A little bit over 2 weeks ago, I lost my father. It is true that I do take some comfort that dad had a wonderful life of 82 years. That he went to be with God and live in eternal glory. That he was reunited with his parents and other family that have preceded him. That we did everything we could as a family, to take care of him and help him through his medical issues. That we were there during the last 13 years of his life and literally spent every day visiting him, especially over the last 4-5 years. That every holiday, birthday, family event was jointly celebrated as a united, large loving family with his 4 children and their spouses, 11 grandchildren and 4 great grandchildren all under one roof and usually celebrating it with great food and games of dominoes.
But to say that we are ok with his passing is incorrect. What we would give for just one more day, one more hello, one more hug and a kiss. What we would give for just one more disagreement and frustrated moment, followed by a hug with an apology.
It hurts more than I would have expected. I don’t mean this in a wrong way, implying we did not love him, but that this was completely unexpected and we were all unprepared for what would happen on April 2nd.
You see, we have been taking care of mom, who is in her last stages of Alzheimer’s, unable to respond to our calling, smile when she sees us, or react in any way due to this crippling disease. I can’t say that when mom, passes, it won’t hurt like hell, but we know what’s coming and while we cannot predict what it will be like when the time comes, or when it comes, we know that for 10 years we have been preparing our selves for the fact that this disease is what will eventually take our mother away from us.
But dad was different. His passing was a complete surprise to us. Something we were not expecting or even to be honest, prepared for. He was resilient. He was strong, and had a character that would not let him give up. Yes, over the past 3 months, he was having health issues, primarily with his heart, but dad appeared to be getting things under control. His weight was under control, the liquid around his heart was sort of being managed with the medication. His kidney was ok. Even the sores on his feet due to the last minute bout of gout was being managed. He was walking around with a cane the day before he left.
His nurse had come in and said that his vitals were perfect. How could this be then that we would lose him that day?
We have scrambled to take care of his affairs, execute his wishes, and make sure that we make all of the arrangements to take care of mom, exactly like, if not better than what we did before.
But those moments when we are not in “action mode”, are the moments where we break down, question how could this be. How could the strongest, most stubborn, resilient man we knew, not be here with us? How could the 82 year old that just 6 months earlier, would go walk about a mile or mile and a half, then come back and actually cut his own grass have gone before mom?
The 13 years we had, were the best 13 years of our lives with him. All of a sudden, they’re gone. The memories we were building everyday just stopped. There are no more memories to create. No more dominoes to play. No more baseball games to watch and discuss.
It has left a vacuum in our hearts that makes no sense. A fog that is still with us, that at times looks like it is disappearing, only to come back to leave us wondering, how could this be? The guilt of not having closure since it was sudden and not being able to say goodbye.
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