Daddy moved a little when Father John visited, but other than that, he just stared. He lost so much weight he looked like holocaust survivor. He spoke his last known word on June 11, to my mother while I was out cycling, in very broken English, "V-i-o-l-a"...her name.
We'd called his brother, Donald, telling him Daddy was very bad, but Donald rarely visited. On June 12, Donald showed up with his wife, Betty, and when she saw Daddy she was so shocked. That was the most common reaction--"Oh My God!" I smirked at her and said,"We don't notice it much anymore". Then the air conditioning stopped working. Donald, Lawrence, and I piled into Donald's Toyota Camry and rushed to Kuester's Hardware for fuses but as I recall, that didn't work. I made some quick calls to Lappe Heating & A/C whose owner knew Daddy. I told them we needed immediate service. It was summer in Indiana and we had a dying man running a high temperature. They responded immediately.
That night his temperature rose rapidly. Mom gave him Tylenol but it didn't work. His breathing became heavy. We called my brother, Darrel, who hurried the 3 1/2 hour drive from Indianapolis, and Uncles Lawrence and Donald too. They, along with Brenda, Mom and me, and Father John were together, a family, at last.
Daddy's breathing became slower and deeper, gasping, like a baby bird begging for something to eat, but not able to reach. He fought to lift the weight of death off his chest, but it grew heavier by the minute. Father John quietly urged him,"Let go Richard, let go", but he fought hard to breathe. My mother, sister, and I kneeled at the head of the bed, and my brother was on the other side. Uncle Donald and wife Betty were at the foot, and Lawrence, opposite me, at the head with Father John. Daddy gasped, slower and deeper, for over an hour and then--stopped.