Sam

I still remember it like it was yesterday.  It was in December of 2006 and I was in the auxiliary gym at Marine City High School, coaching my second year of Varsity Volleyball for the Mariners.  Holly was also there since she was the Freshman Volleyball coach and they were having practice in the main gym.  Kennedy was 4 years old at the time and Cheyenne was 8, and they were also running around somewhere like they did every day.  My phone rang and the call was from my sister.  It seemed very odd to me that she'd be calling me at that time, so I answered.  I knew right away something was terribly wrong.  She was bawling and had a hard time even getting the words out.  What I did manage to hear was something to the effect of, "Dad...has cancer...mesothelioma...it's bad, it's one of the worst types to have...it's so bad."  When I finally put it all together, I realized that I'd heard something that I never wanted to hear again...Dad had cancer.

For those of you from Rogers City, the name Sam Felax is likely one that you've heard and the man Sam Felax is likely one that you knew.  He was everything that a man should be, and he was even better as a dad.  Dad proudly served a tour in Vietnam shortly after high school, then returned home and got a job working at Calcite.  He married my mom in February of 1969 and they started to raise a family in the Polish Town "district" of Rogers City.  Our house was nestled on a dead-end street in the southeast corner of town (I learned later that the "fancy" name for a dead end street was a "cul-de-sac", but trust me...this was a dead end street).  Their first bundle of joy was born in July of 1970...my sister Wendy.  My brother Dennis came along four years later in April of 1974, and then the highlight of their lives happened on the first day of June, 1977.  Yup, that was the day I was born.  (OK, it probably wasn't the highlight, but I like to think it was.) 

Growing up on Lake Street was every kids dream.  Not only was it a dead end road, but there was even a little creek that flowed down by the "turn-around" as we called it, and enough bike trails to make any young man giddy.  There were kids to play with, rocks to throw, and the people were as friendly as they came.  We were within shouting distance of the ice rink in the winter, and a very short bike ride away from the Little League fields in the summer.  Mom and Dad Felax did it right, that is for sure.

My dad was the largest influence on my life from day one.  He did everything that you expect a good dad to do for his son and then some.  The thing that I remember most is the fact that he is the one that got me started into baseball.  Those of you that know me well (and maybe not even that well) know that baseball is my passion in life right behind my wife and my kids.  Actually, I might even put it slightly above my wife, depending on the day.  My dad constantly worked shifts at "The Plant", but he somehow managed to coach all of his kids in Little League at some point or another.  In hindsight, I can remember him switching shifts to midnights (not a favorite shift of most people) so that he was able to attend our games and practices.  Many days he would come directly from the plant to the field, decked out in his work boots and all.  From an early age, he also instilled the concept of hard work and solid values in all of the kids.  I still remember many of his "sayings" that I still use today with my own kids.  "Anything worth doing, is worth doing right" is one that I use the most:)

In addition to being a huge influence on the lives of his kids, he was also one of the greatest grandpas on the face of the planet.  He had a special bond with his first grandson, Travis, right from day one.  Travis was his little buddy and never left his side.  He would take him everywhere, but they spent most of their time out at the camp.  Then along came the rest of his grandkids, and he treated each and every one of them like they were as special as they were.  Two of his grandchildren technically were married into the family (Noelle and Cheyenne), and he treated them with the same love and compassion that he did to every other one.  When Kennedy was diagnosed with CF, it hit my dad pretty hard, and for some reason he developed a very special bond with her as well.  I can still remember when he was sick with the cancer, he would take his pills at the same time as Kennedy just to go that extra mile to make a connection with her.  The kids just loved their papa, and rightfully so.

Several years prior to that fateful call from my sister, Dad had surgery for prostate cancer and he kicked the shit out of it.  Shortly after that, we almost lost him in a near-tragic tractor accident that would have killed a lesser man.  But he survived and lived to harass the hell out of us for several more years.  So when I received this call, part of me was totally devastated, but another part didn't believe this cancer would be able to kill him.  After all...he WAS Superman.

I called home later that evening and my mom answered the phone.  She said that dad was too upset and didn't want to talk to anyone.  I said something to the effect of, "Bullshit, just put him on the phone", so she did.  I just talked to him like it was any other day, but I could tell he was upset.  He was more upset than I ever remember him being, so for once in my life I felt it was my responsibility to help him through this hard time rather than the other way around.  We traveled north shortly after that for Christmas and had a great time.  Dad was getting weak and losing a lot of weight, but he was still dad.

I had no idea what we would do at this point, but my sister took the bull by the horns and started making calls and writing letters.  She ended up getting Dad in for an appointment with a world-reknowned doctor in the Boston area by the name of Dr. Sugarbaker.  When it came to mesothelioma, this guy was the one you wanted to see.  It was his specialty and even though he was a VERY busy man, whatever my sister had to say to him must have struck a chord, because he made room for Dad.  For those of you that don't know, Mesothelioma is a cancer that is caused by asbestos exposure...I'm sure you've seen those damn commercials.  After his visit with Sugarbaker, it was determined that Dad would go out to Boston within a month or two and have a rather drastic surgery to remove one of his lungs.  The cancer had grown quite large and in Sugarbaker's opinion, the only chance of surviving this was to remove the lung entirely and hope for the best. 

The day before we flew out to Boston was simple insanity.  As luck would have it, Kennedy was getting admitted into Mott Children's Hospital that day for her "tune-up" as we like to call them, and she would be there for at least a few days.  Holly was already in Ann Arbor for an appointment and Kennedy getting admitted was not expected, so the chaos began.  I was in school and had volleyball practice immediately afterward, but I had a TON of work to do after that.  I went from practice to our home in Port Huron to pack not only my bags for Boston, but I also had to pack clothes and supplies for Holly and Kennedy in the hospital.  When I was done with that, I had to drive back to Marine City to meet with a guy that was going to take over my volleyball team while I was away.  The meeting took a couple hours and I remember leaving his house some time around 11 or 11:30.  From there I drove to Ann Arbor to drop of the supplies for Holly and Kennedy.  I got pulled over on the way for speeding, but when I told the officer what was going on, he just wished me luck and sent me on my way.  I left Ann Arbor around 2 or 3 AM and headed back to Metro Airport to catch our flight.  So in one day, I went from Port Huron to Marine City to Port Huron to Marine City to Ann Arbor to Metro Airport.  Needless to say, when we arrived in Boston I was ready to sleep!

Although we were in Boston for all the wrong reasons, we made the most of it.  We learned how to use the subway and went sightseeing in downtown Boston.  The highlight of the trip for me was when we went to Fenway Park and took a tour around the stadium.  Seeing the "Green Monster" in real life was just awesome for me.

The day of the surgery came and we were all on pins and needles.  Dad was cracking jokes right until they took him back for the surgery, and mind you this is no minor surgery.  We waited and waited, just hoping for the best.  A couple hours later, we got a page and were told to meet in the consutation room with Dr. Sugarbaker.  We were in the room waiting for him and for some reason I had a bad feeling about what we were about to hear, although I didn't dare share those feelings with anyone else.  Unfortunately, it took only one sentence out of the doctors mouth for me to realize that my feelings were true.  Dr. Sugarbaker walked into the room, and while I can't remember the exact words, I believe the first thing he said was something like, "We couldn't get it out."  What happened was that the tumor had grown and had actually connected to the wall of his heart.  He said they could have tried to cut it away, but there would be a good chance that he'd bleed out on the table.

When we first got a chance to see Dad after the surgery, it was actually very humorous.  He was coming off of some heavy anesthetics and he was loopy as hell.  When my mom walked into the room, the nurse said to my dad, "Do you recognize her?".  Dad groggily looked at mom and with a straight face, he told both the nurse and my mom that he'd never seen her before in his life.  The nurse looked concerned and my mom looked scared as shit, then dad cracked the tiniest of grins and we knew he was back to normal (actually, I think he really pissed the nurse off, but it was worth it).  Then he started talking about Dr. Sugarbaker's boat.  We were asking him what the hell he was talking about, and he kept saying that Dr. Sugarbaker invited him onto his yacht and he was supposed to go back on it.  We thought he was messing with us again, but it turned out that he was dead serious.  He later told us that while he was under the anesthesia, he had the most vivid dream of his life about being on the boat.  As a matter of fact, I'm convinced to this day that even after he recoved and came home, a part of him still believed it really happened.

So back to Rogers City he went, and from that point forward, things got significantly worse...and they got that way fast.  Since Mom was around him and tending to him every day, she didn't see the decline in his condition, but I did.  I made it up north as much as I could and as time went on, it was appearing more and more apparent that he wasn't going to be able to beat this.  I can remember one visit in particular where I had a chance to talk to Dad one on one in their living room with no one else there.  He was very emotional and said he was just scared of leaving us kids alone and missing his grandkids.  That was very hard to hear, but I tried my best to put his mind at ease.  I can remember telling him with tears in my eyes that he had nothing to worry about.  He raised all of his kids the right way and it was BECAUSE of him and mom that he didn't have to worry.  I told him that I had grown into the man I was today because of his guidance, and I told him I loved him for it.  He then broke down (seeing your dad cry is NOT an easy thing) and said some things that stuck with me to this day...some things that I learned valuable lessons from.  I remember him saying, "I'm lucky.  I'm just so lucky.  I'm 61 years old and I've lived a good life."  He broke down even more when he said, "I knew guys in the military that never saw their 20th birthday.  They never got a chance to get married or ever have kids.  Some of them had kids and never had a chance to meet them.  I'm lucky to have lived the life I've lived."  I bawled right along with him and gave him the most meaningful and heart felt hug that I've ever given anyone.  He was dying, yet he was telling me how lucky he was...and I remembered that lesson.

Early in July things got much worse.  I noticed that he was getting VERY ill and he was very emotional every time we visited.  I think he knew what was coming, but he battled to the very end.  I had made a plan to come up in a couple of weeks, but then I got a call from mom around the 17th or 18th of July telling me that Dad's condition was getting pretty bad.  I changed my plans and told her I was coming up on Friday of that week, which was the 20th of July.  But then in the early hours of the morning on Thursday, July 19th, the phone woke me up...and I knew what I was going to hear.  Mom was on the other end of the line and she was much calmer than I had expected.  She simply said that Hospice was at the house and they said he only had a couple hours left.  I called Dennis and we made a plan to meet at his house and then drive up together.  It was one of the longest trips of our lives.  We talked a lot, and it was mostly about Dad.  We kept wondering if we were going to be too late to say goodbye because it sounded like we probably wouldn't make it.  The drive from Dennis's house is about 4 hours, so the chance of him making it until we got there was likely slim.

While we drove up, dad eventually lost conciousness but was still alive.  Mom just kept telling him that the boys were on the way.  He couldn't answer, but he held on.  He fought.  He battled.  When Dennis and I pulled into the driveway of Dad and Mom's house, there were vehicles everywhere and our Aunt Connie met us as we got out of the truck.  "You guys better hurry, he doesn't have long."  We walked into the house and walked immediately to the front room where Dad was laying in his hospital bed, and he looked nothing like the man I remember making me the man I am today.  There were a lot of people at the house, but in the room with Dad I only remember Mom, Wendy, Russ (Wendy's husband), and Dad.  It was very quiet in the room and the ventilator could be heard every so often as Dad took shallow breaths.  We walked up to him and surrounded him on the bed.  We all told him how much we loved him and how much he meant to us.  We told him that he did his job and did it well, and it was time for him to go.  "Just let go, Dad...we'll be ok."  And within 15 minutes of Dennis and I walking into the room, Dad took his final breath.  That stubborn old sucker held on for over 5 hours, but once he knew his boys had shown up and the family was complete...he let go.

That day the world lost a good man.  The city of Rogers City lost a valued public servant.  A man that was the President of his Union at Calcite, the President of Little League, a City Council member, and a member of so many other committes that I couldn't possibly mention them all.  My mom lost a husband and my siblings and I lost our dad.  Even more imporantly, that day I lost my hero.  I lost a man that taught me everything I know about how to be a good man and a good dad.  But although a lot was lost that day, I also gained a new respect for life and for the role we all play in it.  Even in death, he continued to teach me lessons...and for that, I am eternally grateful.  My dad left a legacy that made me proud to be his son, and if I can be half the man that my dad was...I'll have one hell of a legacy of my own.

Until next time....