38 MARCH 2023 WorldWide Drilling Resource® me I was just a week away from turning 16, and said, “Just to work and back - okay?” And, that’s all I did drive while they were gone. I knew plenty of kids who would’ve taken advantage of the opportunity and taken their parents’ car other places, but my father trusted me and I felt honored. A few weeks before I turned 20, Dad took the Swine Flu vaccine of 1976. It caused a blood clot to block the vessels to his brain and he suffered a massive stroke. Paralyzed on the right side of his body, he couldn’t walk, feed himself, or speak; he was only 51 years old. Dad could no longer smile on the right side of his face, and as a right-hander he couldn’t write. Remarkably, he learned to speak again after a few months of aphasia. He learned to write with his left hand; and with a firm brace on his right leg, and a cane in his left hand, he was able to walk again. Sadly, his intellect never recovered. He had been a smart, analytical, and humorous man, but his mental capacity afterward equaled that of a toddler. He could only communicate basic needs; his ability to comprehend anything abstract or complex was beyond him. Over the next two years, while I was attending college, I would go home and have dinner with my family about once a month. Six months before my dad died, he started asking me to move home. I would tell him I didn’t want to move home, I enjoyed living in my apartment near campus. He would ask me repeatedly every month. Then 30 days before my lease came up for renewal, my roommate announced he was getting married. I was unable to find another roommate before the end of the month, and I couldn’t afford the place on my own, so I moved home. My dad’s condition deteriorated immediately upon my moving in, and he went into the hospital the next day. Four days later he was dead. I deduced my dad had known for six months that he was ready to go, which explained why he kept asking me to move home. When he passed away so quickly after I moved in, I felt his message loud and clear: he wanted there to be a man in the house to take care of my mother and sister. I was honor bound to comply, and while I had originally intended to only live there for one month, I stayed 14 more until my mother became engaged to another man. On Dad’s last day, as I sat on the edge of his bed holding his hand, his final words to me were, “Bobby, I want us to go camping again.” I couldn’t understand why he said it. Didn’t he know he was dying? Even if he wasn’t, didn’t he know he’d been unable to do anything on his own for more than two years? It only recently dawned on me what Dad was trying to say to me that day, and it inspired me to write this article. Dad was never one to say “I love you’” very often, but what I have finally been able to hear in his last words was he did love me; and he regretted not spending more time with me. And, 43 years later, I still miss his counsel, his humor, and his love. Robert Robert is an innovation/change speaker, author, and consultant. He works with companies that want to be more competitive through innovation and with people who want to think more creatively. Contact him via e-mail to michele@worldwidedrillingresource.com Wilson Cont’d from page 37.
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