At 80, my father suffered a massive stroke that left him partially paralyzed, unable to speak, swallow, remember or walk. His diagnosis was devastating and the prognosis was poor. After weeks of hospital and rehabilitation care, he was sent home. I moved in to care for him. There were so many sleepless nights. For 80 years, this man was a vibrant, active soul who helped everyone he came in contact with. It was heartbreaking to see him reduced to an invalid.

I arranged for him to receive physical, speech, occupational, and swimming therapy four hours a day, four days a week. After many months of therapy and visits to doctors, he began to feed himself and speak in short sentences. His memory, as well, began to return. He worked so hard and so long to achieve what he considered such small steps. But, in my eyes, they were major accomplishments.

On the first anniversary of his stroke, I sat down in front of Dad and asked, “What in life have you not accomplished or wished to do?” His response was, “See the Iditarod dog race and to see the aurora borealis in Alaska.” I asked him so many questions, testing his memory and competence.

“How long ago was it that you had last flown?”
“Forty years, before jets,” he replied.

Well, I called some friends in Anchorage and asked them how ignorant would it be of me to think I could push a wheelchair around Alaska the first week of March. “Come on up,” they said. “The streets are clear, the weather’s cool, the scenery’s breathtaking and you’ll remember the festivities for a lifetime.”

That’s all I needed to hear. With every penny I had in savings, I took my father to Alaska. It was the least I could do for the man who raised three children alone and had gone without so much on so many occasions.

It was a significant undertaking, but I got to see this vast and beautiful state through his eyes as well as my own. He got to see the Iditarod, flying in a small plane to see the dogs pulling their sleds on a frozen river. He viewed the northern lights from Chena Hot Springs and fed a baby musk ox in Palmer. With help, I carried him onto a boat in Seward for a day on Resurrection Bay, where bald eagles, seals and playful otters abound. He met author Aron Ralston, and had him autograph his book, Between a Rock and a Hard Place. I took him to every museum and float-plane lake, and we discussed WWII history at Attu and Kiska.

He blossomed, for he had to explain to everyone at home what he saw, where he had gone, and the adventure he had experienced.

It is an honor and a pleasure to care for this gentle soul. I have learned more about patience, love and undying devotion than most people will acquire in a lifetime.

Tammy Skinner, Athens, GA