My grandfather J.Fred Lytle was 96 years old when he died. I used to love listening to him talk about the depression and building his house , cedar grove before Shreveport absorbed it. He made cabinets , beautiful frames, fiddles ( he dubed them Lytlelynns. His wife my Granny was late 80’s when she died either 84 or 86. I would go up to Lytles when my kids were little and chit chat with my Granny. Both of them died at home with they’re family all around telling them , “its OK to go home , we love you and know its your time” we made sure they were clean and dry and comfy and surrounded with love. That is how it should be. Spend your life growing a family with love and respect and rules and you die in the home you have made with all your people around.
My father , David Frederick Lytle , worked his whole life. He left his mark on thecommunity. He helped people whenever he could , heade folks feel comfortable. He was smart , loved to read , and loved to share the information that he knew. Most of the time it was pretty interesting. He made lifelong friends and inspired loyalty in folks. He was my dad so sometimes we disagreed. I loved him and he never held my mistakes against me. He turned 72 this year on August 22. He had end stage emphysema among other things. He was on oxygen 24 hours a day. He was arrested on August 23 ,2016 , some very angry evil people didn’t like it when he would not let them continue to cuss him and steal his food and just make his last years shit. He evicted them and they told the police he molested the 12 year old neighbor girl. My dad had to wheel himself around in a wheelchair and just going to the bathroom right next to his room winded him. He loved children , he was not physically able to hurt a little child and he wouldn’t even if he could. I tried to make sure the guards and nurses at Caddo correctional center were aware of his medical needs and also were aware that he had people outside that cared. He was still denied adequate medical care on several occasions. On Friday November 4th I got a letter from my dads cellmate. He said daddy was different there was something bad wrong with him , he asked me to please come up there because he needed help. I had just been to see my dad on Wednesday and I had to call Kelly the nurse manager as soon as I got home. She felt like it was fine for my dad to be without his oxygen a total of 6 minutes a day. There was no where to plug in his concentrator at the nurses station where he had to go twice a day for a breathing treatment. She said it only took a minute and a half. I told her to hold her breathe for a minute and a half then multiply that feeling by 100 and she may understand how my dad felt. She finally agreed to have an oxygen bottle for him for that minute and a half. After receiving the letter on Friday I called Kelly once again. I said there is something wrong with my dad he needs a doctor. She said she was going to move him to the infirmary. I said well that only took 2 months , thank you. She didn’t mention the doctor. Dr. Nelson is the doc for CCC. He is also at LSU.
I saw my dad for the last time that night. He looked discombobulated. He told me he was sure that 2 of his grandkids weredead. I assured him that everyone was OK that we were worried about him. He looked at me through the glass with a look of disbelief and said ,” I don’t think I’ll make it out of here alive. He died on Sunday , alone in a jail cell. No family no one to even make sure he was comfy. All alone , no one even checked for god knows how long. He was in pain , he couldn’t breathe he wanted free from his tired old body. Not like that though.
Daddy , I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of there. I’m sorry that was the last time I saw you. I love you and cherish the memories.