Memorial Day is the American holiday that honors service members who have died in military service to the nation. There are parades, testimonials and many events that pay rightful tributes to our brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country. Besides all of these honors, folks take time off from work to enjoy ballgames, barbecues, weekend trips and other forms of leisure that come with our freedom.
As much as I enjoy the extra day off, the whole Memorial Day weekend brings back a difficult memory for me. It happened thirty years ago, back in 1993.
A week before the holiday, my father Ken Kahler suffered a seizure while at a grocery store. He was brought to the emergency room and given a quick once over before being released. My dad was referred to a neurologist and had a full check-up appointment set for the Friday of Memorial Day weekend.
Pop rarely got sick and my sister Mary, a long time nurse, took him to his check-up. He was to undergo a CAT-Scan and other tests to see what was going on. With her experience, Mary would be dad’s medical liaison and she sure shined in that role. Dad appreciated her assistance.
I turned down a chance to go to a Cub game with friends that day because I sensed something serious may be happening. Sadly, I was right.
Later that afternoon dad and Mary returned home and we waited for an update on the results. Mary took the call from the doctor and my mom, dad and I waited in the living room. The news was beyond awful. Dad’s seizure was caused by a brain tumor that metastasized from his lungs. It was called an Oat Cell Carcinoma. It also spread to my father’s adrenal glands and it was terminal.
MANY YEARS AGO, THIS WAS MY DAD FEEDING ME.
This cancer was due to my father’s forty-year cigarette habit. He quit smoking with nicotine patches a few months before this diagnosis but it was way too little and way too late.
Mary was calm yet had tears streaming down her face as she also shared that the longest our dad had to live was Christmas of 1993. Maybe. Dad had a stunned look on his face and mom and I were a puddle of sobs.
The immediate plan was for dad to be hospitalized and undergo treatment for the next two weeks. Chemotherapy did little to stave off the cancer and he came home just before Father’s Day. Ken Kahler was resigned to the fact that his days were numbered and he was incredibly brave and together while we offered all the care and support possible.
The amazing folks at Hospice of DuPage helped dad throughout the next several weeks and he passed away on August 15h, 1993 at the way too young age of 58. To show how strong my dad was, the symptoms of all that cancer did not manifest themselves until he had that seizure in May. Less than three months later he left us.
For me, the worst day was not when dad passed. By then, he was comatose and slipped away as easily as possible. We were all as ready as you can be for his death. No, the ultimate awful time was that Friday before Memorial Day when his death sentence was revealed. We all made the best of what time pop had left but knowing his mortal clock had little time left was as sharp a dagger stab as you can imagine.
I doubt there’s a day that goes by when I don’t think of my dad and miss him the same with each thought. There are plenty of great memories to dwell on but it doesn’t replace him being gone.
ONE OF MY FAVORITE PHOTOS OF MY DAD.
So, as we honor those military folks who died while serving our country this weekend, I will raise a drink to them, but also, I’ll have another drink and remember Kenneth Robert Kahler. I love you pop, miss you always and someday we’ll see each other again.
NEXT BLOG- Everybody back in the water!