Saying good-bye to my father

"I love you, pop."
"I love you, too, son."
   The last words exchanged between a father and son.

As a long-time newspaper writer, I knew that some day I would be writing my dad's obituary. A day in May, 2001, was that day. I said good-bye to my 81-year father three days before he died.

Tom Sniffin Sr. was being treated for an assortment of ailments at Boulder Community Hospital. When Nancy and I left him Friday, May 16, he was just coming out of an experimental procedure to put a device into an artery in his neck.

Although he appeared to be doing well, his condition regressed over the weekend and was near death from brain hemorrhage. We got the phone call on a Monday night that he was unconscious and slipping fast. My sister Sue Kinneman from Green River met me in Rawlins and we drove down to Boulder together.

My mom and four of my eight brothers met us at the hospital. We got there at 5:10 a.m. and dad died at 5:30 a.m. Ironically, my mother said that she had told dad we were coming down from Wyoming and she was sure he hung on long enough for us to say good-byes.

* * *

The first time I saw my dad cry was when I was 13. His dad (my grandpa) had died and they were having an old-fashioned wake in the living room of my grandparents' home in Wadena, Iowa.

The place was a beehive of activity and there in the middle of it lay my grandpa in his casket. Suddenly, we heard a loud sob and then some anguished crying. It was my dad. He was kneeling in front of his father and he said, "What am I going to do without you?" His huge shoulders were trembling as my mother and my grandmother rushed over to console him.

He and my grandfather were business partners and were great buddies, besides being father and son. He was devastated by the death of his best friend. What my dad saw back then in 1959 is what my brothers and sisters and me saw a year ago this month as our past slipped away from us forever.

* * *

My dad and mom lived in Lander, Wyoming, from 1978 to 1991 and made a lot of friends here. What kind of man was he? I would say he measured up pretty well if you note the unconditional love given him by his wife Betty for nearly 60 years. It takes a heck of a man to deserve that kind of devotion.

My dad was an Irishman. He had freckles and always a twinkle in his eyes and a great sense of humor. And especially in his old age, he had become the perfect grandfather figure. He was so caring. He could tell you exactly which of the kids or grandkids were travelling and he would monitor the weather and say prayers to get them safely where they were going.

The ultimate family man, my vision of him is seeing him asleep in his favorite chair with a little baby also asleep on his chest.

* * *

My father was blessed and this family has been blessed. He carried his rosary with him at all times and he always said he was praying his kids home from every trip. Our family held his funeral in Lafayette, Colo., and then held another burial service in the little missionary church in Wadena, Iowa, in July. More than 100 old friends gathered to join us in saying good-bye.

· * * *

Dad always worried about the weather. On that sunny day in July, the temperature barely climbed above 70 degrees. Perfect temperature for a funeral in a small, stuffy church. We're sure he had something to do with it.

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Authorized by William C. Sniffin
Contributions or gifts to Bill Sniffin for Governor 2002 are not tax-deductible.
Bill Sniffin for Governor - P.O. Box 900 ­ Lander, WY 82520 (307) 332-3111, ext. 17