"BRING ME A COLD BOTTLE OF BEER"

Less than two weeks until turkey season and the old man is hanging on by a thread. I spent last week on duty, relieving Bird from his week of no sleep, helping dad in and out of bed. I was scared and nervous at first. I may have a church but I'm no pastoral strong man. In fact of all of us Osties I'm the one who chokes up the easiest and seems to have the least patience for these things. You want a minister to listen to your troubles or administer to the congregation? This ain't the church for you. That said, I'll do whatever I have to do for my family.

In and out of consciousness, dad rallied enough one afternoon to have me read him a letter sent by Savage Lynch. Two sentences in and I was a blubbering fool. Savage writes a good letter. "Give that to me." the old man grumbled when he saw I couldn't get through it. But his eyes were too bad to read it. So I took it back, sucked it up and plowed through. When i was through, he smiled and stated that that was one helluva good letter. It seemed to perk him up. So that evening I moved him over to the hospital bed, cranked up the back and Mrs. B served him left over lasagna like he was in a restaurant. Two bites in and he hollered "BRING ME A BOTTLE OF COLD BEER." I complied. That night was a rough one.

Now he's going down for the count. No more food. (He can barely swallow.) A little water. Some morphine. All hands are on deck in order to make him as comfortable as possible. Mom is a tower of strength. Happy hour every day at 5:20pm. So much love emits from her tiny frame it can bowl you over. Turkey season is fast approaching as the old man slips through our fingers. I fear it will it will be a lonely one. But if he taught us one thing it is to appreciate each other and get on with it. In the toughest of times he always said- "This too shall pass."