My Earliest Memories, of My Father

The Day My Dad Died

My earliest memories include memories of my father, William Knowlton Vaughan, who, according to various sources, died on August 30, 1966. According to my Utah Certificate of Live Birth, I was born to William Knowlton Vaughan by Merle Mortensen, at the Cooley Memorial Hospital, in Brigham City, Box Elder County, Utah, at 7:42 a.m., on Friday, October 5, 1962. I had yet to celebrate my fourth birthday when my father died, but I have several memories of him while he was still alive.

Personally, I think my father died on Monday, August 29, 1966, based on the stories my mother told of his death, and my memories of it. According to her, he was given a tour of the school for boys where he was going to start teaching the following week, after a weekend. But he died before he could go to work the next week. The school year was probably going to start on Monday, August 29th, but he died before he could go to work that day. However, my mother refused to accept the fact that her husband was dead. The day after the day that I remember as the day of his death, people kept coming to our house all day. The neighbors came. The Mormon Missionaries came. I think the police came, and a doctor. My mother told me that she had asked a neighbor to come over and look at her husband, to see what could be done for him, and the neighbor informed her that he was dead. She refused to take the doctor's word for it that her husband was dead. She insisted on waiting until the Mormon Bishop arrived to pronounce him dead. All this probably happened on the 30th. He was probably already dead on the 29th.

My mother has told me that I seem to remember multiple days or weeks as one day, but I remember the day my father died, of a cerebral hemorrhage. I remember seeing blood dripping from his eyes, ears, and throat. His pillow was soaked through and through with blood, when my mother took it out of their bedroom, like an over-sized sponge. Bill, my father, was unable to swallow the water or grape juice that my mother served him in a little, blue, plastic cup. She became alarmed, and sent me outside to play with my kittens. I had two "Minx" or Manx kittens; one was black, and the other, orange. As I sat playing with them on our porch, I sensed that someone was watching me, so I looked up. There was a window in the upper part of the door, and I could see my father smiling down at me. My mother was trying to force him away from the door, but he was still too strong for her to overpower him.

I'll probably never forget that look on his face. I knew that he was happy, and I knew that he loved me and my mother.

Finally, he allowed my mother to escort him away from the window. That was the last time I saw him alive.

This experience taught me a valuable lesson:  If you live a good life, full of love, you can die happy.

Miscellaneous Memories

The above is a re-telling of the story by the same subtitle I wrote for my father's biography, which includes other miscellaneous memories of my father. 

One memory of my father which I neglected to mention was the day I obtained my two Manx kittens. My father took me to visit someone who had a basement full of Manx cats, about half of which were black, and the other half, orange. As I remember it, the basement seemed to be a carpet of orange and black cats. I was told to select one kitten of each color, which I did.

I have no recollection of my kittens after the time I was playing with them while my father smiled down at me, through the window in our door. I imagine that my Uncle Sid had my mother return them to the people with the others in their basement.

I suspect that my interest in cats was sparked by an encounter my father had with a bobcat. I remember sleeping between my parents when we heard a cat growling. My father rose to investigate, and informed us that it was a bobcat.

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Memoirs of William Mortensen Vaughan