Scenes From My Week

I was planning on heading up to Tennessee sometime Saturday afternoon. I had to work late Friday night, so I decided that I would go home, get some sleep and hit the road around one or so in the afternoon.

Friday morning I was watching an episode of Angel when I heard my phone go off. I didn't have to be at work until one so I was just lazying around, waiting till I had to get ready. My phone has certain ringers for different people, the ringer that was going off was for my Mom. I knew something had to be wrong for if she was calling me at ten in the morning. She would have assumed that I was at work. It was. This was one of the few times that I can remember my Mom crying. She told me that they didn't give my Dad much longer. I told her that I was on my way. After hanging up I called work and told them I wouldn't be in and than called my brother. We decided to drive up together, he said he would be over as soon as he got home and packed some clothes.

It was going to be at least an hour wait before my brother came to get me. That was one of the longest hours of my life. Waiting, not knowing what was going on. I was allright and than I'd break down, thinking about my Dad.

First look: He looked terrible. You've seen those pictures of concentration camp survivors, that was what he reminded me of. His arms were like pipe cleaners, they were so thin. The last time I saw him he looked sick, but never like this. It was enough to take my breath away. He had been out for the past day and would never regain words again. His eyes would stay open for hours at a time, a reflex the doctors said, just staring straight ahead. He never looked around at anyone or anything.

My Dad is one of those people that never realized the amount of people he touched. He always thought that people didn't like him, he never knew the truth of how much he was loved by others. The second day there the waiting room was like Grand Central Station. At one point I counted over 16 people in there, visiting him and expressing how much he meant to them.

We had nurses that no longer worked on his wing come by and spend time with him. They just wanted to visit. One nurse broke down crying after seeing him.

My brother flew my niece and nephew down. I call them kids, but they aren't. Sean is 22 and Shannon is 18. I can't call them kids, because they showed me what type of adults they were and would be that week. I was very proud of them that week. I know it was hard for them, both of them were very close to my Dad. Shannon all but worshiped my Dad, she loved him so much, so I know it was very hard for her. But she was so strong. She would sit by his bed and hold his hand and kiss him bye when we left.

I remember one point when there must have been ten or twelve people in the room, everyone talking at once. Shannon got up and went and sat on the bed next to her Granpa and held his hand. Slowly the talking died down, one person at a time, until we were all sitting there watching this young woman give comfort to my Dad. It's scenes like this that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I don't know if I would have been as strong as those two that week. They helped keep the rest of us sane I think.

My Mom would spend hours sitting on his bed side, holding his hand and talking to him. Everyone had a chance to sit with him and tell him goodbye.

He died Monday night, not long before midnight.

The area where my Mom lives has been without rain for a long time, everytime I've talked to her on the phone she would make a comment about their lack of rain. The night my Dad died, it started to thunder. Not long after he died it started to rain.

I'm not big on Funeral Homes. I think a lot of them take advantage of people in situations where they're not thinking clearly. I personally don't see the advantage to go in debt to buy a casket that can cost as much as a vehicle. But I have to admit the Funeral Home we went to was not what I expected. They helped with a lot of the paperwork and stuff that would have taken us forever to get through. They arranged for the Military Funeral. And they didn't push us for a certain casket, they left us in the room and left us to ourselves to pick it out.

They did wonders for him at the wake. He looked better than I've seen him look in a long time. He looked peaceful.

They created a cd with pictures that we gave them of my Dad. It was a cd of about 30 pictures that basically showed my Dad throughout his life. It was a very nice touch. They had it running off to the side during the wake and everyone came up to see my Dad in better times.

Larry and Darryl, two friends of mine from New Orleans, drove up for the funeral. I cannot express how much this meant to me and what a surprise this was. We are at least six hours, if not more, from New Orleans, so I was not expecting anyone to make that drive up. Work sent a nice arrangement of flowers and that was all I really expected. To see them drive up for the funeral meant more to me than I can express.

My Dad served 22 years in the Navy so he was able to have a Military Funeral. They gave him a 21 gun salute and played taps. I was holding up pretty good until they played taps.

This has probably been the hardest post I've ever had to write. I started it not long after I got back home. I just wanted to put down some of my thoughts on the last week so I would remember them. But I've had to stop so many times, as I type I just become overwhelmed with the emotion from the scene I'm talking about and can't go on. So this post has taken me almost three days to write.

Rest in Peace, Dad.