On The Road Again – Part 3

Spending Time With Family

Daddy

The heart of this road trip wasn’t the miles or the monuments—it was my daddy.

He’s 88 now, and his health has been steadily declining. Type 2 diabetes, severe COPD, near-total kidney failure, a past stroke, and frequent falls that often result in broken bones. I know the end is coming, and it had been a couple of years since I’d seen him—since I’d hugged him. That was reason enough to make the journey.

After dropping Wanda off at her cousin’s house, I pulled into Daddy’s driveway in Dover, PA on Thursday, May 29th. He was waiting for me on the front porch, just like he used to when I was a kid coming home from school.

He looked so small. Shrunk down to 5’2″, barely 105 pounds. I wrapped him in my arms and held him for five full minutes, trying not to cry—because I knew if I did, he would too.

During my visit, I treated him to dinner at a fancy French restaurant. He ordered the rack of lamb and immediately grumbled about the tiny sides and the price tag. I told him to hush—if I wanted to spoil him, I darn well would! I had halibut that was so fresh and flavorful, it felt like a culinary miracle to find it in Pennsylvania. After dinner, we swung by Dairy Queen for Blizzards. Daddy still loves his ice cream.

I also dragged him along to brunch with some old classmates in Perry County. My brother Donnie and his wife Rhonda joined us. Midway through the meal, we discovered that one of my classmates was actually a cousin—66 years and we’d never known!

One day, we took a drive to Landisburg so Daddy could revisit his childhood homestead. I brought him to the cemetery to see his grandfather’s grave—he’d never seen the headstone before. It was a quiet, powerful moment.

Throughout my stay, I cooked dinner for him and listened as he opened up about his regrets. He wished he’d gone further in school—he left after eighth grade to help his mother after his father passed. He regretted not being a better father, and asked if I could forgive him for the times he drank too much and lost his temper.

I told him I’d forgiven him long ago. That I understood. That life was complicated, and he did the best he could. We both fought back tears.

Sweger Family Reunion

A few days before I headed back to Seattle, I organized a family reunion for Daddy’s side of the family. Twenty-seven of us gathered under a pavilion at the local park while the rain came and went. Everyone brought sides to share, and I handled the burgers and hot dogs. Ryan made two no-bake Cool Whip cheesecakes with strawberries under my guidance, and Billy brought enough fried chicken to feed a small army.

I finally met some cousins I’d only known through Facebook. One brought rifles crafted by our second great-grandfather, Billy Sweger—a Civil War-era gunsmith whose work is archived in the William Penn Museum in Harrisburg. Most of us had heard of the rifles, but few had ever seen them in person.

The day was filled with laughter, stories, and connection. No politics. No drama. Just family. Daddy said it was one of the best days of his life.