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Proceeds from this book are donated to:

Boys & Girls Club of East Aurora www.bgcea.org

BabySteps of St. Michael’s www.babystepsidaho.net

“Dad was eighty-six when he came to visit in June of 2022. He flew through two time zones, rented a car (because he liked having his own wheels) and after a full day of traveling, he wore a happy smile when he pulled in our driveway. He had no specific plans for the week, except to see a Buffalo Bisons’ baseball game, frequent his favorite ice cream stand (Nick Charlaps), and spend time with his family. That’s the way Dad liked things. Keep it simple.

Three hours into his stay, Dad missed the bottom step on our deck stairs and face planted in the driveway. “I’m okay,” he told me. He had a nasty gash across his face and needed help getting to his feet. There was so much blood in the driveway it looked like a crime scene. Poor Dad, why did this happen? Six hours later we learned Dad had broken his back. And two days after that he had surgery to fix his back.

Again, I wondered; why did this happen? I looked forward to Dad’s visits and now we were hanging out at the hospital, then at rehab, and finally, nursed him back to health at our house. His surgery was successful, but there were other issues. He was retaining fluid in his legs and the skin on his ankles split open.

Why?

Dad sat on the edge of his bed at my house, as I cleaned his wounds and reapplied his bandages.

Things got worse.

“Dad,” I said. “We better take a look at your feet.”

Dad looked at me on my knees, washing his feet, and told me, “Jack, I want you to know how much I appreciate all that you do for me.” Then he smiled and added, “I know how difficult this is for you.” Those simple words from Dad meant so much to me. They stuck with me.

“Thanks, Dad,” I answered. And then, as always, going for a joke, I told him, “This is child abuse.” And we both laughed.

The whole time, Dad never complained. That wasn’t his style. And while he recuperated, we made good use of Dad’s extended stay in Western New York. We even got to a Bison’s game. But the best part was that it afforded us the time to work on something we hadn’t found time for in the past.

Dad told me his stories.

And I wrote them down.

Dad’s stories weren’t about climbing mountains, making the world news, winning trophies, or surviving near-death experiences. They were about regular things. Little boy Dad, funny Dad, loyal Dad, friendly Dad, creature of habit Dad, and most of all, unconditional love for his family Dad. The best part of Dad’s stories was listening to him tell them. And it gave us another reason to spend time with each other. I treasure those stories and our time together more than anything Dad could have left behind.

And so, now I have my answer. I know why? Why something that seemed so bad at the time was something so good.

Thanks for the memories, Dad. Thanks for everything you did for us. And most of all thanks for loving us. We love you back.” - Jack Livingston

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