Yesterday, June 28, 2019, marked the 50 year anniversary of the day my father died. At 7:15 a.m. I turned to my husband, Bruce, and remarked that was the very time we were talking with him and he fell upon his bed, held his (in my memory) swollen, beet red head and never said another word. Probably a stroke, we believe, but we will never know. To our knowledge, he never had high blood pressure, but he did have a very unorthodox diet, smoked two packages a day of strong cigarettes, and was in a stressful situation. So much for how he died…what he left behind is what breaks my heart. My mother was widowed at 42, my sisters were 14 and 17, and I was 20. My father, at 45, had so much to live for, and we have lived so much of life without him.
I would be lying to you if I didn’t so very often, wonder what he would think of me as a woman. I have his coloring, his shape eyes, his determination. But I have surpassed his age by 25 years, and have had so much more time to accomplish and create my life than he did. My father never had the chance to see his daughters marry, and I was fortunate enough to walk both my darling girls down the aisle. My father never saw grandchildren, and I am fortunate enough to have 4 amazing young people who heighten and brighten my life. My father never enjoyed a marriage that has lasted for close to 49 years…I remember my parents celebrating their 25th and that was their last celebration.
Would my father think I was less than a whole woman because I have an ileostomy? In 1969, when he took his last breath, ostomies were so much less known and understood, less tolerable, less livable. There were fewer supplies available, support groups didn’t exist to the extent they do now, and there was no or little representation to provide the necessary protections to live a full life. President Dwight Eisenhower, Napoleon Bonaparte, the actress Barbara Barrie and actor William Powell, Red Skelton, Fred Astaire all had ostomy “bags” (we now refer to them as pouches) but it wasn’t common knowledge. My father may have thought I was weakened by my new anatomy, that I was less than other women, that I was tainted. But I choose to believe he would have grown to see me as an incredibly fortunate survivor, with a great cause for the determination he gave to me.
My ostomy has made me an advocate and I do what I can, go where I am needed and spread the word that living with an ostomy is positive and fruitful in relation to the alternative. The people I have met, the places I have been and the goals I have bring such richness to my new life as an ostomate, which began March 17, 2014.
My father was so missed by my sisters and I this month as the anniversary approached. We toasted him when we were together, we recognized all that he did not get to enjoy, but we celebrated the lives we have, with those we adore. We are all lucky to have great men in our lives, but he was, after all, the first man we loved!
I also lost my Dad at an early age…I was 23 my siblings were 20 and 17 my Mom was a widow at 45 my Dad passed at 51. I wonder every day if he would be proud of me and what type of relationship we would have now. My Mom and Dad were married only 25 years. I have passed that milestone, he never saw me succeed in my career or get married and I have lived past his age as well…what would life be like if he had lived?…I wonder all the time?
So meaningful. Also so surprising to hear that those movie and tv stars had ostomies. You are helping normalize so ma y lives every day!
Such a sentimental and Loving ? recount of your Father for you and your Sister’s. Extremely inspiring, as well.
You are a fortunate amazing survivor!
I am so grateful to be your friend ?