I am writing this on June 2nd, 2008 and I am dreading tomorrow. June 3rd is a day I wish never would happen, in particular, I wish June 3rd 2007 had never happened. That was the day my father died. A year without my father has been a year of grief the likes of which I could never have imagined. How do others survive this pain and the emptiness that feels like it will consume you?
My father had suffered a stroke in February of 2007. 100 days later after moments of hope that he may recover came the realization that my father would not survive. A ventilator was breathing for him and he could not talk. His organs started to shut down. His hospital care turned into “comfort care” and my mother, my sisters and I stood by him around the clock.
My sisters spent the days with our dad. I would bring my mother over in the late afternoon and she would stay overnight. Everyone was reluctant to leave my dad's side even for a moment. We made sure he was never alone.
There were moments during this time where my dads eyes would open and he had the look of a child, full of wonder and amazement. He would raise his arm and hold out his hand like he was reaching for something…or someone. I had the feeling that someone was there, in particular, I thought my grandfather was there. My father adored his father and that look I saw the few times my father's eyes opened let me see what my dad looked like as a child, the way he probably looked when he saw his father. I asked him, “Is you father here daddy?” His head nodded…yes.
It was Sunday morning, June 3rd 2007, when I left home to pick up my mother from the hospital. As I turned the corner of our block I knew today was the day my father would die, I remember actually hearing “Today he will die.”
I brought my mother back to the hospital later that day. I did not discuss the words I heard so clearly that morning. My sisters left at my mother's urging so they could get some rest and something to eat. As I did every night since my father was put into comfort care I prepared the room for my mother's stay. Getting clean sheets and a pillow for the recliner the nurses had brought in for her; filling a water pitcher with water and ice, getting cups and napkins.
I went to my dad to say goodnight. I took his hand and his eye lids fluttered and in that moment I felt something pass right through me. I don't know if words could even describe it. It felt like a breeze, a cool comforting breeze that went through my body and left me with the most amazing feeling of peace. He was going to die today. I thought about not leaving but then I remember discussions my father and I had about dying. He had always told me that he wanted to die comfortable and with the “love of his life” by his side. I knew I had to leave. So I told my father I loved him and kissed his forehead.
It took me 20 minutes to get home where I found my sisters Jennifer and Sandy talking about our childhood. We were reminiscing and then the phone rang. There was no one on the other end. I hung up and it rang again and again no one on the other end. I hit star 69 and the number was that of my parent's cell number. I called the hospital and my mother got on the phone, “I tried using the cell phone, I couldn't hear anything….bring your sisters.”
We called our sister Lori and told her to be ready; we would be coming to get her. I drove us back to hospital. My mother was waiting at the end of hallway for us. She was sitting and a nurse was with her. Our father had died. Our cries filled the hallway and we made our way to see our dad. My uncle came to the hospital to perform last rites.
One by one we said our good byes and left my father as the nurse had to prepare him to be transported. My family waited in the hospital lobby until I received a call from the funeral director. I remember his words, “Marsi, let your mother know I am with your father, I will stay with him. I will see you tomorrow.” With those words we headed home.
My father did not want a viewing. He never understood the point of a viewing and giving flowers to someone who was gone. My father was cremated and the cobalt blue urn that held his ashes was laid on a pedestal along with his high school senior picture and my parents wedding portrait. Those pictures and many more decorated the funeral home where we held a memorial to him.
Over the months that have passed my family has struggled with life without our father. I wondered about the saying that time heals, I can not imagine time every healing this loss. I take comfort in the fact that my father's last week on this earth was how he had wanted to leave this world-Comfortably asleep with the love of his life by his side.
After performing last rites for my father my uncle said, “Before we were praying for him, now we pray to him.” I remember those words when I have difficult times, times when I need some encouragement, times when I just need some strength. Times like that I say, “Daddy, please help me.” And that cool breeze wraps around me bringing me clarity and peace.
