One of the most emotional things someone will go through in life is losing a parent. It doesn't matter how old you are or how young you are. It doesn't matter how strong you think you are or how many deaths you have already witnessed. It hits most of us in the same way.
On a cold day in October, I was at work singing along with the radio that we had set up in the window next to my work station. The phone rang. My co-worker answered it. It was for me. I got on the phone and I herd my older sister crying. She had told me that Dad was sent to hospice today. From experience, I knew what that meant. This was most likely one of his last days.
My father had been in the hospital for cancer. At the time, I lived in Indiana, but I had came back and forth to Ohio to visit him. In the previous days, he had been talking and laughing. The last thing I herd him say was, "I love you baby." I never knew that those would be the last words I would ever hear him say.
On the ride to hospice, my sister told me he was not talking. She was speeding the whole way there. A close friend of our family said he was waiting on us.
We arrived at the hospice and each family member was taking their turn to have time with my father. It was finally my turn. I walked in and I saw the strongest man of my life, and the only man I've ever truly loved just laying there. He was breathing but he didn't say anything when I walked in. I sat in the chair next to him. I grabbed his hand. The nurses had said that he could still hear me. At first I didn't know what to say to him. Honestly, I think I was in a sort of a shock at the time. Finally I just kept repeating I love you, over and over. At the end I told him he was the best Dad in the world and that I would miss him.
I came out of the room. I sat with the preacher who was going to do his funeral service. He asked me things about Dad or memories that I had with him. Still in a state of disbelief, I told him how funny my Dad was. How in a way, my Dad was like a teen. He'd blare his music, what he would call "real music". When my mom told him to turn it down, he would be like okay, then would come back when she wasn't looking and turn it up just a little. Each time she wasn't paying attention this is what he would do. My dad loved music. And my most cherished memories were with him in the kitchen with his radio and his favorite channel 92.5 FM The Fox. There was so many other memories that I forgot to tell that preacher that day. But that was one that I could come up with in the state I was in.
At some point during the night, we all went into the room where my Dad was. I don't remember where everyone was or how they were standing or sitting. It's kind of a blurry memory. I remember sitting on the end of the bed by my father's feet and my little brother who was 16 at the time, was sitting next to me. I think two of my sister's were on the other side of my Dad on the bed. We sat there and just stared at my Dad. I honestly didn't think he was going to leave us, I really didn't.
We all herd his last breath. It was loud, it was heart wrenching. As soon as he took it, I let out a huge cry. I grabbed my little brother and held him and he held me and we were both sobbing. There was not a dry eye in that room. My Dad was loved by many. I cried for a while after that. I had just lost one of the most important people in my life. I watched my mother lay with my Dad for the longest time. I'd never seen her more sad.
The next day, I spent time trying to look for music for his funeral. I fell asleep while listening to "Paradise City" by Guns and Roses. I didn't want to look for funeral music. I wanted to listen to "real music". I woke up screaming and crying because I was just dreaming about Dad and it was like he was there. The dream was so vivid and real. We were just sitting around a fire, drinking, and talking. And now I woke up to reality. I didn't want to wake up from that dream.
Over the next few days we talk about the funeral, the music, who will be saying what. By the time it came, it still did not feel real. One of my sisters sang, one of them read a poem, and so did I. Us siblings and a some of my Dad's brothers, closed the casket. And it was put in the ground. That was the last time I would ever see my Dad again.
I don't think people fully get over the passing of someone so close to them. They say there are stages of grief. But I still go through multiple ones and it's been six years since my Dad has passed. I think about what I should of said to him, I think about the night of his death a lot, I wonder if he's proud of me, and yes sometimes I wonder if my life is really real, and at times I am still in disbelief.
Since then, I've seen my dad in dreams. In some of the dreams you can tell he knows he is not on Earth anymore, but he never tells me that. I think he just wants me to enjoy my time with him like he always did. I even once saw a glimpse of him smiling in the passenger seat of my car while playing, "real music". I know you're with me Dad.
Above, were the most emotional and heart wrenching days of my life. It is hard losing a parent. Scratch that, its terrible, saddening, and life changing to lose a parent. You will be stuck with what ifs and why did this happen. If this is you, I'm sorry and just know, you are not alone.
Comments
Post a Comment