3/8/1948 - 2/17/1985

It's hard to believe it has been 25 years since Ralph Jr. (my Dad) passed away. Yesterday marked that day.

I was 13 then, and attending Frankfort Jr. High (7th grade). Dad had been "sick" for most of the previous year. Everyone said that back then. "Sick". I mean, we are talking about the 80's - when almost next to nothing was known about AIDS, and of course, Cancer. That's what Dad passed away from. Cancer - not AIDS.

I remember fuzzily back when it first started. We had attended a black powder turkey shoot at a place south of Frankfort in early November 1983. We attended different types of rifle shoots in the area, Dad being a gun enthusiast, and teaching me to love them the same way. He was even in the process of renovating an office space to open a small gun shop in Frankfort. Anyways, the shoot was conducted in what would probably be called an over-large storage shed. Big enough for about 15 people, with four shooting from special made window ledges on the one side. It was chilly out, and there was no heat.

I don't remember the score from Dad's shooting that day, just that we weren't bringing home the turkey (1st place prize). We headed home, still feeling good from a good morning of male camaraderie with shooting guns. On the way home, Dad had to pull over to empty his stomach. I remember him saying he thought it was from the smell of burnt gunpowder all morning in that little room - just upset his stomach. Our ride home continued on, and things seemed normal.

Later that Saturday afternoon, Dad was stretched out on the couch, I was in an easy chair, and we were watching some war movie on TV. Seems to come to mind it might have been "Kelly's Heroes" as both of us were Eastwood fans. Dad went into an epileptic seizure. My Stepmother called 911, and I was sent down to help direct the ambulance (we lived in an upper apartment over a business building).

Frankfort, though a county seat, does not have the largest, or best hospital. Even though both my Dad and brother were born there. No determination of the seizure was found. Things went back pretty much to normal... for a few weeks. Then Dad started having some awful headaches. Constantly. Enough it made it hard to go to work (at the time he was working at Frito Lay). After several doctor visits and finally being sent to a neurologist in Indianapolis, in late December, early January, a CAT scan detected the large mass of cancer in his front left temporal area.

Being how I was 12, I wasn't involved in medical decisions, or what was available at the time for treatment. I just knew that by this time, Dad had had a couple more seizures, and what the final result was once detected. I didn't know anything about cancer. Nothing beyond my paper route, school, watching my 1 yr old sister, and helping out at the stepmother's cake store, was in my interests.

Over the period of years, I have found out that the treatment that was decided upon was surgery to remove the mass, or at least as much as was possible. The mass was about the size of a grapefruit, and the doctors were doubtful of removing all of it, as "roots" had grown tendrils further into the healthier brain mass. This was open head surgery, and with little known about cancer, chances of a perfect recovery were next to none. My Sister and Brother were flown in from AZ, just in case Dad didn't make it, and for that last possible visit prior to the surgery.

The surgery came and went. Dad came through with only small complications. An occasional word mix-up in speech that he didn't notice but we did. That, and a hideous looking scar from where they cut his scalp for the surgery. Since not all of the cancer was removed, radiation and chemo therapies were prescribed to hopefully reduce, or even finish off the cancer. He was given less than 6 months to live.

To shorten up the story, over the course of the next 10 months, the radiation treatments made Dad lose his hair, but not his beard. The chemo would literally make him green and be sick for a few days afterwards. I am guessing, the treatments were in WAY higher doses back then, than the way they can give them out now.

He became paralyzed on the right side of his body, losing movement in both arm and leg. Seizures still occurred randomly. My stepmother and I did what we could for "physical therapy" and helped him with bodily duties. His gun shop (located under our apartment) was turned into a bedroom for him, with the old hand-crank to raise the head type bed. a buzzer hooked up to "ring" for us when he needed.

With lack of movement, he occasionally got blood clots in his legs, and would have to spend a week or two in the hospital. Medicines prescribed (seemed like hundreds) and lack of exercise made him bloat up terribly. Finally, around late January, early February, he was in the hospital once again for a blood clot. We came in to visit, and Dad wouldn't wake up. I was sent off to call my grandparents, to have them start down from Elkhart (the hospital we were at was in Lafayette).

Years later, I found out Dad was in a coma, and the doctor did not think he would regain consciousness. Late in the evening, Dad took that last breath and took his leave. I remember sitting there the last couple hours, and knowing the time between each breath was getting longer and longer, until there wasn't another.

Dad was placed in Greenlawn cemetery in Frankfort. He was a Vietnam veteran, having served 1968-69. He enjoyed motorcycles, and had since his teen years. He had had some accidents.

From speculation, it was determined the start of the cancer was from a "scarred" tissue of the brain mass in the left temporal. A result of one of his motorcycle accidents. It had somehow, started to grow cancerous, and became malignant. One possible source was the Agent Orange used in warfare and in the area of service he served. But again, this is speculation. The government denied it all at the time, but in later years have come back and said, it was possible. Can't prove it now....

Dad was 36 when he passed away. Just about 3 weeks short of his 37th birthday. Lived over a full year even after the doctors gave him only 6 months. Words just cannot describe him or his accomplishments. He was so many things in his life. A soldier, a police officer, a draftsman, a business owner, and a father of four.

I miss him still. I love you Dad.