My father, Aubrey Fuller, passed away on Thursday, February 23. He went to the Emergency Room a week earlier with dizziness and shortness of breath. He was diagnosed with lung cancer. His decline was swift and shocking. I couldn’t believe that, within the span of two weeks, my dad went from being perfectly fine, to feeling weak, to labored breathing, to barely being able to move or speak, to … gone.
I still can’t believe it.
I grew up knowing I wasn’t my dad’s favorite child. My
sister, Lori, was the first born. My brother, Chris, was the first son. Dad was
obsessed with sports, and Chris was always better than me at baseball and
basketball. Some of my dad’s fondest memories were coaching Chris’s teams. Up until the very end, he could recite baseball stories in vivid detail
from over forty years ago.
But something changed when we moved to Louisiana shortly before
my twelfth birthday. Because they were both adults at the time, Chris and Lori
stayed behind in Cincinnati, so it was just me and my parents for those three
years in Shreveport. I was a shy kid. Making friends—especially in a new
state—was hard for me. So my dad and I became buddies back then. He bought a
boat—nicknamed the green weenie because it was small, and well, green—and we
fished together on Cross Lake. He bought me a set of golf clubs and we played
our first hole together at a par three course. I hit a 5-wood that landed just off the green.
I wish I had.
We moved back to Cincinnati in 1991 so I could attend the
same high school my brother graduated from. It wasn’t a prestigious school or
anything, but the area felt like home and that’s where I wanted to be. In order
to relocate, my dad had to accept a job transfer to Dayton, Ohio. He commuted
over two hours every day to work second shift in a General Motors factory.
He did that for me because my dad always chose his family.
I’m sure he hated his job. I’m sure he hated that drive. And I’m sure he complained about it. But I never heard the grumbles. He just worked hard and supported his family and gave his children opportunities that he never had growing up without indoor plumbing in Hazard, Kentucky. The same town where two of his uncles were shot and killed while playing poker.
Of course, he could drive his family crazy. He was stubborn. My dad was never wrong a day in his life. Thankfully, no one else inherited that trait. (Okay, maybe a little.) And even though we had to scream in order for him to hear us, he refused to get a hearing aid. His opinions were problematic in the way that many older white men’s opinions are problematic, but I watched him soften over the years as he learned to embrace people over stereotypes. While so many others in his generation became more hateful in their later years, my dad chose love.
That’s because, for all of his flaws, Dad had a huge heart.
Especially for a man from an era when men weren’t encouraged to share their
emotions. He adored dogs and cats, treating them like his babies. And he
sacrificed so much for his family. Maybe Dad was selfish—everyone is to some
degree—but I’m not sure I ever saw him act selfishly. He worked a physically
demanding factory job in order to support his family. He worked overtime.
Worked second shift. He coached our baseball teams, babysat grandkids, and helped
many of us financially, even though he had very little to give. He offered
people a place to stay when times were tough, even though Mom and Dad didn’t
have the square footage to spare in their small apartment.
One quick story: My mom, brother, and I met at the funeral
home to make final arrangements. After we exited the building, a woman approached
us in the parking lot. Their Frisch’s Big Boy waitress—where my parents ate
breakfast nearly every day—heard Dad passed away, tracked us down at the
funeral home, and brought my mom flowers and a few of her favorite foods from
the restaurant.
Dad made friends wherever he went. He was a character. Truly
one of a kind. People loved him.
Aubrey Fuller loved coaching baseball, playing golf, going
to the casino, and rooting for the Cincinnati Bearcats (the last thing he ever
did was watch UC’s basketball team beat Temple from his hospital bed).
But, most of all, he loved my mom. And he loved his
children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and all of the pets we had along
the way. He sacrificed for us so we could have a better life than he did. My
father wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man. And a great dad. A lot of people
are going to miss him.
We already do.