I feel the need to write about this now. At the time it was too new, too weird and too surreal. My dad passed away suddenly on December 22nd, 2013. Days before Christmas. It was so many things, and a lot of words that come to mind don't seem to do it justice.
He was at home the evening of Friday, Dec 20th, after work, and not feeling well. He called my mom but she was at her part time gig and didn't pick up her phone till she was getting ready to come home (she just started working at a funeral home as an event hostess - of all the weird things). Well, when my dad did talk to her, he told her that he was not feeling well and that it felt like the minor heart attack he had when he was 40 (he was 55 at this time) and that he was going to call an ambulance to come get him and take him to the hospital to get checked out.
When my mom got home from her job, the ambulance was in the driveway. My mom parked next to it and her, my sister and my dad were talking and even joking before they took him to the hospital. My sister is still living with them (in their new townhouse since last March). My mom and sister followed in their car while my dad was transported via ambulance to the hospital.
When they got to the hospital, they took him in right away and checked him out - it was necessary that they needed to do an immediate double bypass on him ASAP. So they did - my mom called me just before this - to let me know what was happening. She said that it was a 6-8 hour surgery and that I didn't need to come to the hospital at that time since they wouldn't know anything until after or during the surgery if things went really bad. So we asked if she was sure, if she was okay - reasonably so, or if she needed anything or wanted us there. She said no - get some sleep and she would give us an update if anything during surgery happened or the next morning (Derick and I were supposed to be driving to Medford, WI that next morning to spend Christmas with his family).
So, we went to sleep and got up the next morning (12/21 - Derick's birthday) waiting for any news from my mom and sister - they spent the night at the hospital. We didn't do a whole lot - we called Derick's family and said that we would not be coming home to Medford for Christmas that day as we were waiting on an update on my dad. My mom called and said we should come to the hospital - he wasn't doing well. It is moments like that when the world seems to stop. When the world and all its happenings become non-important.I felt my heart in my throat as I scrambled to throw a few things into my purse for the ride over to the hospital.
Derick and I headed to the hospital (North Memorial) and he wasn't doing too well that morning - he was being kept alive by a lot of machines and was pretty much unconscious, in a sedated coma-like state for the entire time. The nurse team (who was AMAZING by the way - the day crew that weekend = Michelle B, Amy S., Cecily M. There was one rockstar from the night crew who was pretty much in the room caring for him by herself- Mari (Mary)) told us to talk to him. Man that was hard. When I approached his bedside, I couldn't even get any words out. Seeing him there like that - all wires, a breathing tube down his throat, I couldn't even form a sentence for a few minutes while the tears started to flow.
We stayed there the whole day on Saturday, December 21st- as family trickled in an out of the "family waiting room area" that we inhabited our weekend we spent there.
My Grandma - my dad's mom
Uncle Dan - his brother, Aunt Gail, cousin Nathan
Aunt Beth - his sister
Debbie and Neil - family friends
Pastor Steve - from their church
Pastor Joel - from their old old church
Uncle Dale, Aunt Marilyn
Cousin Craig
Cousin Keith
Cousin Liz and her son Shane
Pastor Steve was amazing through everything. He came to the hospital time after time, and stayed with us and offered us some great words. He just has a peaceful presence, which helps in times that suck as much as those times did.
My dad actually "rallied" and was cut back to 1/2 of all of the meds doses and his blood pressure was getting back up to "normal" by the end of the day - so we were all feeling really optimistic by the end of that evening. At about 5pm, we all decided to head home and get some rest. Man - I remember feeling that hopefulness- he could pull through and make it! The nurse team and the surgeon were talking and the nursing staff even said, "he might just be our Christmas miracle." and the surgeon replied, "Yes, I think you might be right!"
Derick and I headed home and tried to relax - then we went to bed about 10:30pm and had just fallen asleep. My mom called us at 11pm saying that the hospital called her and he was not doing well and it did not look good. So, we packed up some stuff - a little more prepared this time (i.e.: backpack, fleece blanket, etc.) and headed over to the hospital again. Dad was really not doing well at all. We spent the whole day there from about 11:30pm when we got there - over the night and into the wee-hours were the worst.
Much of that day was spent in exhaustion by all of us. At one point, Derick kept track of my mom, sister and my sleeping schedule and monitored our "rounds" of keeping my dad company - at least one of us at all times. You could see my dad struggle. He was in so much pain during the first few hours of the night. That was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to see. There was absolutely nothing that I could do but sit there and wait. The closest thing I can compare it to - was like they say, it feels like you are stuck in a bad dream that you cannot escape from nor wake up from.
We tried to keep it light and talk and laugh with each other that day- I think for others just as much as ourselves.
I remember wondering how long we would wait - would it be hours, days, or weeks or more until he made a decision to fight his way out of this, or he would get worse and we might have to make a decision. I asked my mom what her thoughts were on how long we would need to "wait it out." She said she didn't know and asked if I thought we should ask the nurse team.I said I would just like some answers, so we asked. And they told us. They said that they would be taking a run of tests in the afternoon to see how quickly his organs were shutting down. They had already begun to shut down at this point,but the test results would indicate how quickly that process was going, therefore, perhaps giving us a glance of how much time he would have left.They said that chances were that he was not looking good at all any more and that he was not going to make it.It was just a matter of time now. With that news, we broke the news to my younger sister in "our" hospital family room. We all cried together at the realization that we would be losing our dad. Then we talked about things that my mom wanted to do - finish the cabin, and other things.The truth of the matter is, that if he could have come back from all he had gone through in those few days, he would have come back in a poor state of health. That would have mentally and emotionally killed him, and all of us around him.
I never really thought that my dad would die until he was lying there, dying. I held this picture in my head, like most of us do - both parents living well into their elderly years. That, paired with the fact that he had already lived through so many things in his lifetime, already - it astounded me when I thought about it - cancer at age 17, radiation, struck by lightning, the most rare form of Lyme's disease, mis-diagnosis, slow decline of his ability to walk without assistance of canes or finally, a wheelchair. I wasn't ready to let go - but are we ever? There was so much in life that he hadn't lived through. So many things that I would get caught-up thinking about after the fact that we hadn't done this, or he hadn't taught me, or he hadn't shown me how to...
More people came to see him that day.He was so sedated that he hardly ever moved.
All three of his bosses -one boss and one boss's boss and even one former boss:
Kevin Connolly (current boss)
Kevin McIntosh (boss's boss)
Grandma- dad's mom
Curt Miller (former boss)
Nicole - coworker in the quality assurance area
Uncle Dan - dad's brother, Aunt Gail and cousin Nathan
Neil and Debbie
Aunt Beth
Peggy and John Alquist - friends of my parents from a former church
It was around 2pm that he officially died. My mom, Derick, Uncle Dan, Aunt Gail, Nathan, Debbie and Neil were all in the room right when it was happening. My sister soon joined us.
I remember and will remember those minutes for a long time. I remember looking over at each person in the room. Their grief and what their faces were going through. I didn't cry much the entire time. Don't get me wrong, I had my moments for sure during the events of the weekend. I just seem to process things differently than a lot of my family does.
After he passed, a woman from the hospital came in to officially pronounce him dead. The nurse team said that they would then "prepare him" by making him "look more like dad again." They would attempt this by taking all of the tubes out and away, etc. We waited a long time until we could see him. It wasn't him who was lying there. He had gotten so puffy from all of the fluids they had been pumping into him, that he really just looked like a Michelin man version of the man I once knew. That was weird too - seeing his body like that. We all took our time and said goodbye. My mom leaned over and kissed his lips, and said "they taste like mint!" "I will miss those kisses the most of all." I know I lost my dad, but I cannot imagine losing a spouse - your partner in life. Your other half literally of everything in life that you do.The good times and the not so good times.
Things seemed so weird after that.I almost wanted to keep staying at the hospital in the waiting area some more - like maybe if I waited longer, they would say that he was awake and I could see him.I am not even sure that is really it, but I was torn between what I wanted and thought and felt that I wanted to do.
During all of the time that he was in the hospital, it was weird, but I felt a sense of calm almost all the time - like I could feel the prayers of our friends and family around me. It was comforting to the point that I did not lose my shit in public. That, dear friends, is a dish best served for me at home, alone, or at least at home.
The rest of time after that went by in a cold, hazy, weird blur.
I did not realize just how much there is to do to arrange a funeral.
Pulling photos and making boards for the visitation/funeral, we also decided to make a photo slideshow video for the visitation and funeral as well.
We had to meet to pick out the casket and flowers and other items for dad. That was weird but actually a little fun as well for all of us - thinking about all of the things that he would have liked if he had to choose, almost like a test of how well did we know him.
The funeral home was beautiful and very welcoming. It was actually the one where my mom was working part time. They were so nice. Here is the link to the website and my dad's link.
First, was the casket. My mom and sister walked right over to the typical metal-caskets. Derick and I hung back, looking at the wooden ones. I couldn't get over the fact that the wooden ones just seemed right. I told my mom and sister this, and they looked at me all confused, like the thought that he could/should be buried in a wooden casket never occurred to them. In the end, we did go with a pretty wooden one with detailing on the edges. Since he had a love of woodworking and natural woods. It just fit.
The Visitation (12/27) was awesome. Seriously. There were so many people that came to pay their respects and almost my whole team came to see my family. It was held at the church my parents went to.
It is always interesting to me to see the different ways that people react and interact at these kinds of events. We had the gamut. People smiling with good stories and memories of my dad, to those crying and hardly able to hold it together. With bone-crushing hugs. Always the bone-crushing hugs. Lady is 95 years old and she could turn you to dust.
We had decided to show the tribute slideshow video that night as well (originally we had just planned on showing it at the funeral the next day. But my mom loved it so much, she wanted more people to see it that would not be there the next day for the funeral). There was also a memory sharing section of the evening as well. That was really neat - to hear stories of my dad and what people recalled of him. Ski patrollers wore their red ski patrol vests and jackets. I think that was probably one of the coolest things that I remember from that night.
It was a pretty long night of talking, laughing and tearing up, but it went by rather quickly.
The next morning (12/28) was the "big day." I had been dreading this day because it is so final. Like, all of the closure, reality and gravity of the situation and loss coming up and slapping the shit out of your face. We got to the church and prepared ourselves for the events of the day. First there was an hour dedicated to the visitation before the funeral began.
The funeral came and went. I don't remember what all was said because I was having more of my own rendition of remembrance in my head. Memories, photos, music, the fun, interesting and mundane activities and time spent with my dad over the years.
Watching the casket go into the hearse was more closure as well. It was good -just the family. We made our way outside - even in the cold weather. From there, we headed back in for lunch. My grandma had the meal catered from the Lookout - known locally for their broasted chicken and sides.
After we attempted to eat and socialize at the same time, we made the drive to Amery, WI to where my dad would be buried. We got a beautiful day at the site. man - sunny and a tad warmer that absolutely frigid. I wore flat shoes - and a lot of people commented about how i could be wearing them -i must be freezing. Honestly, it was a reminder that I could feel things. All of the past week, all I really felt was numbness. The funeral was hard, as I expected. Again, it is interesting to see how people react here. Some snap photos, which seems weird to me. Some wear tinted glasses the whole time = tearing up in semi-private.
The drive back home felt like an eternity. I remember feeling so empty the whole drive back. It's almost like a very small piece of me was ripped out and buried with him that day.
Between his death at the hospital, there was Christmas. Man, that was strange. We still gathered at my mom's townhouse and opened presents. We even exchanged the gifts for my dad and opened them, my mom holding them up to the sky and saying, "see honey, what we got you?!"
My dad was usually a later Christmas shopper - but had already purchased one thing for my mom - a set of a new book series that she had wanted. When I was unwrapping one of my gifts, a figurine from the Willow Tree Angel series "Promise", my mom told me that it was in fact my dad that got that one checked off the list. It was actually a nice night. I have a feeling that next year will be harder for all of us.
Through that time, Derick and I saw my mom and sister every day. It had become a facet of life that we all seemed to lean on. Depended on. Needed. Even if it wasn't for anything really special, or even directly to things that needed to get done for the visitation or funeral, but just that togetherness as our world was unraveling.
Since all of those events have ended and life has continued moving forward, I think I have done pretty well in my grief. I have my moments, where it weighs on me so heavily, but then others where I feel it but it goes away and then comes back, like a slow throb or an echo into a cavernous pit. Like I have said from the beginning, it will be hard for all of us, but for me, it will be the little things, the "stupid things," as I have deemed them.
It's those thoughts of, Hey! I should call my dad and tell him this, or ask him this!
or like I said before, getting hung up on the won't's - the things that I didn't get to experience with him and that now, I never will. I think that is the hard part - it just leaves a hopeless, empty, voided feeling. It's hearing the opening song from his tribute video we made while working at a store with my manager that almost took my breath away.
I thought to call my dad's voicemail at work and record it - since that was the only place that I knew where his voice lived. I have come to find out that it has been a huge relief to my mom and to my uncle, his brother in times of their grief as well. I have only been able to bring myself to listen to it twice since I recorded it. I am so afraid I will forget. I do not want to forget anything.
I will get through this - I will grow to mend. This I know. I love something that I saw right around time he passed away:
H.O.P.E.
Hold On Pain Ends
I keep looking at this all the time. It is true, but I am not at the end yet.
So, I guess I will end this post with,
Dear Dad,
Thank you for teaching me the things you have which have shaped me to be the person I have so far become. You have made a positive impact for so many and I hope the stories keep coming in to remind me. You will always be my dad, and I, your little girl. I love you,
Laura Elizabeth
