Published: April 16, 2008 03:09 pm         

THE WAY I SEE IT: Being strong can have a price

My father was perhaps the wisest man I have ever known. He never raised his voice or his hand. He was a card-carrying Kentucky Colonel, tall, slim and with the bearing of a British cavalry officer. My problem was with his age. My father was 50 years old when I was born. For the first several years of my life, I felt cheated. We never played baseball or basketball together. In fact, I never saw him without a white shirt, necktie and three-piece suit. By the time I turned 10, I had come to my senses. I realized just how lucky I was to have a grown man for a father.

Hardly a day goes by that I do not quote my father to someone. He would say, "If you would teach a dog to do tricks, you must begin by being smarter than the dog." Over the years, I have had the displeasure of meeting some people who were not smarter than my dog. He would cringe whenever he heard a woman swear, even though swearing in my early years was not even remotely close to swearing today. He would always say, "Well, they know all the words, but none of the music." Everyone knew exactly what he meant.

One of his common statements was, "There isn't one of us who is going to get out of this thing alive." I remembered those words at Christmas 2005 when I lost my wife. The loss came very quickly. She had worked for 14 years in the banking business and never took a single sick day. When she took that first sick day, she was gone in 14 weeks. My loss has been irreconcilable. Try as I might, I could find no way to lessen my pain, or even bring some sense to this tragedy. Today, I may have stumbled upon a positive message. I hope that this rings true with those who need it.

My wife was very beautiful. To prove I am not exaggerating, I carry a picture in the pocket over my heart. I show it to anyone who will take a moment to look at it. When they ask, "Why would a woman who looks like this marry a man who looks like you?" I always respond, "We had a drawing and she lost." She was tall, slim, blue-eyed, a real blond, brilliant, beautiful, artistic and gentle. She was very, very gentle. But, that was the problem. I never realized just how strong this gentle lady really was.

I lost her to lung cancer. No, we didn't smoke or hang out in smoke-filled saloons. Her bank was smoke free. Still, she contracted lung cancer. But, she never complained. If she had only complained sooner, she might still be with me today. Unfortunately, I never realized just how strong she really was. By the time she sought medical care, she had 31 tumors throughout her body. A few months earlier, we could have excised the small growth in her lower right lung, gone into chemotherapy or radiation and saved her life. Her outward gentleness belied her inner strength. But, there is a moral to this.

If you, or a loved one, or a friend, is facing a potentially fatal condition, do not try to tough it out. Under those circumstances, there is absolutely no reward for being strong, stoical or secretive. There are people around you who need you and love you. There are family members and friends who want you to live. You must let them help you survive.

Robert Evans Burnette is a Crossville Chronicle columnist. His column is published on Wednesdays.