This past Saturday, my dad, a veteran of WWII, Korea, and Vietnam, passed away at the age of 89. He had been in the intensive care unit at the hospital for over two weeks. We were told on Thursday that he would not survive through the weekend. I took my son up to the hospital Thursday night to say goodbye, and we left teary eyed. My son had baseball games scheduled Friday and Saturday night, and I told him he should play in both of them if he felt like it. He played on Friday night and asked if we could go visit my dad when he got home after 11pm. He spent almost an hour in the room alone with my dad. On Saturday mornning my whole family went to the hospital and were told he wouldnt make it through the day. I told my son he should say goodbye to grandpa and go home, and go to his game that evening. Not that I thought baseball was more important, but that a seventeen year old doesnt need to be watching his grandfather die. My son told me he wanted to stay with his grandfather until the end. During the day, he scooted around the room comforting my mom,sister,brothers, and me. He called his coach and told him he wouldnt be able to play that night, that this was much more imortant than baseball, and the coach supported him fully. My dad eventually passed away in the early evening. My son asked if it was alright to go sit in the dugout and cheer on his teammates after it was all over.
I am so proud of the maturity and compassion my son displayed during a difficult time. There is nothing he could do in the world of baseball that could make me more proud of him than I am now.
Original Post
