"Nighty-Night, Little People..." Part I

That was the phrase that Dad would say to us (me and my two brothers) when he would put us to bed at night...

"nighty-night little people... nighty-night... tomorrow's going to be another day..."

I never knew the source of that, but I wonder if that wasn't something his Mom or Dad used when he and his sister were tucked into bed at night...  It was reassuring...

Dad was not an affectionate man...  I read on someone's blog about what the definition of a "man" was... and my thoughts were... if Dad was  what a man was supposed to be, then I didn't want to be one... I used the term, "guy" to describe myself for the longest...  I can only recall Dad telling me one time that he loved me... and that was during a health crisis he had years before... when it was thought he could die...

Anyway...

Dad had his stroke... and eventually worsened until Barry told me that Dad had minimal brain stem activity... that it was just a matter of time...  and that we should  consider going ahead and saying our "good-byes" to him...

Mom and Dad had six kids... they had three... took a break... and then had three more... I remember hearing Mom tell a friend one day that they had three for them to take care of... and then three more to take care of them... and that is really how it worked...

Of course, I tell my friends that Mom and Dad had two litters of kids... its always good for a laugh...  I am the middle child in the second litter...

We decided that we would meet at Dad's hospital room on the next day... at 10AM... and we would tell Dad "good-bye"...  We got there... and in a very awkward way was trying to decide how to start... what to do... Dad was in his bed... with his eyes closed...

And suddenly, Dad says...

"Nighty-night, little people...  nighty night... tomorrow's going to be another day..."
"Nighty-night, little people... nighty night... tomorrow's going to be another day..."
"Nighty-night, little people... "

And then he stopped... and I asked, "How many times did he say that?"  And a brother said... "Six times..."

There we were... trying to come up with a way to tell our Dad... who was dying... Good-bye... and Dad decides to tell US... who were being left behind... Good Bye...and he told each one of us...

There were eight days between the time Dad had his stroke... and when he died... but during those eight days, I forgave him for the perception that he had hurt my Mom...  I didn't know what kind of life he and Mom had...  but during those eight days, I forgave my Dad... and began to see him in a different light...