Dad always made “To-Do” lists. They were usually scribbled on envelopes of unopened mail. Over the years I watched him make lists, mostly of names of people he agreed to help that month and a plan for moving money around to get it done. He would say he was “robbing Peter to pay Paul.” I’m not really sure where that phrase originates from, but I caught myself saying it to Olivia the other day and she asked me “what does that even mean?” I told her I wasn’t sure, but I could guess it was about redistributing money for the good of others. I wasn’t even aware I said it, it just came out.
When dad decided to forgo treatment and transition to hospice care, he started jotting down notes while he was in the hospital. He would scribble in a notebook since he didn’t have any envelopes. At first the notebook was filled with instructions he wrote down from doctors but then that trailed off at some point. Most of what he wrote down after that was how he would be “robbing Peter to pay Paul.” Sometimes the numbers brought him comfort, sometimes anxiety, either way, there was always a list of names and a plan.
When he transitioned home, he asked me to give him a ride to “take care of some business.” He hated to ask for rides, but he was no longer able to drive. He said he knew when he was driving home after the doctor gave him his cancer diagnosis and he parked his truck, that he knew it was his last time behind the wheel.
On one of our trips, we started off with Bavarian-filled donuts and some coffee at Shipley’s Donuts. For the next few hours, we drove around Houston to take care of his business with people he had known for years. At his request, I sat with him in a few of the meetings and listened as he explained why he hadn’t been around in a while and what he needed from them at this point. I think he wanted me to “watch and learn” but what I watched were the faces of the people as they tried to hide their sadness. What I learned was how much people cared about my dad as each interaction ended with him signing some papers and hugs, lots of hugs. After we left each place, he seemed to mentally check off a box in his head, moving him closer to some grand plan.
We made a couple of more trips out to eat breakfast, his favorite meal of the day, at restaurants like I-Hop and 59 Diner. As always, he flirted with the waitresses, complimented the food and left pretty big tips. We made plans to go to Denny’s the following week, but his health rapidly declined and we were not able to make it.
Shortly after dad died, I found his last “To Do” list. It included some of the places we stopped at to take care of business, a list of some final things he wanted to get done and good deeds he planned to carry out before time ran out.
In my next post, I’ll share more about the good deeds he had planned.
Postcards to Heaven 