IN REMEMBRANCE
Fred (1989)
Fred (1953)
My husband passed away at the age of 67 on February 24, 2000, two days after our fifteenth wedding anniversary. This section of my webpage is dedicated to his memory.
I cannot convey how much he did for my daughter and I over the years. If not for him, I would not have my wonderful daughter at all. My pregnancy was complicated by an incompetent cervix, which was discovered at 24 weeks gestation, necessitating my having to remain in bed for the last 3 months of my pregnancy. He took over all the household chores, shopping, readying the nursery, yard work, cooking and caring for me as well. He helped me bathe each morning, washed my hair for me and set up an elaborate system of lights throughout the house and yard so that I could summon him without getting out of bed. (He was totally deaf, so I could not call out to him.)
He was present in the delivery room, soothing and calming me. After I returned to work, he took over a lion�s share of the infant care; and he did every bit as good a job as I could do. He was tender and loving with her, and so proud to show her off to family, friends and in public.
He was a 30+ year alcoholic, and had tried many times to stop drinking. Finally, in 1985, he kicked the habit for good. I never failed to remind him every year on that anniversary how very proud I was of him. He literally changed his entire life for us.
He had completely lost his hearing due to spinal meningitis in 1977 which significantly altered his lifestyle. He lost friends, had extreme difficulty functioning in social situations, and withdrew from people in general. I met him in 1983, when he was a patient of mine recovering from a prescription drug interaction that caused him to stop breathing. It was pretty much love at first sight. I took him home from the hospital five days later, and stayed with him from that moment on. We married a year and a half later. In 1987, he was evaluated and fitted with a cochlear implant, which allowed him some limited hearing. This improved our ability to communicate, and with the assistance of lip reading, his verbal comprehension increased from a mere 23% with lip reading alone to 98% with the implant.
We moved into the sandhills of South Carolina in 1989 and he puttered around the 25 acres, building things, cutting paths through the woods, and taking our daughter on long walks. We built a one-room log cabin near the lake from the debris left by Hurricane Hugo�s destruction.
He was an avid reader, and loved fiction based in fact - mostly mystery/intrigue stories. He also was in the process of reading an encyclopedic dictionary from cover to cover, and had completed almost half of it. He loved television programs about history, and was a big baseball fan, following the Atlanta Braves faithfully. He was a veteran of the Korean conflict, ending his stint in the army at the rank of corporal.
In November 1999, he was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. The chest CT scan showed widespread metastasis throughout the chest and neck. There was nothing that could save his life. He elected to have no biopsy to determine the type of cancer, and chose to have no treatment other than comfort measures. He remained at home with our daughter and me where he wanted to be. We provided the majority of his care, aided by the wonderful, caring assistance of the local Hospice chapter. I cannot say how much their willingness to try anything and everything within their grasp to make him comfortable meant to all of us.
He died on Thursday, February 24th, with my daughter and I at his side. He was cremated and no funeral was held, in accordance with his wishes.
Fred, my darling�..Melody and I miss you terribly and love you with all our hearts. But we take comfort in knowing that you are in a far better place now, and no longer suffering. Hopefully we will again "see" you again someday. (And thank you for "visiting" me in my dreams to give me that warm, loving embrace - I really needed that.)
Though you are not here,
wherever I go or whatever I do.....
I see your face in my mind,
and I miss you so.
I miss telling you everything.....
I miss showing you things.....
I miss our eyes, secretly giving each other confidence.
I miss your touch.....
I miss our excitement together.....
I miss everything we shared.
I don't like missing you.....
It is a cold and lonely feeling.
I wish that I could be with you right now,
where the warmth of our love
would melt the winter snows.
But since I cannot be with you right now,
I will have to be content
just dreaming about when we will be together again.
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