He had worked at the Good Samaritan Hospital in Lebanon, Pa, starting off as an X-Ray Tech, working his way up the ladder until he eventually managed the department. He got me my first job, as a dark room attendant, back when they used actual film for X-Rays. I was not the athletic son he'd hoped for though I did like watching baseball. We were both big Philly Phans for a number of years, making the 2.5 hour drive 3 or 4 times a season to watch them play.
One thing my Dad like was going to the movies. He and I went quite often. Every 5 or 6 weeks we'd go and always to action movies. These were good times. There's a jolting moment in "The Bourne Identity" when a villain crashes through a frosted windows. We both jumped. I said something like "Holy Fucking Shit," and he laughed. Silly little moment, I know, but life is filled with silly little moments.
He and my Mom chose to go with Home Hospice. On December 12, 5 days after their anniversary she called me at work. He chose to be cremated. I can clearly remember sitting in the living room with my sister, my brother, and what seemed to be 500 other relatives, friends and neighbors when my Mom called out to me. "David, is it okay if we put Daddy in this?" Walking into the kitchen, she had moved a cookie jar onto the table, a present I'd given them a long time ago. I shrugged, "sure." So my Dad's ashes are nestled in a yellow, kitty cat cookie jar. There's a blue butterfly on the kitty cat's nose.
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Real silly moment.