Kathy, AKA Bubbles, what a beautiful tribute!  I'm sure your dad knows your 
love for him, and he'll be there to welcome you and show you to your mansion 
when the time comes.

Hugs,

Peggy
http://kernsac.livejournal.com/
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Kathy Du Bois" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, January 12, 2007 6:47 PM
Subject: a tribute to a heero


> Hi guys,
>
> Okay, I hope that you guys aren't getting tired of hearing about my
> life, but I thought that I'd send you an update since this may be the
> last one for a while.
> My Dad is definitely going home tomorrow to die.  They have moved him
> out of I.C.U. into a private room, and I know, from other situations,
> that that means his situation is terminal.  Hospice will be taking
> him back home on Saturday.  Two of my brothers are coming over to
> move out most of the furniture in the living room to make room for a
> hospital bed, but the difference is not expected to last for
> long.  Dialysis did not go well for my Dad today.  In fact, we
> thought that he was going to slip away today.  His heart rate went
> down to 32 and his breathing was irregular, but my brother told us
> that when he learned that we were coming, he rallied.
> I talked to Mom tonight and I assured her that me, with my guitar,
> was on the way.  She sounds so tired, but resigned to the reality of
> the situation.  She has been a good wife and he has been a great
> Dad.  He had a lot on his plate that most people wouldn't even think
> of.  How would you handle being the father of seven children, knowing
> that two of them were blind.  How would you deal with having to give
> up farming, something in your blood, and being retrained, in your 30s
> so that you could keep putting bread on the table.
> I'll have to write a tribute to this man, soon, but whatever I say
> will fall short of the true man.  I was up before sunrise to go for
> two-hour horseback rides with this man.  I experimented on this man
> with my first attempts at cooking, and he survived!  He did offer
> some to the birds though.  HMMM!  He took me canoeing and taught me
> how to harvest oats by hand to give treats to the horses.  He
> assigned me chores, just like everybody else.  I had to collect the
> eggs and slop the pigs, just as my older siblings had before me.
> His heart begged him to protect me, but his head told him to teach me
> about life.  I am so blessed that his head ruled and that I had the
> life I had.  He even modified an old station wagon so that my older
> brother, who is also blind, could feel what it was like to handle a
> car.  After the hay was harvested, we would pile into the station
> wagon and let Terry have the wheel.  Terry would drive all over the
> hay fields to the shouts of, left, right, Break!  Ahhhh!
> I didn't get out of haying either.  I had to learn to drive the
> tractor and the same, left, right principle applied to me, but I know
> that I made the job easier by allowing the boys and Dad to wrestle
> the hay bales.  It's a good thing that ivory soap floats because,
> after the hay was in, we'd all head down to Bass Lake for a wash and
> a swim.  Thank the Lord that the E.P.A. wasn't around at the time.  I
> suppose that they wouldn't have thought much of my Dad for making
> Bass Lake a bath tub, but we kids had fun.
> My Dad taught me how to stack wood, and I had to do it
> too.  Blindness didn't work for much of an excuse in our house,
> though I know, with his father's heart, he would have given up his
> sight if I could have gained mine.
>     He insisted that I get good grades, but he was also committed to
> creating as much family life, especially for Terry and myself, as he
> could.  When Terry and I reached the age of five, we each had to
> attend a boarding school about 400 miles away.  My Dad made many
> round trips, breaking the speed limit, I'll admit, to try to get us
> home for weekends as much as possible.  Even though we were far away,
> we never doubted how much we were loved.  We were never coddled and
> we were never excused from behaving well and being upright and moral.
> Of most importance, Dad lived putting Christ first.  When the farm
> failed, when he was laid off, when his children went astray, when
> things were hard, God was never blamed for the difficulty, but
> appealed to for strength to get us through.
> I'm going home to say goodbye to my hero.  Thanks Dad, for
> everything!  You were the best Dad that I could have had.  Thanks for
> believing in me, for putting up with me through the terrible teens,
> and for loving me even when I was not a very nice person in
> return.  Thanks for horseback rides and fresh Christmas
> trees.  Thanks for taking me fishing.  Sorry that I never got into
> cleaning very well.  Thanks for letting me keep all those cats.  I
> think we had 16, at one time.  They did help keep the mice away from
> the grain, didn't they?  Thanks for rowing the boat across the lake
> and back so that I could swim.  Do you remember how I learned to call
> the loons?  Thank you most for appreciating my music.  It is the gift
> that I enjoy the most.  I love you Dad, and I'll miss you.  I'm so
> grateful that this goodbye isn't forever, for I will see you again,
> soon; sooner than we know, and we will have eternity together.
> Bubbles
>