when I was a kid, I don't have the recipe for it though.  I came across a recipe that seemed similar so I used it as a base and added some things I remember Nana using.  It was so cool that we share this nice memory of Nana.  Uncle Denny told me that if I ever wanted to make his day I should just show up with two 5 gallon buckets of the punch sloshing around.  Every time I made the punch after that I would make a double batch and take it to him.  Once he wasn't home so I left it on the porch without a note or anything, he called while drinking the first glass.  He shared it with NOBODY!  Sometimes he would dilute it with diet lemon-lime soda to make it last longer.  It was meant to be served hot in a mug, but if you saw it in the fridge the brownish color would probably discourage you from drinking it but he smiled when he saw that I had marked the container "Poison" just to be sure.  I know I'll think about him every time I make that punch for the rest of my life.
-Kimmie        
 
 
 
 

Playing with Fire

So, Denny’s antics with fire started long, long ago I’ve been told.  There is some story of a fire in the tree house when they lived in Northridge.  Denny always hated when anyone told that story, unless it was him.  I will leave the details of that episode to Keith or Karen, I’m fuzzy on the details – think he tried to blame it on a crystal radio…

 

Always on the edge of danger, the first memorable encounter I had with his pyro tendencies was when we lived in the house on Alexo in Lancaster.  It happened sometime between when Wendy was born and when I was pregnant with Craig, since my maternity clothes stored in the rafters of the garage were a casualty of the following incident. 

 

When Denny changed the oil, washed or cleaned parts, etc, he stored the old used gas and oil and any other petroleum products in empty gallon antifreeze jugs.  One day he had a very full one on the workbench and decided to find out what would happen if he put a match to it.  (Yeah, I know, bright idea, huh?)  Well, it made a nice little flame at the top of the jug, kinda like a lantern…until…he accidently knocked it over!  Then as fire is wont to do, it followed the gas/oil trail everywhere it ran.  In the ensuing chaos, I am not sure how it got put out, but it managed to light up well enough to damage the boxes stored in the rafters.  That was a pretty good blaze, as you might imagine.  Luckily, it didn’t burn down the house, or anything too valuable!  The fire department was called at some point and the boxes had smoke and water damage.  Our house insurance paid something for the damaged stuff – my first encounter with replacement cost versus prorated value clauses in insurance policies.  Luckily the structure itself was mostly undamaged.  Denny’s pride wasn’t so lucky.

 

Of course, his love of fire didn’t end, it probably just became a bigger challenge!  The kids will all remember him making paper airplanes, dousing them with lighter fluid, setting them on fire and flying them off the back deck of the Beechwood house.  Somehow, that never ended in disaster!  (Well, unless you count the incident when the kids did it when we weren’t home…but that’s another story.)  Paradise being the tinder box of dry leaves and pine needles covering the most roofs, and a lot of the landscape, fire was a particularly exciting event. 

 

Another favorite fire trick was to get a blazing fire going in the fireplace in the living room (especially at Christmas with lots of wrapping paper that made a high fire).  I think it started with somehow going outside and seeing the bits of glowing paper floating out of the chimney that inspired him to take a full sheet of newspaper opened full out and lay it in the fireplace on top of the blaze to see what would happen.  Well, it was pretty cool, as all will attest, to run outside and watch the entire sheet, intact, float out of the chimney still on fire until it glowed and then went out and landed somewhere.  How it never landed on Harvey’s roof, which had an abundance of pine needles, or ours, or anywhere else that would light up in an instant, I’ll never know!  I do know that was about the final straw for one of our neighbors, who after one such experiment was pretty upset watching the flying fire from his house, and really reprimanded us for the dangerous behavior.  Rightly so, I suppose.  But it sure was fun!  Also, somehow, our chimney was old enough, or had been altered in some way and it didn’t have a spark arrestor, or anything to prevent the huge papers from exiting intact!  Design flaw – so really, it wasn’t Denny’s fault the paper flew out on fire! 

 

I am sure there are more fire stories – they don’t come to mind right now – anyone who remembers, just jump right in here.  I do know the love of fire was in some way passed down to Chris – if you haven’t experienced one of his outrageous bonfires yet, you’ve really missed something.  They would make his dad proud!

 

Story by Jeri Tovey – who lived through it to tell the tales.

Where have all the stories gone?

I am feeling a little down since I just heard my neighbor lost her mother the same week we lost Dad.  Cancer, of course.  She was diagnosed 3 days before she died.  Being so sad for her is making me need to hear more stories about Dad.  Nobody is posting, and I'm checking several times every day!  Come on folks, let's hear 'em. . .

-Wendy

Guess For The Money!

My siblings all know this story well, it was one of our favorite games that dad played.

Every once in a while dad would come home from work and ask us if we wanted to guess how much money he had in his pockets. If we got it correct, we could keep it! All of it! And sometimes, he had a LOT of cash in his pockets. I'm not sure who the biggest winner ever was, but I seem to recall someone getting around $148. That's nothing since sometimes he had well over $1,000 on him! And I know if we guessed it, he would have given it to us. He would have thrown up at the same time, but he was always a man true to his word, and he would have handed it over. He was good like that.

Anyway, one day he comes home and asks us if we want to play guess for the money. I think he must have had a lot on him that day and was nervous he might lose it, so he switched it up a bit. He started with Chris and said, "Guess how much money I have in my pocket and I'll give you $40." He went on down the line and said this exact thing to each and every one of us. Every time he said this, I grinned a little bigger. He stopped at one point when I was bouncing in my seat, looked at me nervously, and asked me what I was so happy about. I said, nothing, I just like this game! He gave me a bit of a distrusting look, then went on about his business.

After he asked Vicki, the last of the group to guess (to which she always replied $5 and actually guessed right once or twice!), he said that none of us guessed it. I calmly stuck out my hand, and said, "I want my $40." He said, "but you didn't guess it correctly" to which I replied, "You didn't say we had to get it right, you just said that if we guessed how much you had, you would give us $40. We all guessed, we all get $40." At this point my siblings were freaking out, agreeing with me that yes, that is what you said, and you said the exact same statement to all of us! Dad looked utterly dumbfounded, his jaw dropped, he looked at my mom who said, "that is what you said." He shook his head, and handed us all $40 each.

Sadly, that was pretty much the end of Guess The Money! I think he was too scared to say something incorrectly and have to hand out a ton of cash!

- Jen

So sorry about your dad

I just heard about the loss of one of the best people of the world. I will truly miss him. i met Denny (THE BUBBA DEAN,, DEAN OF ALL BUBBAS) when he had his shop next to Red Lion pizza many days i use to bring my little hot rod truck to his shop to work on it and he would say to me "just give me a hand getting some of these cars done and you can get in" well 10 hours later in the dark and a ham cheese and pineapple sandwich later we would leave and i got nothing done but we had a great time doing it and figured we would try again tomorrow.I will miss his sarcastic jabs and great times we had. Now i live in Massachusetts and didn't get to talk to Denny as much as I liked to nut he is and always be the best. Rick Rutherford

My dad was MacGyver

It was time to get my '66 Mustang out of the Utah winters and home to CA to sell.  Dad flew out to drive me back, since it was a sizable drive in November.  (Also there were no seatbelts in those old cars and my defrost was being weird so I had this nonstop fog on the inside of the windshield.)  We got on our way and the weather was pretty bad.  Whoever wasn't driving would wipe the windshield and fiddle with the heat controls.  A few hours into the drive it was apparent that the heater wasn't working at all anymore and the little draft that didn't seem so bad at first was freezing us out.  I was as cold as I'd ever been and Dad told me something about losing toes and fingers in that kind of cold, so we exited as soon as we could and found an auto parts store.  I'm not sure exactly how he did it, but with a piece of hose he rerouted some hot water from the engine.  It may have taken him 20 minutes, and what we had was a coil of burning hot hose at the passenger's feet.  I kicked off my shoes and put my socked feet on top of that hose with a blanket over me and it, to trap in the heat.  Woo!  What sweet relief!  We took turns being the freezing driver and being the toasty passenger.  I have always been so impressed with that.  He was very cool that way.  And MAN, was I so glad that my dad was there with me on that drive!!

-Wendy (aka Biscuit)

This Phase Is The Worst

I've been dreaming about my Dad a lot lately. I'll be at the house on Beechwood and he'll drive home or walk by me in the hall. I'll remember that it's not really him (in my dream), that i'm seeing his spirit, but I don't care cause i still get see him and talk to him. I've also been to several funerals in my dreams as well. It's tempting to call these dreams nightmares or painful, but they're not. I'm glad to relive anything that reminds me of him.

I started researching and learning as much as I can about Ford V8 engines, at first out of necessity since Doug and I will be left to build the engine for his '66 Fairlane. But the more i read and learned, the more I felt connected to my Dad... but now I'm just kicking myself for not taking more of an interest in mechanic specifics. But necessity is a greater teacher than curiosity. I didn't think I'd have to learn anything. I figured Dad would be around forever.

It's slowly, slowly sinking in just what has happened. But more than anything I'm still in disbelief that he's gone. I'm gonna have a hell of a time switching from the present tense when I talk about him. Dammit... I miss him like crazy. i didn't know it would be like this.

-Craig

Kid #5

I am trying to find ways to cope with a life without my dad.  I decided (at least for now) to do things that he loved.  I'll eat some orange cinnamon rolls out of a can, go to a classic car show, wear tweety bird socks and have a steak and potatoes dinner.  My dad sure did love alot!

Harder Than I Thought

I think some of my siblings and I are a bit shocked at how less-than-stellar we are dealing with the loss of our dad. I thought it would be easier after the funeral and it would only get better, but it's gotten worse! Apparently, this is normal. Most people we talk to tell us that it takes about 3 months to stop feeling the tightening in your chest and for the leaky eyes to slow down a bit. 

3 months? Are you kidding me? This blows. Some days are good, others are awful and I can't stop feeling anxious, depressed, tired, angry, etc. I have yet to sleep a full night in the last month.

I went to the cemetery the other evening for a visit. That was depressing. Standing next to a large patch of dead grass with flowers marking where he lies. Not how I should be visiting my dad. I couldn't stop thinking that this isn't right, this is not what was supposed to happen, someone made a mistake! He's not supposed to be HERE! I'm not supposed to be here "visiting" him! 

Who do I call to complain? Who's in charge of this process anyway? I'd like a return please. You can't do that? I want to speak with your manager! I am not leaving here without my dad! Call the cops, then. I don't care. I'll make a scene, I swear I will! You'll wish you never messed with a Tovey! You think my dad was bad, you just wait until my brother Doug hears about your refusal to return my dad, you'll regret it! Okay, fine, I'll go. I understand, some things just can't be done. But, please at least tell me this - Is he happy? Did he get met by a lot of friends and family? Is the pain gone? Does he miss us?

I'm sure dad will be the best tour guide in heaven when we get there. I wonder if that's why he went so long before us. He really wants to master things up there so he can show us the ropes. He'll have some of the best new stories, and he'll have tons of people he'll want us to meet! 

Until then, I'll just hold on to the memories I have of him here with us. There's a bunch. And there's a lot of great stories left to tell.

Patricia Neville

To the Tovey family, I remember Denny buying tires for my van and doing a brake job on it on the day Andy died. It was a complete surprise to me, when all I had asked was for him to finish the brakes as we didn't have the time. On the day o...f the funeral, we found out that no one had asked your dad to do the eulogy for us. But he was okay with doing it at the last minute. And he did a wonderful job. Whenever it was just me and the kids coming to visit family in Paradise, I would stop by the shop and just visit with your dad. We lost touch in the last few years for which I am sorry. Your dad will be greatly missed. Love, Trish Neville.

Share A Story!!!!

If you want to share a story about Dad, you can send an email to jen1202.shareastory@blogger.com and it will show up here as a post! I just did it with this post! Tell your friends! I'd love to hear stories about him that I haven't heard or might have just forgotten. I'm not ready to let him go just yet. I need some memories to wrap myself up in for a little while longer....

Thanks!
Jen

What To Do Now????

I want to say Thank You to all of you who cared about my dad. Our family will be forever grateful for everything that you've done for him - the rides to UCSF and back, the phone calls, the visits, the food, the prayers, the thoughts, walking with him up and down the hallways at the Hospice House, treating him like the strong, independent man that he was and not the sickly, weak, incommunicative shell that you saw in his last days, your attendance at his funeral and all the kind words and hugs you gave us.

It was wonderful to see everyone and to hear the great stories about him. I wish we could have heard more and spent more time with all of you. I like to remember those things about him. He was such a character!

I have spent so much time on this update blog that I'm not quite sure what to do now. I'm not really ready to give it up. Weird, huh? Are you ready to stop checking it? Not yet? Well, I'm going to leave it here for awhile and see how I feel about it. I might post once in a while, so don't give up on me just yet!

Thanks again for joining us on this crazy, emotional ride. We enjoyed your company!

Jen and the entire Tovey Family.

Funeral Information

Funeral will be held for Denny Tovey this Monday, April 11th at 1:00 p.m. in the LDS Church on Buschman Road in Paradise, CA.

There will be a viewing from 12:00 - 1:00 p.m. for family and close friends only.

Short graveside service following the funeral at Paradise Cemetery.

Goodbye, Dad. You Will Be Missed

Dad passed away today at 4:40 p.m. surrounded by friends and family. Thank you to everyone who came by in the past couple of days to say goodbye. It meant a lot to our family to have you there and to know how much he is loved and by so many.

We are planning the funeral and burial for this coming Monday, April 11. The time is yet to be determined.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Talked to Craig this morning, he said they finally decided to give dad some Ativan last night since he was restless and waking up with every little sound. They had to give it to him in a liquid form which makes me think he's incapable of swallowing pills at this point. He said dad finally settled down and was sleeping soundly.

The nursing staff at the PHH have been, for the most part, fabulous. They are very nice, and very accommodating to all the visitors and family. Every night they offer up the Quiet Room (a small living room type area) to Becky, Craig and Doug so that they can take turns sleeping. Becky said they even make food for the family if anyone is hungry and not wanting to leave. 

That being said, Craig was not very happy with the nurse on staff last night. Not only did she refuse to let them use the quiet room so she could do her paperwork in there (there are at least 4 other desks/tables/rooms), but she was not very gentle or even very polite, was rougher with dad than she needed to be and quite condescending to Craig. He said when she would deal with dad she was a bit too forceful and he was obviously very agitated and upset at her movements. Craig had to continually stop her and ask her to be more gentle and patient with him. 

We have all been treating dad with the respect and dignity that he deserves. He is still a human being and is still capable of having emotions even though he can't voice them at this point. We don't treat him like a child, make him do anything he doesn't want to do, and we talk to him the same as we always have. We are willing to let him go when he's ready, but we are not going to try to hurry up the process by drugging him and refusing to let him get out of bed. 

The nurse last night was not one of the normal nursing staff and won't be back, but Craig was going to speak to the nursing manager to let her know of his disapproval of her actions. After writing this, I want to find her and kick her ass. 

If you are one of the lucky ones who are able to visit with dad, please don't let anything like this happen again. Feel free to step in and stop them from treating him with anything other than soft hands and soft voices.

UDPATE:
Got a call from Craig at noon saying that the Dr. was in to see dad and said that it was time for the family to come to say goodbye. I arrived there in short order to join the boys and Becky at dad's side. He had not been conscious since earlier in the morning and couldn't be woken up by Becky or the Dr. They checked his pulse and it was slowing and his breathing was getting shallower. We sat with him, said our goodbye's and met with dozens of his friends who heard the news and came to see him one last time.

At around 4:40 p.m., Craig and Doug heard him take a deep breath, squeeze his eyes shut, exhale, and relax. That was it. His heart stopped seconds later and he was gone.

About an hour later we noticed that his face had relaxed quite a bit, he looked more at peace, and his mouth had closed and was turned up in the corners into a little smile. He looked better than he had in awhile and it was very comforting to finally see him looking so peaceful.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Saw dad for a couple of hours this morning with my 3 kids. He was very tired but still managed to walk all the way around the building with Becky. He didn't talk at all and every time he would sit down he would fall asleep. Every time he would wake up, he'd try to stand but most of the time didn't have the energy for it.

Becky said he had lots of visitors today but didn't interact with them much at all. Not sure if he's recognizing people anymore. Could be that he's just having an off day and tomorrow will be better.

We might try to get him to take some Ativan tonight to help him stay in bed and get some rest. Craig and Doug will make that decision.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Saw dad for only a couple of minutes today. He was quite alert this morning, talked to Wendy a bit on the phone and was somewhat clear and understandable. He spent most of the day sleeping with intermittent jaunts down the hallway with his ever-changing footmen at his side. He's had lots of visitors and it's been great to see how much everyone cares.

They have decided to try to drop his dilaudid from 2mg every hour to 1.5mg. Hopefully that will help to perk him up a little bit. 

It seems he's been trying to tell us something and ask us questions, but he either forgets the thought before he gets it all out or it comes out jumbled up. We're pretty sure he's trying make sure that we're o.k. He seems really worried about us. He gives us lots of hugs and kisses when we leave or when he sees that we're really upset. He gets a sad, worried look on his face and it seems to confuse him a bit. It's actually quite sweet - him, comforting us.

Dad with me and Owen

Monday, April 4, 2011

Saw dad this afternoon. He's doing good. Voice is stronger, but he doesn't say a lot that makes sense. He's still restless and wants to walk a lot but the nurses really want him to lay down with his feet up since his legs and feet are so swollen. They were going to give him half a dose of Ativan to try to get him to stay put for a little while.

He is aware of his visitors and recognizes them. When they leave he seems a bit bummed and calls them back to say something but forgets what it is when they come back. 

He held Owen (4 mos.) today and seemed to really enjoy holding him and snuggled with him and kissed his head a lot. It was very sweet. I'm hoping to bring Bryce and Lucy up tonight or tomorrow to get a picture with him too.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Becky said dad is feeling much better today. More mobile, and can talk a bit more. At least they are able to understand some of what he says and it makes sense too.

I went to visit him this afternoon but after doing hot laps down the hall with John Curtis, he was spent and was snoozing when I got there. I had to leave to retrieve my screaming baby so I didn't get to see for myself how he was doing.

Craig and Doug are on their way now, and I'll be up there to meet them shortly. I'll update when I can.

UPDATE:
I went back up to see dad tonight and was very surprised to see him walking well and moving all around the room and hallways. He had been doing more laps with Mike and Pizza Greg and I thought he would have been tired, but he was still wanting to be on the move. When Craig and Doug got there they took over and he didn't stop until about 9 p.m.


At one point, he was outside and he grabbed onto Doug and I and just started walking fast. I joked that he was trying to escape, but I think that actually might have been true! He checked out every area, would stop when he realized he couldn't go any farther, then turn around and go somewhere else. Finally it got dark and cold and Mike brought out the wheelchair and we got dad to sit down and brought him back inside.


I left as they were getting him ready to settle down and go to bed. Craig and Doug were going to stay with him and Becky was going to head home for the night to get some sleep. I hope he rests well, he really needs it after all the exercise he got today!

Saturday, April 2, 2011

I went to see dad today at PHH. When I walked in, I was not at all prepared for what I saw. Dad was sitting in a wheelchair, VERY swollen with edema, with his head hanging, mouth open, and fast asleep. I talked with Becky for a minute before I sat next to him and rubbed his back gently. He woke up, looked at me, and looked a bit surprised to see me. He did this same thing a handful of times before he got used to seeing me there.

He is very shaky, can't stand on his own, and can't talk except for a gravelly whisper that is very hard to understand. A nurse came in to give me an update on his meds and said that they have been giving him Ativan since he's been so restless and is a danger to himself as he's a fall risk and could pull out his IV. I asked them to please stop giving that to him for now until Doug comes out to see him tomorrow. It makes him seem much worse than he really is.

But, I talked to the nurse and she said, "this is what happens at the end". I asked her how much time she thought he had left, and she said, "days". 

I had only been there for about 10 minutes, but I had to leave. I gave him lots of kisses and hugs, and he wanted to stand. He wrapped his arms around me as best he could and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I told  him I loved him and he told me he loved me. He then gave me a little head bonk, and that's when I really lost it. I gave Becky a hug and barely made it to the parking lot before the sound of the puppy whimpering in my throat made it to my lips in a full blown sob.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this, but I felt like I needed to write it down before I forget it.

I imagine most of his problems are from his declining blood counts. He hasn't had blood or platelets since leaving UCSF and I'm sure that's why his voice is gone and he's so weak. He's also very pale. If your blood carries oxygen to your brain and organs, then what happens when you don't have enough cells to carry that oxygen???

Leukemia sucks. Cancer sucks. Losing your dad SUCKS.

Friday, April 1, 2011

They are getting ready to load up and leave UCSF shortly. Becky will be going with dad in the ambulance. They estimate that he will arrive in Paradise at the Hospice House around 1 p.m. Becky said they are ready and waiting for him.

Kimmie visited the PHH last night and said that it's very nice and home-like. Each room as a patio and walkway out to the yard. She said there is currently only one other patient there, so dad will get plenty of attention and care.

UPDATE: 
Talked to Becky this afternoon. She said they were there and dad was getting settled in. She said he was really tired, but the room and the facility is wonderful and it should be quite nice. I'll be heading up in the morning to see him and I'll let you know how it goes.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Becky talked to the Palliative Care people who said that now is a good time to go ahead and transfer dad to the Paradise Hospice House as they can take care of him the same as the nurses can at UCSF. 

The doctors agreed and they are getting him ready to transfer him via ambulance up to Paradise. They tried to get him transferred today, but couldn't get it all organized in time, so they will transfer him tomorrow morning. 

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Talked to Becky today. She said dad had a really restless night and was even up at 2 a.m. wanting to take a walk. That didn't last long and he ran out of steam and had to go back to his room. She said he slept quite a bit today to make up for it. He's not making a lot of sense today and they're having a hard time understanding what he wants. I was hoping the chemo would have made some of that a bit better, but it hasn't. It is either due to the leukemia being in his spinal fluid and affecting his brain, or it could be the 2mg of dilauded every hour that's he getting. Hard to tell.

He has stopped asking for pain meds once they upped his dilauded drip so that's a plus. They'd like to get him off of the IV painkillers altogether, but that's a slow process. They said they want to keep him until next week sometime to follow him a bit more and see if he improves.

Becky has been talking to the Palliative Care folks (Social Workers) who have researched facilities for his care when he leaves UCSF and they said that one of the best places for him would be in Paradise at Hospice House on Bille Road. It's a 6 bed facility and they have beds available. It is one of only 3 like it in California that provide 24 hour inpatient services in a home like setting. It seems to be the answer that we need for when dad comes home. His care would be more than family and friends could handle at his house and having him in Paradise would be wonderful as he would be local and everyone could visit much more often.

Here's the link to FRH Paradise Hospice House:   http://www.frhosp.org/medical/hospice.php

Monday, March 28, 2011

Talked to Becky and Dad this afternoon. He had a really rough night, didn't get much sleep and couldn't even really settle down to sleep until 2 a.m. They have increased his Dilaudid to 2mg/hour from the 1.2 it was at yesterday. They also started the chemo this morning (Methotrexate). He'll get the Aspariginase next and then he'll just have to recover from those before he can go home.

He speaks somewhat clearly, but his thoughts are a mess and he doesn't make much sense. I think he has a thought, tries to translate it to words, and his lips and tongue decide to spit something else out entirely. He is sometimes aware of this, and sometimes not. The increase in dilaudid is not going to help this and will only make it worse. 

Don't be surprised if you get one of those phone calls from him at an odd hour that don't make any sense. He must have been thinking about you and wanted to talk to you, but by the time you answer, his thoughts have turned into tossed salad. Just be happy he was thinking about you.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

I'm here at UCSF with dad and Kimmie and Candy and Becky of course. 

I spoke with Dr. Kemp who said that he and Dr. Martin don't think that the 60 day treatment is an option for him. The benefits don't justify the length and toxicity of the treatment and he would just end up in this place again but will have spent 2 months in the hospital when he could have been at home.

They do want to do a short term chemo treatment that will take 2 days and he'll be here for about a week to recuperate. They are hoping that the treatment will drop the amount of leukemia in his bone marrow and ease his pain. If it works, he can continue to do this treatment every 10 days. He also could possibly do this at Feather River. 

If the treatment doesn't work, they said he has several different options for Hospice. He can either be at home with family members taking care of him with a nurse coming in a couple of hours a day and on-call, or he could go into a facility that deals with hospice patients, or he could stay here at UCSF in a "Comfort Suite" where they would keep him comfortable until he passes. The home hospice is his obvious choice, but the problem with that is that he cannot have IV painkillers at home, only oral. Those have not seemed to help his level of pain, and he requires quite high doses of IV Dilaudid.

We'll have to wait to see how he fares this week before we pick up again on that conversation.

He is a bit more alert today but still says VERY random things, can't quite follow a conversation, and gets really confused. He is a lot more stable on his feet and can move around by himself quite well. He has a nurse who sits in his room or outside the door 24/7 since he is so confused and is still a fall risk.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Dad has been transferred to the 14th floor today in a single room. The doctor came in today and gave him 3 options. I'll briefly explain them.

Option 1: Decline any further treatment, go home and call in Hospice.

Option 2: Do a short term, mild chemo treatment, then go home and eventually call in Hospice.

Option 3: Opt for a very intense, heavy duty chemo treatment that would keep him in the hospital for 2 months and knock as much of the leukemia out as they can. The possibility of remission is slim to none, and the treatment itself may kill him.

Becky said she would like to talk to him about it tomorrow when I'm there. I have called all my siblings to get their feelings about the options, and I'll let dad know if he asks. We will all support him no matter which option he chooses.

Check out the American Cancer Society's information on Hospice care:
http://www.cancer.org/Treatment/FindingandPayingforTreatment/ChoosingYourTreatmentTeam/HospiceCare/hospice-care-what-is-hospice-care  (click Next Topic to continue to the next page)

He has increased his dilaudid to 2 mg. every hour to deal with the pain. Becky spoke with someone (nurse/nurse practioner? I forget) who said that his mental state could possibly be due to the leukemia entering his spinal fluid and brain or it could be due to some of the medications. She did say he is a bit more alert today. 

He received more blood and more platelets today. He seems to be burning through both at rapid speeds.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Called UCSF today to see how dad was doing and talked to his less than helpful nurse, Susan. She said he needed blood and potassium but that his platelets were fine. I asked her how his mental status was, and she said his short term memory is still shot and he can't remember much at all. She said he was steady on his feet, so that is a bit better.

The doctors should be in today sometime, hopefully sooner rather than later. I'll find out from Becky what they think and if they have a plan or even an idea of what's happening.

Candy and her 3 oldest will be stopping by to see him today. I will be heading down on Sunday.

UPDATE:
Becky talked to the nurse practitioner who said that dad's blood is showing 59% leukemic cells. They are going to give him some softer chemo drugs to try to knock the numbers down a bit so he'll be in the hospital for a little while longer until he recuperates from that. After that, it looks like he wants to go home and have hospice come in to monitor his pain and treatment. He is also talking about getting a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) in place.


They are trying to get him up to the 11th floor where they can better manage his pain and treatment.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Cat scan results at the ER showed no problems, his blood counts were low, but not low enough for any transfusions. He's home now, but Craig talked to Dr. Martin's nurse and got his admit day moved up to today at UCSF. He still won't go today since they probably won't have a bed until Sunday.

Craig has been monitoring his dilaudid intake, which dad is not happy about, but they think he was getting too much since every time he wakes up, that's what he asks for. We're hoping that by giving him a smaller amount on a more regular basis, he'll do better.

He's fairly stable on his feet, and his verbal skills are a bit better, but it's obvious that something is wrong. He'll get blood work done again tomorrow morning, and I'm sure he'll need blood and platelets.

UPDATE:
UCSF called and they have a bed available today. Craig and Doug will be driving dad down this afternoon. Becky will head down this evening after she gets home and packs some stuff for the hospital. I'll be heading up to his house to say goodbye before he leaves today. I'll also try to get down to UCSF this weekend. Hopefully I'll get an update from Craig and Doug this evening as to why he's deteriorating so rapidly.

UPDATE:
Dad and the boys left for UCSF today at 4:30. He probably won't even get to his room until 10 p.m. or later. I saw him for a couple of hours today and he's not doing well. He's very weak, needs help to walk and get dressed, forgets what he's doing, and doesn't make much sense when you talk to him. He'll have a moment of clarity, and start saying or walking somewhere, then forget what he was doing. 


When we got him ready to go, we started heading towards the front door, and he turned to go back down the hall toward the bedrooms. We asked him what he was doing, and we needed to leave, and he paused, and softly said, "One more time." He then headed into the master bedroom, looked around, and then must have forgot why he was there, cause he started to take off his jacket and shoes. We had to remind him again where he was going and he just hung his head down, and said, "oh".


We got him out to the car and he looked at me and asked me where I was going, and I told him I was going home and the boys were taking him to UCSF. He gave me a hug and a kiss and told me he loved me, then got in the car to leave. I think he knew that might be the last time I see him. He just doesn't have enough energy or the attention span to say more.


The dad I saw today is not my dad. MY dad can put on his own jacket and shoes. MY dad can walk to the bathroom by himself. MY dad could eat more than 2 bites of food at a time. MY dad could always finish a sentence AND a long, drawn out story. MY dad was the strongest man I knew. MY dad would have told me how sad he would be to leave us all behind and he would tell us all how much he loves us. The guy I saw today was not MY dad. MY dad is gone. And I miss him so much already.