Today I went to a Life Celebration for our dear friend Ron Milligan who passed away last week at the age of 69 after a 13-year battle with a form of Parkinson’s disease called PSP (Progressive Supranuclear Palsy). He outlived the expected timeframe of 5-7 years from diagnosis by double!
Ron played a big role in our early lives here at the farm in Hilliard. I believe he and Jeanne may have been the first neighbors on the dirt road to stop by and talk to us after we moved here in June 2005. Ron became a good friend and mentor to me for all aspects of rural living; and he was always there (with his beloved dogs) with a tool, advice, and encouragement on numerous repairs and projects.
We enjoyed cookouts at their place on the river, and many rides in the ski boat and even a moonlight cruise in a pontoon boat where we saw tons of alligators. They graciously allowed us to use their canoes and dock; and I can think of several birthday parties, and 4-H activities there. And when you had your horse camps for kids, swimming at the river was a regular part of the daily activities.
There was one memorable 4-wheeler adventure when we all (including the dogs) rode down the long dirt road to Kings Ferry to survey the flooding after a late summer hurricane. Sasha was so tired we had to carry her home on the back of one of the 4-wheelers!
Ron became interested in the horses through you, and you tried to get him to take some riding lessons, but he wasn’t a very patient student. He eventually ended up getting a couple horses of his own and kept them on his property down the road.
When Ron first got sick, he used to ride up and down the dirt road in his electric golf cart to check on his horses and would frequently come up to our place for a visit. It was hard to watch as his physical condition worsened; and then the visits stopped. We would see him out and about sometimes, and he would tell us of his most recent fall or injury. I remember every time we saw an ambulance on our dirt road we would think of Ron and wonder if he had had another fall.
He loved our Gran Hall bread, and I would routinely set aside a loaf to take down to him and Jeanne. In the last few years, occasionally Jeanne would call and tell us to come down and get some grapefruits from their tree. We would see Ron and be shocked by his deteriorating physical condition while knowing that his mind was not impacted by this terrible disease. You could tell he understood every word, but he had trouble speaking. At first, you just couldn’t hear him because he spoke so softly. And then, it became more of a mumble as his ability to speak was robbed of him. But you could always see the life in his eyes, a smile on his face, or a shaky thumbs up.
Sadly, those visits became less frequent, and we didn’t really have much contact for the last few years. When you got sick, it seems like you went down to see him and told him, but I’m not certain about that. There was one last time near the end that we went down to get grapefruits and visited with him. And then our world got smaller and smaller with your treatments and decline, and we didn’t see him again. Shortly after you died, Jeanne stopped by the house. We hugged and cried over fighting the battle and losing our spouses. Her marathon was so much longer than ours!
It was deeply heartwarming to hear the testimonials of the five speakers and the pastor at the service. All spoke of Ron’s steadfast character, loyalty as a friend, and generosity with his time, knowledge and expertise, and his love. He touched many lives including mine. Honestly, I realized that I consider him my first and dearest friend from this phase of my life in Hilliard. I will miss him; but I rejoice that he is no longer suffering from the pain and debilitation of his earthly body and is now free to cruise around (probably with his canine companions) making his rounds in Heaven. Say hello to him for me, please!
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