Journal and Courier from Lafayette, Indiana (2024)

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4TGIF jconline.com roughly nine hours later, Dad as in a catatonic state and breathing in deep, sporadic ursts that the nurse later informed us were which are a sign of and would prove to be his last. He died at 12:30 a.m. Sunday, Dec. 21, 2014 within an hour of my arrival and just moments after my We believe he was waiting for all of us my three siblings, Mom and myself to be there with him as he slipped away. Irecall it being unseasonably warm outside the hospice in Little Rock that evening as we stared at the stars in a clear sky attempting to make some sense of the moment.

I was again left One last conversation with Dad I remember a particular day i November 1987 quite ell. My older brother and sister and I had just returned ome from school and were creating quite a racket in the basem*nt where my bedroom as when voice boomed down the stairs, bellowing: quiet down there, your grandpa ust Irecall not really knowing ow to digest that information as I carefully wandered up the stairs leading into the kitchen here Dad a blue collar laborer who rarely showed igns of sadness sat quietly himself at the dining table. I understood he was hurting, but I was only 8 years old and quite muster the nerve to walk over and attempt any ype of consolation. I the years following my death, conversa- ions about him would always arise between Dad and me. We lamented and laughed over memories of how quiet been in the presence of his wife (my grandmother), his cunning wisecracks that somehow flew under her radar, and the overall ease and coolness by which he carried himself a Maxfield family trait, we joked.

Time and time again, these reminiscent moments would result in Dad trailing off in his own thoughts and then concluding, sure wish I could have just one more conversation with With those words, I a lways knew my pain. at least, I thought I did. sentiments about hav- i ng last resonated with me as I traveled south to Little Rock, Arkansas, a bout one year ago to this day. I carried with me a DVD box set favorite television eries a slightly early Christmas gift and hope- ul avenue for reconnection as lay in hospice. Iknew we all knew that ad was sick for quite a while.

had been suffering from a debilitating respiratory illness or much longer than I care to think of. Just one year prior to this Arkansas trip, Dad was discovered unconscious in his bedroom by my younger brother and rushed to the hospital. He laid in an induced coma for some time before finally gaining enough strength to return home. Here it was happening all over again; only, this time was much different. I could tell as much by the sound in my voice when she called me earlier that day dying, she quivered.

When I arrived at hospice ith the feeling from when I as 8 years old, trying to dig est the loss. never quite forgive myself for not having arrived at side any sooner than I did in order to have more time to talk with him instead of at im. a regret that I know I dwell too strongly on just as much as I travel back i time and change it. Ayear later, there are mom ents every day when it occurs to me that I should call Dad and tell him about some- hing happening. reminded again of the loss with very thought; my engagement a lovely woman whom he insisted was plan- ing a wedding that we so wish could attend; tips on purchasing a home; or any number my lame duck ideas that ould be significantly improved upon, or squashed comp letely, by simply bouncing them off him over the phone.

At the end of the day, I know Icarry the lessons instilled by my guidance with me. But the words that Dad said so many times while discussing the memories of his own father that I finally now understand wholeheartedly I sure wish I could have just one more conversation with the guy. Maxfield is a producer, archivist and Lafayette historian at the Journal Courier. Email him at follow on Twitter: field. THE VIEW FROM HERE PROVIDED BY THOMAS JOURNAL COURIER Joseph W.

Maxfield, Sr. THOMAS MAXFIELD.

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