That's the kind of man my father was. I remember him frequently scratching my back when I was a young boy and even later in life. What a pleasure for me! He was not expecting anything in return. None of this "if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours".
He was always willing to serve others. When he was living at The Bluffs, our community nursing home, he was usually cooperative. On the rare occasions he tried to do something inadvisable (like elope, or intrude unwelcome into someone else's room), the staff knew how to redirect him.
"Bill, would you help me out?" And he would follow. Service to others.
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Somehow, he did it again.
My mother-in-law died February 5. We're planning her memorial service for March 10. Our son, Stuart, will be flying in from Hong Kong and another son, Mark, from New York to attend.
Dad displayed perfect timing. With the scattered tribe gathering, this gentle warrior left to join the ancestors.
Sitting at his bedside after he died, I placed my hand on his chest to feel him once again. To remember him. Moving my hand, I remembered all the times he had scratched my back, and later in life how I had scratched his. A pleasure for both of us. One way I could express love after language had failed, or when language was never really needed. Nothing expected in return.
Dad, I'll scratch your back, one more time. Period.