At almost this exact time last week, I was on the phone with one of my best friends telling them my father has passed away. Chad and I have been friends since 1992, our fathers graduated from high school together and our grandmothers worked together...so yeah, he kind of knows our family. He was as stunned as the rest of us. It seems so odd to say Dad's death was unexpected, but it truly was...at least right then. He had been released from the hospital the day before. I had talked to my mom in the middle of the day Thursday, and she told me Dad was having a great day. He had awakened on his own, and was up and moving around more than he'd been in quite a while. My mom went in a little before 7:30, and Dad was non-responsive. She called the squad, thinking he had lost consciousness. We were in the middle of parent teacher conferences and I had at first, ignored her call. After all, Dad was having a great day. When Andrew's cell phone then rang I knew immediately it was awful. At that time she thought we should probably meet her at he hospital. I told her I'd go home and drop Andrew off and come up. I called her as we were leaving the school and she said she couldn't talk and would call right back. She called ten minutes later and choked out my name then said, "He's gone." I remember saying, "What? What happened?" She said she didn't know if it was a stroke or heart attack, she didn't know. I told her we'd get things together and I'd be up there as soon as I could. She said to bring the kids, and since it is about a 75 minute drive and already nearly 8:00, it was evident they weren't going to school the next day.
I know that we were all pretty much in shock. I think Andrew and his mother, when he called her, were the ones that cried the most. I know with certainty that I was numb...I was in crisis plan mode. My family needed me and I was going to come through. Not even the kids cried. I'm not sure I understand that necessarily, but at the same time this has been an inevitable fact of life for them since they've been able to remember.
In spite of my sadness, there are so many things for which I am grateful. Selfishly, I am grateful Dad didn't die in a hospital. I know it had to be awful for my mom, but I am grateful that he passed right there in his own bed, and even though Mom wasn't right there she was nearby. There were no outward signs of trauma to his body, and we are all grateful that his passing seemed to be peaceful. I am grateful that it happened last week and not this week. As it was it was too close to Thanksgiving. However, by then, another week will have passed and I am grateful we didn't have funeral and holiday all in the same week. I am grateful that the last visit we had together was full of much laughter. I am grateful that he hung on long enough for the kids to be situated in their new schools. They are settled and comfortable and have their own support systems there. As absolutely bizarre as this may sound, I am grateful that he didn't hang on until January. As tough as the holidays are going to be, in my heart I truly believe it would've been worse knowing that we were celebrating and he was to weak and sick to join us. And more than anything, I am incredibly grateful that he is no longer suffering. He fought valiantly for 17 years. He recently had told Andrew that his doctor told him that he had lived longer with this disease than anyone in the country. He fought everyday to enjoy life, and on most days I think he would tell you he won.
There will be a few more posts in the next couple of days about Dad, but many of them will be, I hope, uplifting. We have been surrounded by an unbelievable support system, near and far. I have truly, truly, truly, been amazed at it all. I am so proud of my Dad...he touched more people's lives than I even knew!
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