Wise Things

Stuff my Dad said when he was letting go

My father Thomas Driscoll was often a formal man, but never a snob, a church going, devote person who accepted all people for who they were and was decades ahead of his time in many ways, accepting all races, sexualities, ethnicities and only shaking his head in dismay when ignorance swirled about. He tried his best to stay aware and observant in a rapidly changing world. I am only now realizing how extremely difficulty that wise position is to maintain.

As the year ends and I reflect on the fact that he died five years ago this week, I’d like to share a few of the quips he made as his mind was fully awakened and body slowly stopped working.

While hanging out with him and my dog Millie and watching the BBC in 2018 we reeled for a moment over nonsense being shared by the leader of the Free World I asked him, “Dad what do you think is wrong in the world now? Things are really unraveling” he thought for less than a beat and said, “I think that no one fears going to hell anymore.” Sounds deeply true to me today, a certain fear of behaving in an evil manner would benefit many, because to do the right thing for its own sake is an extremely lofty human state, an unattainable one for most of us.

In another precious moment I asked him how he was able to manage all the challenges of his long life, especially the impact of caring for several family members with serious mental illness. He nodded and said. “I learned to have no expectations and to be happy when things were peaceful or when people did act well.” Some serious Zen master wisdom from an old Irish Catholic patriarch.

Wisdom is said to be knowledge plus experience, and I am grateful to have had the quiet and profound time with my father as he faced the end of his life. His greatest wisdom was openly talking about and accepting his imminent death, even quipping about it at times. We would say prayers when he was partially paralyzed and fully dependent on care, a situation that again, he had to accept despite a life of always dutifully caring for others. One day after saying the rosary (one of his meditative comforts) and at the end he looked upwards and said, “I am 89 now Lord, anytime will do.”

Sadness still mingles with my gratitude for being able to learn how to face the end of life from my father. I only hope I can make the best out of the constant challenges of acceptance and the happiness that comes from managing expectations. I think I will give it another shot today.