A year ago, I reached out to Hospice of the Piedmont, one of our local organizations, to offer some of Dad’s original artwork for whatever purpose they felt it would best suit. (If you haven’t read some of my previous posts, Dad passed away in the Randolph Hospice House. It’s located in Asheboro, NC, the town where he was born and raised, and is an affiliate of Hospice of the Piedmont.)

The chief administrator kindly suggested that it might be best for me to wait a bit before giving away the pieces and to reconnect with him in the coming year to discuss it more.

At first, I was slightly disappointed in his response, but after yesterday, almost exactly a year later, I completely understand why he suggested what he did.

And here’s why.

About a month prior to his passing, Dad shared with me that he wanted to leave some kind of “legacy” through his art. While I wasn’t terribly interested in hearing about things he wanted me to do after he departed, I could feel how important it was to him. At the time, though, I wasn’t ready to get into specifics because, well, I had too many other things on my mind – like making sure he was taking his pain medication and resting as comfortably as possible. And that he was able to use the TV remote so he could watch his favorite shows.

But mostly because talking about it forced me to accept the fact that the end of his life was quickly drawing near.

So I continued to keep those paintings in my house, occasionally passing by them and stopping to gaze at the choices of subject matter and colors used. Two paintings, in particular, always stand out to me.

One was of two children, playing in a creek. He called it “Creek Kids”. He had told me that the two children were him and his best friend, Jane, playing in the little creek next to the church on Cliff Road, just across the street from his house on S. Elm. He always talked about how much he loved his “Elm Street Gang”, but Jane has always held a special place in his heart.

I learned how deep their friendship was when she came to visit less than a month before he passed. As I was entering his room for my daily check-in, they were saying their goodbyes… the significance of what I was witnessing slapped me upside the head, and I tried to back away quietly to give them privacy. I saw Jane gently touch his arm and correct him with a sweet, tearful chuckle, “It’s not ‘goodbye’… it’s ‘I’ll see you a little later’.”

The second painting was of one of Dad’s favorite childhood adventure spots – “Billy Goat Mountain”. I had always known it by this name but learned in the past year that it is actually called Dave’s Mountain, located just off Highway 73/74 and Presnell Road.

Over the years, Dad told me stories of climbing the fire tower at the top of the mountain and childhood dreams of one day working with the forestry service. In 2012, he revisited those days in a painting called “Billy Goat Remembered”. When he moved into the assisted living facility, the first thing I placed on the wall was that painting. I positioned it so that, no matter where he was in that room, he could see the tower.

When we learned that dad had stage four metastatic lung cancer, he asked me to try and “get him back home to Asheboro” to live out the remainder of his life. Despite best efforts, I wasn’t able to do that until the very end – on Saturday, January 27, 2024, the Randolph Hospice House had a space available and was able to accept him. He was made comfortable around 4:30pm, and at 3:46am, less than twelve hours later, passed away peacefully in his sleep.

Several months after that, I asked to have a tour of the Hospice House, as I wasn’t able to be there in the short time he was there before passing. It was late afternoon, and walking to my car to head home, I was stopped in my tracks.

Perched high above the treeline was his beloved fire tower, standing watch over the Hospice House. In that moment, I was certain that when Dad arrived there that Saturday afternoon, his spirit knew he had made it back home.

Yesterday, almost a year to the date, I reconnected with the chief administrator of Hospice of the Piedmont to revisit my initial offer. And I told him “thank you” for suggesting I wait a year. We agreed that Dad’s artwork will be donated to help raise funds for the Randolph Hospice House at their annual auction event this fall.

In the past year, I’ve learned more about the importance of having long-lasting friendships, cherishing memories of special places and times, and finding purpose and meaning in our lives. Dad found meaning in the memories of his childhood and love for his hometown, and they were shared with others through his incredible artistry.

And his wish to leave a legacy will be honored now. And in doing so, he has also helped his oldest daughter to find new purpose and meaning in her life.

What a difference a year makes.