And the dophins came to give him a sendoff
James Bailey was a great man. He came to stay with my sister after his live-in lady friend Myra, who was suffering from diabetes, had to be put into a care home. Jim was starting to suffer the early signs of Alzheimer's and needed to be cared for. Myra passed away in the care home, but Jim was able to go visit her from time to time while she was still alive.
My sister Sharon took him in, along with his dog Lucky, and he became part of our family. His daughter adopted us like brother and sister, and many times we brought Jim up to her house in Sonora for a holiday meal and we were treated like family.
Jim's disease progressed slowly, but there were many days of clarity that amazed us. He would tell us stories from his military days, or his youth while living in San Francisco.
And then, there were days when he just could not remember. Sometimes he asked when we would be taking him back home to San Francisco. He lived and worked there as an ironworker on the Golden Gate Bridge when it was built. He had a great memento from the Ironworkers Union when he retired, a piece of bridge cable mounted on a little plaque. He also had a very cool picture of him at the Presidio with his military graduating class.
Some days it was very sad. When his dog passed away due to a prolonged illness (he had gone blind and deaf and could not be cared for any longer), he would forget and ask where Lucky was. We would tell him, and he would cry as the memory came back. Then ten minutes later he would forget and ask again where his dog was. This went on for many days. My sister had her own dog Clancy, and eventually Jim accepted him as Lucky. Then when Clancy developed a disease we had him put down also, the cycle started all over.
He had difficulty remembering who some people were, but for some reason remembered me right away, and always teased me about my beard and shaved head. Every time I came over to visit, he would ask me if I had forgotten to shave. I always grinned, rubbed my shaved head and stroked my full beard and said No, I think I got it just right. Most days he had a good day.
He would carry on with my sister, with sometimes crude humor. But he was fun to be with.
He was with my sister for 6 years.
In the end, a bacterial infection got him. He passed swiftly, so swiftly that I was unable to get to see him, and even his daughter missed his passing. She was out of town and unable to return. But her husband Jerry was there to see him, as well as my sister Sharon.
His wishes were to be cremated, and have his ashes scattered along with Myra’s in the San Francisco Bay.
Sharon, his daughter Shawn, her husband Jerry, my partner Larry and I went out on the Neptune Societies boat The Naiad on April 18th at noon time. We got out just past the Golden Gate Bridge, read some words and poured the ashes over the side of the boat. Sharon had brought some flowers from her beautiful garden, and we threw them overboard, to float with the ashes on the water. Then, as if on cue, a pod of dolphins arrived, as if to escort Jim and Myra to King Neptune’s realm of the deep. A fitting tribute to a wonderful man.
After we arrived back on shore, we had a nice lunch and remembered Jim Bailey. He was 92.
My sister Sharon took him in, along with his dog Lucky, and he became part of our family. His daughter adopted us like brother and sister, and many times we brought Jim up to her house in Sonora for a holiday meal and we were treated like family.
Jim's disease progressed slowly, but there were many days of clarity that amazed us. He would tell us stories from his military days, or his youth while living in San Francisco.
And then, there were days when he just could not remember. Sometimes he asked when we would be taking him back home to San Francisco. He lived and worked there as an ironworker on the Golden Gate Bridge when it was built. He had a great memento from the Ironworkers Union when he retired, a piece of bridge cable mounted on a little plaque. He also had a very cool picture of him at the Presidio with his military graduating class.
Some days it was very sad. When his dog passed away due to a prolonged illness (he had gone blind and deaf and could not be cared for any longer), he would forget and ask where Lucky was. We would tell him, and he would cry as the memory came back. Then ten minutes later he would forget and ask again where his dog was. This went on for many days. My sister had her own dog Clancy, and eventually Jim accepted him as Lucky. Then when Clancy developed a disease we had him put down also, the cycle started all over.
He had difficulty remembering who some people were, but for some reason remembered me right away, and always teased me about my beard and shaved head. Every time I came over to visit, he would ask me if I had forgotten to shave. I always grinned, rubbed my shaved head and stroked my full beard and said No, I think I got it just right. Most days he had a good day.
He would carry on with my sister, with sometimes crude humor. But he was fun to be with.
He was with my sister for 6 years.
In the end, a bacterial infection got him. He passed swiftly, so swiftly that I was unable to get to see him, and even his daughter missed his passing. She was out of town and unable to return. But her husband Jerry was there to see him, as well as my sister Sharon.
His wishes were to be cremated, and have his ashes scattered along with Myra’s in the San Francisco Bay.
Sharon, his daughter Shawn, her husband Jerry, my partner Larry and I went out on the Neptune Societies boat The Naiad on April 18th at noon time. We got out just past the Golden Gate Bridge, read some words and poured the ashes over the side of the boat. Sharon had brought some flowers from her beautiful garden, and we threw them overboard, to float with the ashes on the water. Then, as if on cue, a pod of dolphins arrived, as if to escort Jim and Myra to King Neptune’s realm of the deep. A fitting tribute to a wonderful man.
After we arrived back on shore, we had a nice lunch and remembered Jim Bailey. He was 92.