Wouldn’t you know it, the store was closed when I got down there to Dinsmore that day back on Saturday, August 24, 2013.
I hadn’t planned on that. I’d hoped to get in there to grab a couple of snacks to take over so that we could watch the Rider game with a few refreshments.
That didn’t turn out to matter all that much because when I got there to see Dad, he had a drink and a bowl of strawberry ice cream to himself. It turns out the health care staff in Dinsmore think nothing of spoiling their residents, too. They even had Dad dressed in Rider colors with a t-shirt, and I soon saw that a number of staff members were also decked out in team merchandise.
Apparently, Dinsmore is very much ‘Rider Country’.
Dad had been in the facility in Dinsmore for maybe a couple of weeks at that point. The poor guy had been shuffled from Outlook to Dinsmore, then back to Outlook, then down to Elrose for basically a cup of coffee before finally landing back in Dinsmore, a place where we felt the most comfortable having him under the care of some amazing staff.
It wasn’t even that Dad actually had anything wrong with him, at least not from a disease standpoint. The truth was that Jack’s body was just shutting down on him; an 80-year old frame that had seen a lifetime of hard work and demanding labor to ensure that his loved ones had food in their stomachs, clothes on their backs, and a roof over their heads.
Jack Ruttle’s body was just plum tuckered out.
I sat down in the chair next to him in his room in Dinsmore and we watched the Rider game on TV. We weren’t the only ones, as I could hear the game on a handful of other TVs in the facility too. Every long run and good pass resulted in a loud cheer. Every touchdown resulted in even louder cheers.
My dad and I talked while I was there, in between first downs and field kicks. About life, about things going on at work, about things coming up in the family, such as my sister’s 25th wedding anniversary that was set to be celebrated over the upcoming Labor Day long weekend. I told my dad about the recent trip to Las Vegas I’d been on during my summer break from work. He mentioned that it had to be “hotter than Hell” down there in August, and I sure didn’t disagree. We talked horses, horse racing and some of his memories on the circuit. For the first time in a long time, I saw a glint in his eyes as he looked back on some of his most enjoyable moments in his long life.
The game soon ended (the Riders beat Edmonton 30-27, by the way) and it was getting to be supper time for residents. I wheeled Dad into the dining room and said hi to everyone else coming in. Dad had his meal set down in front of him and it was time to say my goodbyes until I’d be back down to see him again.
“How about I shoot down on Monday after I’m done work?” I said.
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he replied.
Dad then stuck out his hand and I shook it. The guy may have been 80 and in failing physical health, but my old man’s meaty paw could still rival that of a bear. I left him to his supper, turned around, and left the building.
I just never knew that that day would be the last time I’d speak to my father. Jack died that Monday morning, hours before I said I’d be back down after work.
But we don’t know, do we? We don’t know how long any of us have on this earth. Life has a way of carrying a question mark in that sense. We have no way of knowing how long we’re going to be here, so we need to make the days, months and years count.
Dad would’ve been 87 this past week, and I guess his birthday makes me a little reflective each year.
But my dad’s physical decline let us know that the end was somewhere in the cards soon. Tragedy, on the other hand, can give us a very sharp and heart-wrenching reminder that our lives can end at the drop of a hat, regardless of age and state of health. That was the case last Friday night when the life of a 44-year old Conquest man ended in a horrific snowmobile crash. Now a family is left to pick up the pieces and an entire community is mourning. Rest easy, Brad.
Death has a terrible tendency to remind us how precious life really is. It’s up to us not to take any of it for granted.
For this week, that’s been the Ruttle Report.
