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Salvatore John Spera Sr. ( June 30, 1927 - October 14, 1970) was an amazing man. He was a Husband, Dad, Son, Brother, Uncle, Cousin, and Friend. He was a builder by trade but that was a small part of his life. He was a good man, a little stubborn, a little tough, but his family never doubted his love for them.
7 February 2009
As a long time member of this site, I never thought to put my Dad's story in writing. And then the light went on, two days before the anniversary of my rupture. Strange because his picture along with Bill Maples's picture is in my view everytime I work on the site.
My Dad suffered from debilitating headaches for several years. They would be so awful that he would have to stop whatever he was doing and lie down and it could be anywhere. He went to doctors, they told him "Mr. Spera we can't find anything wrong with you, it must be in your head." {you think) . He went to the dentist to make sure that there were no issues there. Nothing was wrong with his teeth or gums.
Then the BIG ONE hit. Saturday night and my parents had been at Mom's class reunion. I was eighteen years old and babysitting for the neighbor's kids. Around midnight the phone rang and it was Mom, I knew by her tone something was wrong. She told me that she thought my dad had a heart attack. She said he couldn't speak and he was vomiting. I said that it sounded more like a stroke. The ambulance finally got there and I was able to run outside to see him as they brought him out. My heart was breaking, here was my strong, handsome Daddy, just looking at me and I saw fear in those big brown eyes.
The hospital called in a neurosurgeon from one of the large Phila. hospitals. He spoke to me and Mom, he said that they were going to do a test, an arteriogram, as soon as he was stable. I asked why no one ever mentioned the test before. He looked at me and said that the test was as dangerous as brain surgery. That one sentence haunted me many years later. Now this was in 1970, no CT scans or MRIs. My dad was in an unconscious state. We had private duty nurses with him around the clock. We waited and on Tuesday night I brought the nurse a sandwich. She was a friend of mine. She asked me to stay in the room with Dad while she ate. My Dad was pulling his hair. I knew right then that my Dad wouldn't last the night. I told Mom to sleep in my room so that the phone wouldn't keep her awake. I knew the call from the hospital would come. At 3 AM , the hospital called and told us to come back quickly. I drove Mom and one of my brothers, my sister Jean stayed with the little ones (there were six of us). We were there within 10 minutes, but they were working on him. At 6 AM they came out to tell us that my Dad had died. He was forty three years old. Mom went home to tell the kids and I stayed while my uncles went and got my grandparents. It was awful, I still remember my grandmother crying that he was still warm.
The night of his viewing was very warm, actually too warm for October in PA. I got to the funeral home and was shocked, there was Dad with this grin on his face. I looked at my sister and Mom and said, "Oh boy, what's he got up his sleeve?" It was that grin that got us thru the night. The next morning, it was so cold and there were snow flurries. That was it, he really didn't like the cold, but he loved the snow, now I knew what the grin was all about.
I told my Mom that day, that I would die at forty five. She gave me this sorrowful look and begged me not to talk that way. But I knew and yes six weeks after my forty fifth birthday I had my very own rupture.
To this day I am amazed by the strength of Mom. She worked hard, she took care of the six of us, which was no easy feat, and she never asked anyone for help.I asked her how she did it and her answer was, "I didn't have a choice, I had six kids to raise." There were many a night I heard her cry when she thought we were all asleep. Today at eighty one she is still amazing.
It is almost thirty nine years and there isn't one day that goes by that I don't think of Dad. He never got be a Nonno (Grandfather) but those kids all knew him!
Susan's Narrative Susan
© Copyright 2009 Susan Spera Weinholtz
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