The night my Father died

 Do we ever really appreciate our parents? I mean I think I had a much better appreciation after my daughter was born but… did I ever really tell my father how much I appreciated him, how much I loved him? And when I say that word, love, what does that really mean? Well I’ll leave those questions yet to be answered.

I got a call from Linda. Dad was in th hospital he has had a stroke. It’s not good. Moms not good. Can you come home?

I don’t remember getting the flight or anything about it but when I walked onto the floor and towards the room George, my cousin’s husband grabbed me in the hallway. His eyes were red. There was anguish in his face. He clutched me as if to prepare me and I needed that more than I knew. The sight of my father was frightening. His body was contorted , his jaw slackened and ajar, his tongue untethered. He was unconscious. He was breathing with a heavy rasping yet steady sound. He was my dad. But he was not dad. My mom was frantic. She was overwhelmed with grief and fear. Where is the doctor? Where is he? I can’t stand to see him this way. I could just put a pillow over his head…. A nurse heard those words. She did not know my mother. She did not know my father. She did not know me. But when she heard those words she inserted in a warning tone, we have no doctor Kovorkian here. I felt I had to say, I felt I had to do something. I knew that mom did not mean those words literally. She loved my father more than 50 years of marriage could ever explain but she did not want to see him suffer. She did not want to see the man that she loved and married and made the father of her children. She did not want to see him with his strength and his dignity abandoned. I did what I could to calm her. To support her and to say I understand. I did understand but I also read the gravity of the moment in the eyes of a health care provider who was sworn to protect life with or without its dignity. I turned to the nurse and explained my mothers distress and that her words were not said or meant to be taken literally. She seemed to understand. In awhile the doctor did come by and asked if we were ok and if dad appeared to be in any distress. We assured him that all was ok given the circumstances and he assured us that dad was not in pain but if at any time he was that he, the doctor would tend to his needs.

I think linda took mom home and then returned to stay with me and dad. Linda and I went down to the cafeteria and had a coffee. We talked. We cried. We tried to figure out what all of this would mean. What would become of us. Of mom. Linda is here in New Jersey. I’m in South Carolina. Many thoughts and words and emotions. Many questions. Not many answers. 

I stayed with Dad while linda went home to get some sleep. I stayed by my dads bedside. I talked to him. I told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for being such a bratty kids at times through all the years. I told him how I tried to grow up and now how I had become more like him in so many ways. And then I found a piece of paper and a pencil and I started writing down my memories of me and dad. I remember how he would come home at night from work. He walked up from the bus stop so his face and hands were cold. I was watching Superman and when dad came into the living room I came flying out of the tv room like Superman and jumped into his arms. I remember when I was little how he could kick the football way up into the branched of the oak tree in the back yard and how big and strong his arms were when I would say Make a Muscle Daddy. I remember that he would bring home surprises from work like a Doody Doody puppet or guess which hand had the candy. I remember when I got older that his expectations of me got a little more demanding. He wanted me to do my homework and wanted me to do well in school. He would tell me that there are 24 hours in a day and that there was time for everything to be done correctly. When I got into college he was very proud and he would write me letters and ask me about the things I saw in Atlanta. He knew a place called Miss Pity Pats Porch and said maybe someday we would go to dinner there. I came home one year for Christmas and the house seemed cold and lonely. Mom and Linda had gone to Spain. Linda was going to school there. I was in the garage. Dad came to the door leading into the garage and he had sadness in his eyes. He said he had just gotten my report card and I wasn’t doing well. They were putting me on academic probation. He was sad. He was not angry or if he was it was overwhelmed by the sadness. I felt so bad. I felt worse about myself than I ever had through any of our arguments about school. It hit me how human and vulnerable dad was. I had always thought of him as invincible. Really both Mom and Dad as that. As solid as a rock. Invincible and inseparable. I never saw them fight and never saw a chink in the armor but now… now in that moment in the doorway and in that moment I decided to do better. To work harder and to be the good student that my dad wanted me to be. And now in this moment in the hospital I could only whisper and only pray and only hope that he knew and that everything would be all right. And I remembered that dad had told me that he had had an experience. Actually I think it was my aunt Sis, dads twin sister who tails me but then I asked dad what it was. Dad told me that when he was a young man he was traveling across country from Michigan back to New Jersey. He had camped overnight and was packing up nd leaving when something made him turn around. He turned around and looked back over his shoulder to where he had been and he said I was given a feeling. A feeling of peace and security overcame me a feeling of peace that was stronger than any other feelings of fear or doubt. Something told me that everything was going to be ok. When he told me this we were standing in front of the garage door that was open. He downplayed it. He said it just happened and it gave him peace. He didn’t explain any other details and I didn’t ask but it was nice. It was me to my person to person father to son. Well now here we were in a hospital room. He in a hospital bed. Me kneeling on the floor what can I do what can I say and I said you can pray. And I prayed the prayer I knew the prayer or one beside Now I lay me down to sleep I prayed; Our Father who Art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom com thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, forgive us out trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory Forever amen.

His breathing had been a steady drumbeat throughout the day and into the night and then it shallowed and then it stopped and then I waited and it did not come back. I was all alone. It was or felt like the middle of the night. I went out in the hallway to find someone. Whoever I found I told them that I think my father has stopped breathing. I stood by my father on the gurney as the attendant took him downstairs. I looked at him but I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t crying I was telling myself inside to act like a man. To be a man. I was terrified but I had to act like I could take this in stride. What do I do. Follow instructions what ever they tell me. I don’t remember anything after starting down in the elevator. The next thing I was home and walked into my parents bedroom where my mother and my sister Linda hugged me.

I walked through the rest of the proceedings where I felt like I had to be an adult. I am an adult now. My dad is not here. He is not here to guide me or support me. I have to show myself and others that I can be an adult. I worked with Linda and her friend to make funeral arrangements. We planned the music, Jimmy Durante, Make Someone Happy and I dealt with the funeral directo that I nicknamed Many the used car guy because to me he seemed insensitive. 

I went home. I went back to work. People were kind and considerate. I think I was stunned. Kind of shell shocked. Dad had never discussed their financial situation but as linda and I and mom looked into it, mom was going to be ok. She said she was going to keep her home as her little jewel. I went home but instead of visiting once a year I decided to visit twice. When I came home that first time mom came to the door and I remembered how ashen was her face and how vacant her eyes… Peter???

 A part of Mom was gone. I had always seen mom as the more outgoing adventurous. The traveler. The dreamer. The artist. The idealist. She was all of those things but then she told me. Peter, I could be all of those things because of your father. No matter where I went or what I did I knew I had Peter waiting for me at home. I had my home.

When my dada died I felt like I was experiencing the worst emotional pain I could have. I thought this now is what real loss is. I felt that we had reconnected. That I had grown out of my totally self centered teenage years and become the home owner and father with a job that dad had always tried to prepare me to be. I came home on one visit and offered to mow the lawn. Dad had always had to chase me around to get me to do my chores and started calling it muscle work when I went through that weight lifting phase. When I was a kid I never thought my parents had any feelings. Certainly nothing I said or did would have any impact. Now in y 70’s I’ve come to learn differently. We have many feelings and everything our grown kids say or do have a tremendous impact. I might as well say it here. Eric, my son, kicked himself with a gun. We butted heads many times over schoolwork just the way my dad and I had. I thought that part was inevitable. I thought that was my job. I thought Eric would outgrow the rebellion and buckle down like my dad always used to tell me. I thought marriage and a child would change Eric as it had me. I thought. I thought… when the police came to the door I thought it was going to be a traffic ticket or child support or something. Anything but what it was. Your son is dead. He killed himself. My mom died three months prior in January. She never knew. And my dad, as this story tells you, my dad had passes away as the result of a stroke while he was working under the car changing the oil. As far as future topics Eric will be one. The birth of my daughter Lauren as another and the meeting and marriage with Tess which in many ways is the whole story of my life.