a year ago i suffered a series of events that turned my world upside down and sent me into a tailspin that i don’t know when i’ll ever be completely out of. a year ago today i was sitting at M’s house. my sister and her family had just come to visit for the weekend and had left after an outing at Waffle House that morning. M and i had been talking about what to pack for the Caribbean, we were leaving that Friday, and we’d just begun watching a movie when my phone rang. i looked at the caller id and knew i had to pick it up because she was probably wondering when my sister was getting back. so I grabbed my phone and answered it as i walked into the kitchen, waving off M who was asking if he should pause the movie (i still can’t remember what movie it was). instead of a “hey notsojenny, it’s mom!” what i got was a cryptic message through the choking back of tears. “i’m at the hospital… with your father…. i think he’s dying.” Just typing it still brings me to tears. i can still hear her voice and feel everything i felt at that moment. M immediately rushed to my side when i began yelling into the phone “WHAT HAPPENED!? WHAT’S GOING ON!?” he then pulled out a chair and pushed me down into it knowing that i wasn’t going to be able to stand for much longer. i remember not really crying, i don’t know if it was shock or what but no tears came right then. as M started looking for flights online I continued to drag information out of my mother, still not fully getting the story. after seeing that i wouldn’t be able to get a flight out until the next day i headed back to my apartment to get moving. as i packed i was strangely calm. i’m a very good packer, usually. i make lists and cross everything off so i don’t forget a thing but I didn’t have time to do that. so i had to make a list in my head and go from there. this day had me more out of my comfort zone than i ever thought possible. i like to fold everything and make it all fit together in my bag like a puzzle. but i started grabbing things and stuffing them into my bag. as i stared into my closet i wondered if i needed a black dress. i’ll never forget that moment. it froze me. Just standing there. staring. not having a clue about the future, about what was going to happen.
i drove for 7 ½ hours straight, crying hysterically. i look back and wonder how i did it because i was so exhausted and i could barely see through the tears. i just kept telling myself that if i got pulled over maybe they’d escort me, even if it was 3 or 5 states away. when i stopped to pee and fill up on gas i didn’t want to get out of my car. i probably looked like a monster with my puffy blotchy face. when w finally got to CT i drove past my mother’s house and straight to the hospital. it was hard to find someone at 4:30am but i got security and they took me to the ICU. after a few hours i went to my mom’s to try and get some rest. within an hour i was woken by my sister calling. ahe picked me up and we grabbed breakfast and headed back to the hospital to sit. by the time my mom showed up my sister and i had already discussed what we would decide to do. my mom made us think twice, letting us know that he didn’t think it was fair when people’s lives were ended by the hands of others. but we didn’t have many other viable options. she called the Dr and he said he’d meet us at 5pm. none of us could sit there and cry or talk anymore so we went to mcd’s to get some food. i hadn’t eaten or slept, neither had anyone else. when we get out of the car i realized we were now a trio of monsters with puffy blotchy faces. after eating the few french fries and a nugget or two we could each hold down, we went back to the hospital to wait. 5:05 no Dr. 5:25 no Dr. he finally showed up somewhere after 5:30. we all stood around the bed and just held onto each other. watching. waiting. the Dr said it would be quick, and it was. but that heart fights, it does everything it can to keep going. i watched the monitor. listened to the rhythm of the beeps get slower and slower and then suddenly very fast, and then stop. watching the life drain out of someone was too much for me. i had to turn my head as it happened. the color of his skin going from pale to yellow to almost grayish.
having the decision to end someone’s life is quite possibly the toughest thing i can ever imagine being saddled with. we all agreed that this was the best way to go. but you just never know. people come back from comas after years, months, days. you never know. other people stay in comas for years, centuries. you never know. i just remember thinking there’s got to be someone more qualified to make this decision. the Dr simply gave us the facts and 2 options. i still with he would have just said “i think the best thing to do is ___. and here’s why…”
the next day i went over to see S. we’ve done everything in our lives together, but i never imagined we’d ever be shopping for a shirt to bury my father in. within 2 days my mom and i were driving to MD to go back to their roots. i remember “in the living years” coming on the radio in the car and bawling. not being able to control it. that song will forever remind me of those days. of him.
i had been irritated that we were having the service outside of where we’d made our home as a family, but it made sense since all of our family was in MD. within the first few minutes of the service i realized why we’d done it this way and i changed my mind. i was so happy for the decision. so many people that knew him as a child, as a teen, as a young professional all with nothing but wonderful things to say. people praising what a wonderful man he was. how he always treated everyone with the utmost respect and affection. it was so fantastic to hear these things. with the recent years being as terrible as they were we’d all completely forgotten the person he used to be. as the three of us spoke to the preacher the day before, we remembered all the wonderful things he did and was when we were growing up (my favorite of these being the cruise nights he took me to every friday. i loved them. i loved that it was something no one else wanted to do and i got to spend that time alone with him. it was our thing. ) people that we’d never heard of had showed up for this day. people who worked for him over 28 years ago. these people that hadn’t seen him in that long andstill thought about him and what a great person he was andloved him enough to attend. it’s a small town and not many people leave so it was packed in that room. it’s a vision that still makes me smile. to give youan idea of how small the town is, the preacher that spoke was actually married to my dad’s ex girlfriend and the funeral director was my mom’s old boyfriend.
a year ago we laid my father in the ground . i was angry. i was heartbroken. i was confused. i was relieved. i was sick to my stomach. not many of those feelings have changed when it comes to this subject. while i don’t believe in anniversaries for tragic events, i do believe in memorializing. i’ll never forget this series of events. i’ll never forget the feelings that went along with them andare still around. as much as i was in the process of completely removing him from my life i loved him. in time he had become someone he was not, he had become powerless to the things that controlled him. but we all know he loved us. he was always the first one to say it. my mother, with concrete walls around her, always let him be the one to say “mom and dad love you” followed by a bear hug whenever we’d part. as much as he tore us apart he was once the glue that held us together. he was terrible at grounding us, he could never stick to it. and if we really wanted something we knew to go to him and not mom. we also knew that the answer was probably going to be “if your mother says it’s ok”. he always had a full head of black hair. it never went gray. it never thinned. no matter what the last thing i said to him was, I Love My Dad.
still i feel like i should have some huge life lesson out of this. i should be wiser on some level. i should have a nugget of wisdom that others don’t have. but all i’ve come out of this with is that shit happens. you just have to adapt.
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i’ve turned the comments off on this. i hate when people do that. butI know that this kindof topic typically elicits supportive comments, even from those who wouldn’t necessarily comment. and this post is kinda’ just for me to get it out. i know that anyone who’s lost a parent can empathize, and those of you that haven’t can sympathize. but i also know that there’s a boatload of support and concern from you bloggers and knowing that is enough for me.
