You might be aware, and you might not, that my daddy passed away on June 27, 2011. This is one of my favorite pics of him and the one we used for his memorial. Even as I type these first few sentences, my eyes fill with tears. This is the reason my blog came to a halt. But this is something I want to write about, I just needed to have a strong day. And maybe a few glasses of wine! Dad has always been sick, off and on. I have more than a few memories of visiting dad in the hospital when I was growing up, or mom telling me he was sick again. I used to get so upset. I remember one time that mom told me she wasn't going to tell me what was going on if I got so upset. How could I not? I don't blame her, but that was my daddy. And I didn't understand. It was always something, his back (I believe he had 13 surgeries), intestinal problems (he had several feet of his intestines removed), knee surgery, shoulder surgeries, collapsed lung, a heart issue...always something. But he was such a trooper and had more lives than anyone I know. God had a plan for him. He was such an inspiration to me and to those around him. He got down, but he always came back. And he always thought of others and his impact on them and how he could help them. He was truly God's pupil. Up until the last few months of his life, he was still asking how he could help out at church. I'm glad I got the chance in one of our last conversations to tell him what an inspiration he was to others and how much others admired and respected him. And how much I did as well. Several years ago, daddy was diagnosed with COPD, a lung disease. His health began to decline and we would celebrate if he went a year without going in the hospital. Then it went to seasonal visits, once in the spring and once in the fall, with pneumonia. He would fight it off and come home, but each visit lasted longer than the next. He would spend weeks in the hospital fighting to breathe and come home. This year, 2011, he had 7 admissions to the hospital. He was hardly home. After a several week stay ( I think maybe 6?), he did come home, and within 2 days, he fell. He had these twitches that would completely throw him off balance and he'd drop things or fall. Well, he fell. And then he lost consciousness. Mom was there and with him, trying to help him. She called 911, but thought she had lost him. Well, she didn't. He was admitted to the hospital and the cause was unknown. They found more pneumonia, which he had just been treated for and he was in for another stint. He stayed about another 6 weeks I think and then was released to a rehabilitation center to gain his strength back. Everyone had decided he wasn't safe at home for himself or for mom. So, he spent about 5 weeks in the rehab center, did very very well, and was released home. He was home for 5 days. On Sunday, he told mom that he wasn't feeling well and was contemplating a trip to ER. They decided to go late that night. Mom called the next morning and told me that there was nothing they could do. His CO2 levels were extremely high and the acid in in blood was too high. He wasn't moving enough air to resolve this issue. He was against ventilators and the doctors didn't think that would help or work anyway. Mom told me he had 1-3 days to live. We packed up and headed home, with our impending move to Atlanta only about 2 weeks away. I was able to talk with dad and he was able to see Ahmad and the kids when we got there. Michael was there too and Matt and his family arrived the next day, as they had been on vacation and had to get home and reorganized to get to NA. They made it too while dad was still alert. Dad asked me why I was there and I told him for him. He asked why Matt and everyone was coming in and I told him because he was sick. He asked if he was very sick this time. I said yes. He asked if this was it, and I told him probably. It was one of the hardest conversations I've ever had. My dad. Over the next 8 days, we watched dad decline. We watched as he became unresponsive to any of us. We waited. It was the hardest 8 days of my life. I had been preparing myself for the loss of my dad for some time because everytime he went into the hospital, I thought, this could be it. Well, I wasn't prepared for this. I think I always assumed I'd get a call and it'd be all over with. At one point, we decided ICU wasn't for dad any longer and we transferred him to hospice. We had actually looked into hospice 2 hospitalizations ago. Or palliative care. And dad decided he wanted to get better and come home. Which he did. But now, I was glad we had done that research and knew our options. He was transferred to a unit across the street. He was very well taken care of. I barely left his side. I stayed the night with him several nights and held his hand all night. He wasn't responsive. We made sure he was comfortable as far as we could tell. That was his one fear-that he would be in pain or know that he was dying. We tried to make sure that didn't happen. I'm pretty sure it didn't. It was the toughest time of my life. I had planned to return home to work and work on the move, when the nurse told me I should stay. So I stayed. It wasn't that day or the next. But I stayed. Finally on Sunday, with a move only days away, I decided to go back to Indianapolis, a 2 hour drive from dad. I worked Monday and dad passed Monday at 6pm. Everyone was there but me. I wish I was. But I know dad would've told me to go. It was such a tough decision. I worked Tuesday morning and then worked on finishing the packing for the move. We got our truck a day early, packed up (that's a story for another post) and headed home. We parked our U-Haul in front of mom and dads while we stayed for 3 days. The viewing was Thursday and I was so touched by everyone's condolences. It was so nice to see people I hadn't for years or to meet people I had only heard about. Dad's funeral was Friday at Our lady of Perpetual Help church and he was buried afterwards at Kraft Funeral Home and Cemetery. After visiting with family that afternoon, we left for Atlanta around 5pm.
I miss my dad. I always will. I think about him every day. I think about what he would say in certain situations or something would remind me of him or a saying of his. He was an amazing person. An amazing father. He was always there for me. He was silly. I sat on his lap and read the bible when I was little. He listened to my woes of childhood. He bailed me out when I got into trouble and told me that we would always handle things as a family. He let me know he was always there for me, no matter what. And that he loved me with all his heart, no matter what. That was the thing mom and dad always told me. And I believed them. And I still do. I know dad is proud of me. I know he loved me. I hope he knows I was proud of him too and that I loved him too. I can't find enough words to express what kind of man he was or all the accomplishments in his life. But, I do think those I mentioned are the most important. He loved his family and we knew it. As a parent now, I can say that is probably the most important thing. Gosh, I could go on and on. I think I have. I'm sure this is something I will come back to again and again. But for now I want everyone to know what a wonderful father and man my father was. He's missed and always will be. I love him with my whole heart, no matter what. I'm proud of the man he was and strive to live my life in a similar fashion. He's my hero.
