For as long as I can remember my father called me Bud. I have no clue why. No one else ever called me that, not even my mom. It is not short for any part of my name. Regardless I was his Bud and I answered to it whenever he called.
My father passed on June 23rd after having heart surgery.
His doctor told him months ago he needed the surgery but he said he had things he had to take care of first. My sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. His step mom who he visited every day at the retirement home is 93 and had just been diagnosed with cancer. He and mom were discussing a remodeling of the den and living room. He was retiring from the church service program he had helped start 15 years ago and they were giving him a dinner. There was paperwork he needed to get together. And he told the doctor, "You only have one shot to turn 80 and he wanted to make it.
My sister had her surgeries and is doing great. No chemo or radiation. She feels blessed.
He started the remodel. Knocking out a wall to merge the den and living room and converting my old bedroom into a laundry room.
He had his retirement dinner. They gave him a plaque. His whole crew was there and he felt blessed.
Grandmothers cancer was deemed slow growing and that she would die with it and not from it so they are not going to do surgery. Last month he set me and my sisters down with all his financial info, just in case.
He told me a while back that everything was taken care of and he was going to schedule his surgery and he was at peace with it. His surgery was scheduled for June 10th.
He turned 80 on June 1st. The family gathered and we had dinner and cake. He played with his 3 great grand kids and found out 2 more were on the way.
I picked he and Mom up at 4:30 am on Wednesday the 10th to take them to the hospital for his surgery. The first report was that everything went perfect. Second report said the right side of his heart did not restart so they installed a bypass to help it. Wednesday night into Thursday became a marathon of code blues and bad news. He never woke up and on Tuesday, 13 days after his surgery, the Lord he was faithful to serve took him home.
His Church family was there from day one of the surgery through his passing. They have supported us and especially mom. His funeral was a celebration of his life of serving his God, his family, his Church, and his community and there were people of all those groups there to speak of his dedication to serve others.
You left huge shoes to fill. You raised me and guided me. I pray I can carry on your legacy.