Today’s story is written by Amanda Phelps, who lost her father Joseph Vize one year ago. Julie Duval reads.
My Dad, who loved to golf, loved KY basketball, often went deer “hunting” but never took his gun, retired from Ford Motor Company, the best father, husband and Grandfather anyone could ask for. You need something? Take his or he would get it. You need help with something? Give him and time and you paid with a hot breakfast. He was the epitome of what a Dad truly was. When I moved to Texas, with two children, to meet my husband for his job change, he drove the 25 hours with me, moved me in and would only fly back to KY when my husband was there & he knew we were safe and sound. Hardest worker yet you could often find him “napping” while watching Gunsmoke Most days. “Perks of retirement” he would say.
Covid took him from us. He first was sick November 24, 2020. Only gastrointestinal issues, we suspected Covid but he “wasn’t that sick”. Went to the ER, sent home with Immodium. 4 days later, I had to call 911 as his O2 was below 70. Straight to Jewish hospital, he tried and fought for a week to stay off the vent. He was so scared and alone, I will never be able to thank the nurses who were there we we couldn’t be.
December 10, he was placed on the vent. It never helped. He went downhill fast and the early morning of December 18, his deceased mothers 95 birthday, we watched via a zoom call as his machines were turned off, the vent stopped and the moment he took his last breath. Thank God for the nurse who held his hand. My nieces were allowed to be there as they both are nurses in Louisville. They gently spoke to him as he transitioned to heaven. No more pain, struggle or Earthly sorrow. It has been 147 days. I miss him so much but take comfort in knowing I will see him again.
Dad, we can never tell you how much you are loved and missed. Until we meet again!