It happened - ten days after my last post, my Dad passed away. Saying that is still so strange. I get the feeling like I want to stop myself and take it back, but it's true.
My Dad stopped eating and drinking for the most part on February 7th. The last great conversation I had with him was the day before. It was a Tuesday and I almost didn't call. I got off work late, I was tired and honestly the days I called when Dad wasn't feeling well were really hard on me. I had this feeling like I should just call and I'm so glad I did. We chatted for about 20 minutes, laughed, he made some jokes about cremation (always hard to talk about, but he kept it light), we said I love you and hung up. When I got off the phone I had a big smile on my face and felt really good having a fun conversation with him. I didn't know at the time that would be our last truly lucid talk.
Once my step-mom called to let me know he had stopped eating and drinking, I made plans to go up to the house that Friday and spend the night. My Dad loved having me up there overnight so he could tuck me in. It didn't matter that I was 33 years old - I would always be Dad's baby girl so I thought I'd be a big help and have a nice night with him. I knew it could be toward the end, but I didn't really believe it. He'd had bad spells on and off for years and while I knew this was worse than usual, I still didn't really think it would be the end.
When I showed up that morning, bags in hand, I had no idea how bad it was. My stepmom told me he was lying down in bed and warned that he wasn't really aware. I honestly thought she was overreacting a bit until I saw him. His huge 280 lb 6'4 frame was tucked into blankets like a child and he was staring at the ceiling with a blank and glassy look in his eyes. He did have a slight smile, but it's like his eyes were far off and looking at another world than the one in front of him. I immediately teared up as I had never seen Dad like this. The same Dad who had stern talking to's with every neighbor who drove too fast around me. The Dad who literally showed up at the gate on his horse with a gun at his side the first time I brought a boy home. The Dad who made me feel safe and protected even if he wasn't in the same town.
I went over to the side of the bed he was favoring, sat down and in the softest non-cracking voice I could muster, said "Hi Dad." He looked in my direction and seemed to look through me but got a huge smile on his face. I told him how much I loved him and leaned down to meet his puckered lips. We had a very short conversation while I held back tears. I can't remember what I said, but I remember the only words he could manage to muster were "yeah" and "I love you". It's crazy how at the end of life, nothing seems to make sense except love.
1 year and 5 months later:
Writing the experience of my Dad's death was both cathartic and incredibly difficult. Every time I thought of it, tears would run down my face and the knot in my chest would return. Now over a year later, I am able to think about it more consciously. It still hurts. I'm sure it will always hurt, but the pain isn't as sharp as it was in the beginning.
I've had friends who have lost a parent. I would always feel for them, give my condolences and try to put myself in their shoes, but you can't. You really have no idea what it feels like until it happens to you. Losing a parent is like losing a piece of you. It's like a whole part of you floats away and you're left feeling partially empty and like you're no longer on solid ground. Slowly over months and years you start to settled back down to Earth and find your footing once again.
Since Dad passed, I've lived a lot of life in a few short months. My husband and I got married in April 2018. It was a beautiful wedding and somehow tons of fun even given the fact that there was a huge physical presence missing. I could feel Dad everywhere that weekend and my husband did too. He was all around us, from songs that came on the radio, to the entire town's power going out during our rehearsal dinner (Dad was an electrician). He was everywhere, but not having him there physically was still a feeling I couldn't face. I tried to avoid the reality of his absence as much as possible in order to enjoy the wedding, but it crept in repeatedly.
The biggest moment for me was when I was waiting to walk down the aisle. I had chosen to walk by myself because I believed my Dad was walking right beside me. While the wedding party proceeded, our coordinator pulled me to a separate area to wait out of sight. Those few minutes, listening to the music, my entrance song coming on and the big moment ahead, that's when it hit me. I started to tear up when the coordinator came over and said OK, it's your turn. I looked at her with tears in my eyes about to walk and all I could say was "I miss my Dad."
