 |
| Robert Lee Ducksworth 12Sept37 - 5Jun14 |
 |
| The bottom picture is of Dad with me |
When I was about three months old, my mother had custody of me as a teenager along with two other kids all of us under the age of 5 and she herself was under the age of 20. My biological father was of no help really as he was young himself. I was the only boy and the only one of the three of us (my half-sisters and I) whose paternal family had any interaction with one of us let alone her. My 'grandparents' would come to pick me up on the weekends and keep me to give my mother a break or whatever the reason was. One particular weekend, Rob had come to get me (at about 3 months old) and my diaper had looked like I had been in it for hours or longer. I was screaming my head off and my middle sister was wearing my diapers that my grandparents had bought for me. Now, in my biological mothers defense, she was young and maybe she had the same diapers for my sister as we were only a year and a week apart. I was born early. According to my 'grandmother' I was about 3 pounds and some ounces. Yes, I was a preemie. Back to this story though, Rob asked my mother to change my diaper and as he got me in the car he decided I wasn't going back... so I didn't. Back then, you could do that type of stuff. Nowadays, there's paperwork for miles and stuff but it was just different. Rob tells it that I was just sick when I first got there. Very sick. Up all night all the time and constantly hacking and feverish. Many doctors appointments and such I eventually got better. When Mom and Dad took me in... they were 40 and 41 and raising my aunt (sister) Shirlee and my aunt (sister) Jackie was there, if my math is on my aunt (sister) Deb was probably there too. My father was probably wherever.
Life growing up there was pretty much cake (as I see it now) but as a teenager looking at it, I was a little shit. Spoiled rotten and always wanting more. Rob and I butted heads all the time when I hit my teens I was just bitter at the world. I was angry that my mother didn't 'want' me, my father and I weren't seeing eye to eye. He had five other kids with his girlfriend and he did everything with them (well, not literally but more than he did with me) and I was alone. Rob was in his mid fifties now. We used to roll in his Caddy when I was younger or his Lincoln Town Car, but those days were gone now. I was socially awkward, hitting a growth spurt and I had no males to help me out through the toughest time in my life. Rob and I had many a battle through my teenage years. Man did we fight. We argued over some dumb, dumb, DUMB shit.
I'm not going to explain in great detail all the fights we had in detail, but I'll talk about what I learned.
 |
| Dad with Da'lin |
 |
| Dad with Miri |
When Da'lin was born, I realized everything I thought growing up was wrong. It was my job to provide for this child. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't just walk away because it would be 'hard' and I didn't know what I was doing. My father walked away willingly. Not sure of the reasons and I didn't really care and it became irrelevant that cold January day. I became a DAD that day. I was going to shield this child that I helped to create from what I went through. I was going to love him and keep him safe. Just as Rob had done for me. I realized that everything that Rob and Skip (my grandmother/mom) had done for me was strictly their option and I would do it for this child. My love grew for them as my love for my son became bigger and bigger as I looked into his eyes for the very first time because I knew... Rob's decision to take me and bring me in as a grandson and let me call him 'Dad' was something that he did out of love. Not out of pity or out of necessity. He did it because he couldn't let someone he loved have a life that was unsatisfactory in his eyes. In those first few moments with Da'lin... I became a man at 21. From that moment on, Rob and I would talk sometimes and have conversations and laugh about life and family... until his first stroke.
I was with Verizon Wireless at the time of his first stroke and the moment I found out, I took a vacation from work for a week. I gave my boss no choice in the matter. She wasn't happy but I couldn't have cared less. I was in and out of the hospital spending time with him. When I did go back to work after that week, he had to go back in and have both carotid arteries operated on in his neck to remove two blood clots and again, I left work for a few more days. I told them 'Fire me if you want cause family is first and the needs of the business can kiss my ass.' I was back to work a few days later after some encouraging from Mom and after a few weeks, they laid me off with Circuit City closing after being assured that I was to be given a new store at the current position I was in. They tried to demote me all the way down to Retail Sales Rep from Store Supervisor (Assistant Manager) with no write ups or verbal warnings on my record. To this day, I am convinced that I was laid off because I put family first. Given the chance, I'd do it all over again.
After that stroke, Rob was having a hard time recognizing his mortality. I could see it as we talked and I knew it. He had to walk with a cane and I could tell he was mad about it. For a man that was used to being independent, now having to carry a cane (he used to call it a stick) was a bother to him. He always told me that he wasn't "going anywhere". He knew there were many things he had to do to maintain his health and he just did whatever he wanted to. I think it was more that he was just 'tired'. For someone that loved what he did and loved being able to just get up and go, it got to be too much. To watch all his friends pass away as the years came and went, to not feel 'right' as the brain slowly skips steps, and when there's moments it does go along right there you are questioning why it's happening... too much.
 |
| 'The Stick' - He always lost it. I make sure I always know where it is. |
He always loved laughing and saying things for shock value. No matter who was around he'd just say whatever was on his mind and he didn't care one bit what anyone thought about it whether it was true or not. None of us will never find out now...
The last time I saw him, I was on my way to the gym. I drove up to the house and he was standing in the driveway (no stick). I said "What are you doing standing in the driveway?". He told me he was thinking of going to get some bread, but he wasn't sure if he should or not. I told him I'd take him but he said he was all set. He'd probably wait til tomorrow. He asked if I was on my way to the gym and I told him I was. We talked for a minute and I was on my way... That was the last time I saw him eyes open.... Come to find out, he'd have a stroke 2 days later...
The details of the ending, are personal and private. Those that know me know them and I'm holding that. What I learned from it though I will share.
I feel like a born again Christian constantly telling people to repent. It's weird. I am always saying life is too short. If I could take back every arguement I would. Every spiteful word, every stupid moment where I thought I knew it all... I would. People have told me "Nothing you can say or do will bring them back." Well that's no shit and it definitely deserves to lose some teeth dumbass. The pain of losing a loved one that was solely responsible for making a split second decision that quite possibly saved your life, your best friend, and someone that taught you the value of a dollar, hard work, and how to always 'help people' is greater than their short time on this Earth. It's comes down to more than that. It's knowing that 'If I only knew that I would feel this much loss after you were gone'... there aren't enough I'm sorry's to go around. Seeing him in that coffin almost made me believe I could rewind time just a little bit and go back to that day I saw him last and give him a hug and say "Dad, I know what's happening to you. I love you and I know it's hard." See, come to find out, for that whole week leading up tot the stroke he hadn't been driving cause his vision was failing. He 'knew' it was coming. He had to.
For the past three years, I had kind of avoided seeing him because I knew he was 'tired' I watched him smoke cigarettes and eat all kinda of shit he wasn't supposed to and everyone had fought with him about it and he just didn't care... or did he? I was watching a slow, slow, slow withering away of a super hero... and my mental was dying with him... So, each time I'd say "Ah, I'll visit next week... I'll pop in for a minute and then head here or there...". Filled with regret.
My point in all this, is no matter what. If you treat those that loved and raised you with anything LESS than admiration and adoration then you sir/madam are a complete asshat. It may not be to your liking and it may not even fit your style, but they are your parents and the people that gave you life. To disrespect that love, that gift, that opportunity that was given to you is an abomination. I will always have my regret for how I treated my parents throughout my life. Teens will be teens but I am an adult now and I know better. No one will make me treat them as subhuman or without the respect they deserve. They gave me a chance at life when I could have been left to nothing. They provided for me a home, food, opportunities for sports, and love even when I didn't give it back. They had a responsibility to bathe you, clothe you, keep you safe as a child and now as an adult all you have to do is love them... don't be a bastard or anything like that to them... all the help you get from them once you leave home is optional... yes, optional. My parents helping me is minimal at best now that I'm 35. I fall short sometimes and they help me, but I don't expect any holiday gifts or anything... I'm grown now...
Life is too short to spend it ungrateful and dramatic. At Rob's funeral and wake, everyone said the same thing about him. He told it like it was whether you wanted to hear it or not. Even in death, Rob speaks to me... "Keep some change in your pocket and always tell people what you mean. Don't sit there and take it. Tell em what the deal is."
As I wrote to a friend who asked how I was feeling...
Each day, I get mad, fine, angry, reflective, and then finally exhausted. I cry, I laugh, I scream, and then I just stare into the windows or the walls and think about Dad. I am confused and lost at the same time. It's a process, and I respect that. I don't know where our when I'll accept him being gone but I know eventually I will. I'm grateful for feeling what I feel because it lets me know I can still feel. That is a blessing. I love him with everything I am. I'd take every teenage break up over again at that age in succession rather than what I'm feeling now.... But I do respect this process.
I love that man with all my heart. I only wish I told him more. He wasn't the "I love you" type. He wasn't the hugging type. As I typed this I realized that by making that split second decision... he said it volumes more than I could say it if I live to be 100 and say it everyday.
 |
| The Last Picture I Ever Took Of Him Two Days Before The Moment... He was already on Life Support |
As Rob used to say "Always keep some change in your pocket",
*Side note- Be it literal change or the change you need to get ahead in life...
Robert Lee Ducksworth's Obituary
Duck
Share, subscribe, or comments are welcome
