Why I Visit Dad

Yesterday evening, Shelley and I visited my Dad. He was sleeping when I entered his room so I nudged him awake. As usual, he didn't recognize me at first so I just talked to him as if we'd been talking all along. I told him I'd spoken to Joyce, his daughter, earlier in the day and told him about Joyce's visit with his sister's Noemi and Rebecca. I explained how they are doing well (they're not) and he was happy to hear they are well and he started to cry. I then called Joyce so she could hear Dad's voice and talk to him. They talked, he cried.

My visit with Dad yesterday is typical of what our visits are like. I've been asked why I visit my Dad when he doesn't usually recognize me or know what's going on with the loved ones in his life. My answer is simple, I visit my Dad because I know who he is and what he was. I respect his life and I want to keep his memory alive for others in the family who will not get to know him as I have.

Dad's Rich Life

I thought I would share with you all some of my Dad's life events. In today's blog I will take you back to the family home he helped build with his parents and siblings.

This is a photo of my grandfather, my dad, his sibling, and other  friends who helped build the family home in the early 1930s. They built it from scraps of other homes that had been torn down and my grandfather bought the materials and slowly built the family home. From my perspective it was an estate.

This is the completed family home. This photo was taken in the late 1950s.

Working on the family home was an on-going project. My grandfather was always adding something new or improving an existing feature of the house and grounds. This photo is of my dad working on the driveway curb in the 1940s.

Here is the family having fun together after a rare snowfall. From left to right is my Dad, his sister Noemi holding Patsy, the youngest of the siblings, sister Rebecca, a friend/relative I can't remember, and finally his brother's Paul and Joe.

Here are Dad's parents enjoying an evening on their front porch. I have fond memories of my grandmother telling stories of her childhood growing up in a ranch in Lockhart, Texas. She would also sing songs to us that spoke of life. Sitting with my grandparents is my Aunt Becky, she became my godmother when I was born.

Here I am with my cousins in the yard of the family "estate." Behind us are grapes growing on the  wood frame and a pecan tree. We are sitting on a concrete table and bench my grandfather built for outdoor eating. Sitting on the table is my brother Bruce, and me holding my cousin Daniel. Seated on the bench is my sister Joyce, cousin Elsa, and cousin Xavier.

There are many happy memories built around the family home in San Antonio, Texas. Today the home is over 70 years old and is occupied by my Uncle Joe. The Beatles lyrics, In My Life, hold true...

"There are places I remember

All my life, though some have changed

Some forever not for better

Some have gone and some remain

All these place have their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life I've loved them all"