Today marks the twentieth year since my dad's death, Gale Crane. My siblings, spouses and I are celebrating with a dinner at my home. We'll reminisce about old times, his life, death and what we're all doing now. Paula is flying in from Omaha, but the rest of us live close by.
Over time we've set aside our sorrow of the day we were notified to go to the hospital. Somehow I knew his life was over as I sped there, walked through the ER room doors and was ushered into a private suite. A heart attack at sixty three years young stole him from us. The days that followed were hard, as I went down that road of loss. Anger, sadness, depression, hope, love and peace visited me at their appointed times. In due time, I returned to the living & tried to help others.
Who was Gale Crane? That was my biggest challenge, to get to know my dad. He'd worked swing shift most of my life. Working when I was home & home when I was at school. Waking me early each morning, he'd leave to do chores on the farm. His teasing, loud laughter, always busy doing something nature, but a strict desire to teach us the value of work was his way. Daily he left work for us, trusting we'd do it right. We heard about it when we failed. A good father, husband and friend, Dad provided the best he could. I never appreciated him enough, until he was gone.
Retiring just six months earlier, I'd been too busy with my own family to spend much time with my parents. He'd helped us out bringing top soil for our new home when getting a good deal on the dirt. He loved helping others in ways we never knew and had many friends from spending time at the coffee shop. Thanks, Dad for your example.
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