Williams, Thurman

Daddy…by Marilyn Switzer

Thirteen years ago today, in the wee hours of the morning, my father succumbed to

cancer. He died as he wanted, at home in his own bed. My mother took meticulous

care of him, concerned not at all with her own needs. He was a non-

complaining patient. She was a non-complaining nurse. So, he peacefully took his

last breath with a good deal of his family standing vigil by his side. It was the least

we could do. He would have done it for us.

I wondered, before he died, how we would go on without him. It would not

have honored him if he had not. So, we have. Family members have married, had

babies, moved, earned degrees, started businesses, laughed...continued living. He would be proud of us.

He was a wonderful dad. He was well-known for his gentlemanly demeanor. He had a wonderful dry wit. His social skills

sometimes could mortify my mother like the night they had dinner guests, and

he stood up and said, "well, I don't know about you folks, but I have to go to

work in the morning. Good night." That can really break a party up.

He was a tinkerer. He often "repaired" things around the house, and then had

to call a repairman to undo the damage. I loved Saturdays when he would ask

who wanted to go to the hardware store with him. I was always the one who

went. To this day, I love a good hardware store. I have his old drill. The

trigger sticks, the chuck key is not connected so I am often having to search for

it. The cord is sticky with duct tape residue where the key has been taped

many times. It is because of those Saturdays that I prefer a drawer full of nuts,

bolts, hooks, and washers over a drawer of make-up. He is the reason that

some of the best gifts "he who wishes" has given me include a box of various

sized drill bits and a welding torch.

Daddy was one of the most self-sacrificial people I have ever known. I remember a time in particular when he had

pneumonia. Because of his health issues, pneumonia was very dangerous for him. He called me, and I was coughing my head

off with bronchitis. He asked if I had cough drops, and I said that "he who wishes" was going to get me some on his way home

from work. About thirty minutes later, he was knocking on my back door with a bag of Hall's cough drops. For himself, he

bought the generic brand, but for his kids, nothing but the brand name was good enough.

He was quite the astute businessman. He bought me a yellow Opal with a black vinyl top when I was a Sophomore in

college. He picked it out, and surprised me with it. It was such a cute little bright yellow box of a car (probably, why today I

drive a Honda Element that looks like a box). I was so excited. About 18 months later, I totalled my little Opal. After receiving

the insurance payment, he bought me an Opal Manta. When "he who wishes" and I married, of course, Daddy gave us the

car. Several years later, we were about to buy another car and offered to give Daddy the Manta if he wanted it. He wanted it, but

he bought it from us. Great businessman...bought the same car twice. If my memory serves, he did that again later with a Ford

LTD that he gave us and then bought back.

Daddy was one of eight children. He was the second to youngest. He was the one they always counted on. When his niece was

expecting a baby, he was the one who went to her house and set up the baby bed. She had a dad, but he was the one everyone

always called. He helped my mother care for her parents as they aged. He cared for my mother's aunt. He was the one who flew

to Florida with her when her son died. He was the one who picked up an elderly family friend for dinners and Christmas Eve

celebrations. He took care of his own mother, his aging sisters and brothers. He would accept nothing in return. These are just a

few examples of his reliability.

He was color blind. Sometimes we joked and said he was design blind as well. He

would put on plaid pants and a striped shirt much to my mother's dismay. He only

got out of the house dressed like that if Mom wasn't there to see him. One of his

worst purchases (he loved a deal) was a blue polyester shirt with brown polka dots. I

was with him when he bought it at Levy's. It had been discounted about 95%....with

good reason. It was hideous. I did everything I could to discourage the purchase. I

always thought he bought that thing just to get Mom's goat.

One of our annual outings...just Daddy and me...was to go to Centennial Park at

Christmas to see the Nativity Scene. As the spotlights changed colors, he always

asked me what color was up at the moment. When lighted doorbells became popular, we would drive around neighborhoods and

spot those little lights glowing by front doors. They were sort of the equivalent of "punch buggies" for us.

He could walk around the yard on his hands. I never learned how to do that. He taught me how to drive. He taught me how to

drive a stick shift ~ bless his heart. He did not teach me how to parallel park, so I still can't. He taught me how to pump gas. He

taught me how to value myself. He taught me how to use a screw driver, channel locks, and an electric drill. He taught me how

to make do. He taught me to be grateful for what I have, and to not focus on the things that I think I don't have. He taught me to

stay calm in a crisis. He taught me how not to view my life as being all about me. He taught me how it feels to be protected and

loved and cared for. He taught me a lot about the nature of God, the Father.

He was not a perfect man. He fought depression demons his whole life. He was physically frail in some ways. He often suffered

physical maladies. In spite of this, or possibly because of this, he bettered the lives of those he touched. I shall forever live in

gratitude that he was my dad. To honor him, I will try to live a life that reflects the things he taught me. Thirteen years go today,

in the wee hours, he succumbed to cancer. He left this leg of his journey through eternity, peacefully and knowing that he was

loved.

The Wedding at the Hermitage Hotel and later visits