Life is kind of funny. Sometimes it can be "Ha Ha" funny. Sometimes it can be "peculiar" funny. Sometimes it can be "strange" funny. But no matter, it rarely ends up the way you want or expect.
I went to work early, again, on Monday, February 27, ready to get a head start on what was to be a very busy week. Around 6 or 6:30 a.m., I was barely even settled, I got a call on my cell phone. I saw that it was Mom. It was a bit strange for her to be calling me so early, but I had no bad thoughts. I mean, they never occurred to me. But I answered the phone, heard Mom crying and then heard the words I had feared for so long... "Dad died."
At this point, two years later, I don't really remember what my first thoughts were. I'm sure that evening if you had asked me what my thoughts had been when she said that I wouldn't have been able to answer you. All I know is that it seemed the tears couldn't come fast enough.
I think she might have tried to tell me how things progressed to that point, or maybe I heard all of that later, but we did talk for a few minutes. Of course I told her I would be home as soon as I could, I asked her if she had talked to my sister (I don't remember what she told me, but probably instinctively knew she and her family would be close behind me).
The first call I made was to my great friend Amy. She lives in North Carolina. I've known her since 1988. She is my best friend and then was only second to my Dad. So, naturally, she was the first to know. And in true best friend fashion fell over herself apologizing for not being able to be there for me. But, of course, I understand. I don't ever expect people to go out of their way for me. I never feel like I deserve it.
The next two calls were to a couple of people I was working with at the time, who were friends then. I called my boss after that. I don't remember when I called my next best friend Donna. I'd like to believe I called her then, but I don't know. If I didn't, I certainly should have.
I didn't take much time to organize my stuff at work before going back to my apartment. By the time I was there, the first round of tears were through. I began packing. Then I thought of something else. I called my friend Patrick, who lived a floor below me in my building. I was glad I caught him before he left for work. I gave him a key to my apartment and asked him if he would mind looking after the place while I was gone, which I didn't know how long would be. In true friend fashion, he did. I've forgotten what all was said, but I have no doubt our friendship was strengthened that day. At least in my eyes it did.
Finally I was off.
I had to drive 200 miles. The worst trip I've ever taken. And weird. For miles I'd be crying, for miles I wouldn't. And no matter, I kept thinking about the things I should have or should not have done. Should I have gone home that weekend? Should I have stayed another week? Should I have not fussed at him a little that day I was grumpy, fussed at him for no reason? Should I have done something to have prevented this from happening?
Who knows? I mean, it didn't matter because none of that would have changed the fact that he was gone. And I still have those thoughts. I feel stupid when I do, but I do. It certainly won't change it now.
Finally, I got home. A close friend of my Mom's was there and most of my Dad's brothers and sisters were there, some of whom were cleaning the house. I didn't understand that because they should be mourning, too, and who gives a shit if the house is clean. But when my Mom saw me we grabbed each other and the tears flowed again. After what seemed like hours, we let each other go and said things I don't remember. Family members were trying to make small talk. It's just one of those awful times when there is absolutely nothing to say, yet most people feel the need to say something. I can't fault them for that, I've been the same way before. Most of the time it's just enough for them to be there. It's the comfort of knowing you aren't alone.
Eventually, my sister, her husband and my nephew showed up. And there it was again. The tears.
The rest of that day is a blur. I don't remember when most of the family left. I don't remember what all we talked about. I don't remember what all I said or what was said to me. I don't even remember if I ate anything.
What I do remember is that after nearly 35 years of life I couldn't think of anything worse happening.
And at some point, I cried myself to sleep.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
February 25, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006, was, to the best of my recollection, a regular day. I slept in. Once up, I don't really remember doing much. I think I went to the grocery because I definitely remember cooking that afternoon.
I had started Weight Watchers on January 3, and was actually still struggling with it at this time, even two months in. Anyway, I was trying a recipe someone had told me about. By the time I had it in the oven a former friend of mine (current then, but former now) called and asked if I wanted to join some others that evening. I said sure, I could save the meal I was making. Frankly, I'm not opposed to left-overs, especially if it's something good.
So, I ended up doing something (what, I don't remember) that afternoon, and headed out later.
Once there, it was around 6 p.m. or so. It had to be at least that late because I do remember it was dark. Before I went in, I decided to call Dad since I wasn't sure how late I would be out.
I think we actually talked for a long time, longer than we had any night since I had come back to Lexington after his surgery. We didn't talk about anything in particular, we just chatted. I loved having those kinds of conversations with him. Inevitably we would get to laughing over something silly. One thing that really got him going was the TV commercial for the movie "The Shaggy Dog." It was on while we were talking and he got to laughing at it. He told me there was no way he would be able to see it because he'd pop his incision open from laughing so hard. It was funny to me because he'd laugh, and then in between breaths he'd go, "Oh, Oh" like he was in pain and then he'd get to laughing again. My Dad had a great laugh.
Ultimately we ended the call. I told him I was sorry that I didn't come in that weekend, but that I would see him the next weekend. He said that was okay and that he looked forward to it.
I told him that I loved him. He said, "I love you, too."
I hung up and went on with my night.
It was the last time I spoke to him.
I had started Weight Watchers on January 3, and was actually still struggling with it at this time, even two months in. Anyway, I was trying a recipe someone had told me about. By the time I had it in the oven a former friend of mine (current then, but former now) called and asked if I wanted to join some others that evening. I said sure, I could save the meal I was making. Frankly, I'm not opposed to left-overs, especially if it's something good.
So, I ended up doing something (what, I don't remember) that afternoon, and headed out later.
Once there, it was around 6 p.m. or so. It had to be at least that late because I do remember it was dark. Before I went in, I decided to call Dad since I wasn't sure how late I would be out.
I think we actually talked for a long time, longer than we had any night since I had come back to Lexington after his surgery. We didn't talk about anything in particular, we just chatted. I loved having those kinds of conversations with him. Inevitably we would get to laughing over something silly. One thing that really got him going was the TV commercial for the movie "The Shaggy Dog." It was on while we were talking and he got to laughing at it. He told me there was no way he would be able to see it because he'd pop his incision open from laughing so hard. It was funny to me because he'd laugh, and then in between breaths he'd go, "Oh, Oh" like he was in pain and then he'd get to laughing again. My Dad had a great laugh.
Ultimately we ended the call. I told him I was sorry that I didn't come in that weekend, but that I would see him the next weekend. He said that was okay and that he looked forward to it.
I told him that I loved him. He said, "I love you, too."
I hung up and went on with my night.
It was the last time I spoke to him.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
February 23-24, 2006
That Thursday, Feb. 23, Dad still didn't get to go home, but when I talked to him he said he was still feeling really well and was really looking forward to going home.
On the afternoon of Friday, Feb. 24, I was working and my cell phone rang. I typically don't answer it while at work, but noticed it was home, so I answered expecting Mom. After I said, "Hello," I heard my Dad say, "WWWWWWAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUPPPPPPPPP!!!" You know, like those guys did in those old Bud commercials?
It was obvious that Dad was feeling really well that day. And he told me that he was home.
That was a great feeling. He was home finally, he was feeling well, and he was in great spirits.
We talked for a little while longer and then I got back to work. I actually considered just driving home that day after work instead of waiting a week, but I stuck with the original plan. I called Dad again that night and I slept well.
There was, however, one thing bothering me. I was scheduled to go in a few weeks to the NCAA Division I Wrestling Championships in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, for work. When I got back to work after Dad's surgery, I told my boss that I needed someone else to go for me, because I didn't want to be that far away from Dad until I knew his recovery was complete. That was just going to be too soon after for me. I had been in that position before. When I was working with UK Athletics I was in Texas with the women's gymnastics team. During the trip, Dad had emergency gallbladder surgery. It was a tough time because I wasn't able to get back quickly. Luckily, he was fine. However, I didn't want that to happen again. But my boss said there was no one else to go, and that I had to.
But at the time, Dad was good, so life was good.
On the afternoon of Friday, Feb. 24, I was working and my cell phone rang. I typically don't answer it while at work, but noticed it was home, so I answered expecting Mom. After I said, "Hello," I heard my Dad say, "WWWWWWAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUPPPPPPPPP!!!" You know, like those guys did in those old Bud commercials?
It was obvious that Dad was feeling really well that day. And he told me that he was home.
That was a great feeling. He was home finally, he was feeling well, and he was in great spirits.
We talked for a little while longer and then I got back to work. I actually considered just driving home that day after work instead of waiting a week, but I stuck with the original plan. I called Dad again that night and I slept well.
There was, however, one thing bothering me. I was scheduled to go in a few weeks to the NCAA Division I Wrestling Championships in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, for work. When I got back to work after Dad's surgery, I told my boss that I needed someone else to go for me, because I didn't want to be that far away from Dad until I knew his recovery was complete. That was just going to be too soon after for me. I had been in that position before. When I was working with UK Athletics I was in Texas with the women's gymnastics team. During the trip, Dad had emergency gallbladder surgery. It was a tough time because I wasn't able to get back quickly. Luckily, he was fine. However, I didn't want that to happen again. But my boss said there was no one else to go, and that I had to.
But at the time, Dad was good, so life was good.
Friday, February 22, 2008
February 22, 2006
Monday and Tuesday (Feb. 20-21) weren't great days. By that I mean I was at work but all I could think about was Dad. Everyone there kept coming up to me asking me how he was doing. Which was nice, but didn't help with the trying not to think about it.
But I did my work as best I could and kept living on. You have to.
Again, Wednesday, Feb. 22, was the same. I got through the day and went home. I was hoping with all hope that Dad would be home this day. There were some thoughts by his doctor that he might be able to go home by then, but unfortunately, they wanted to keep him around a few more days.
The worst part of that day was that it was Dad's birthday and he had to spend it in the hospital. However, when I spoke to him, which I had done everyday since I left, he sounded good, he was laughing, he said things were going well and that he felt better every day.
This made me feel good. But what I decided around this time, since he wasn't going to get to go home now until probably Friday, Feb. 24, was that I wouldn't drive in that weekend. I decided it would be best to just let Mom get him home and settled and then the next weekend I could come in and hang out with him.
That was his last birthday.
He was 59.
But I did my work as best I could and kept living on. You have to.
Again, Wednesday, Feb. 22, was the same. I got through the day and went home. I was hoping with all hope that Dad would be home this day. There were some thoughts by his doctor that he might be able to go home by then, but unfortunately, they wanted to keep him around a few more days.
The worst part of that day was that it was Dad's birthday and he had to spend it in the hospital. However, when I spoke to him, which I had done everyday since I left, he sounded good, he was laughing, he said things were going well and that he felt better every day.
This made me feel good. But what I decided around this time, since he wasn't going to get to go home now until probably Friday, Feb. 24, was that I wouldn't drive in that weekend. I decided it would be best to just let Mom get him home and settled and then the next weekend I could come in and hang out with him.
That was his last birthday.
He was 59.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
February 18-19, 2006
This day was a good one. Saturday. Dad was a lot better and eventually got into a private room. I even remember him walking that day. Crazy, right? I mean barely two days later? And he was handling it well.
That evening when he was taking his first walk, Mom and I went down to the gift shop again. The shop had these small dog replicas. I mean like fit in the palm of your hand small. They weren't exactly bobbleheads, but the heads of them did flop up and down. Anyway, they had one of a Golden Retriever puppy that looked exactly like Sammy. So, Mom bought it for him.
When we got back upstairs to Dad's room he was just getting back from the walk and was worn out. Frankly, I don't see how he did it, but he did. He was strong that way.
The nurses and therapist got him back into his bed and once he got settles Mom told him that she had something for him. She pulled it out of the bag, and like a child on Christmas morning, my Dad's eyes lit up and he said, "Sammy!!" You know, it's little things like that you never think about much until they are gone.
He ended up having a few visitors that day and finally, in his usual fashion, he told me and Mom to go home, that there was no sense in us sitting there until late. So we headed out around 9 or so.
The next day, Sunday, he had another great day. He was recovering nicely, although he still had his chest tube in, but I believe by this point his IV was removed. The chest tube was the last connection to the surgery he had.
He was in good spirits. I had driven myself to the hospital this day because I was planning to go back to Lexington so I could get back to work on Monday. Mom and I went out at one point, grabbed a bite and went to Barnes and Noble, where she got a coffee and we talked about his recovery and how it would be at home.
Mom was still working at the time and once he got home she knew that she wouldn't be able to devote the time necessary to take care of him during the day. Luckily, they would probably have some home health come in during the days to check on him. This is where I should have stepped up and offered to stay a little longer. But for some reason I felt obligated to Host Communications. A company that certainly ended up letting me down.
Anyway, we got back to the hospital. I visited with Dad some more. Around 4 o'clock he was dozing off and I knew he was ready to take a nap and I wanted to get back to Lexington before it got too late. So before he went to sleep I let him know I was going. I hugged and kissed him as usual, told him I loved him and that I would see him again soon. He said the same. I grabbed my bag and Mom walked me out. I don't remember what we said to one another but I know I hated leaving. It hurt. At the time I didn't know why. I think now that it was because I was still scared.
I put my bag in the car and drove away.
I never saw Dad alive again.
That evening when he was taking his first walk, Mom and I went down to the gift shop again. The shop had these small dog replicas. I mean like fit in the palm of your hand small. They weren't exactly bobbleheads, but the heads of them did flop up and down. Anyway, they had one of a Golden Retriever puppy that looked exactly like Sammy. So, Mom bought it for him.
When we got back upstairs to Dad's room he was just getting back from the walk and was worn out. Frankly, I don't see how he did it, but he did. He was strong that way.
The nurses and therapist got him back into his bed and once he got settles Mom told him that she had something for him. She pulled it out of the bag, and like a child on Christmas morning, my Dad's eyes lit up and he said, "Sammy!!" You know, it's little things like that you never think about much until they are gone.
He ended up having a few visitors that day and finally, in his usual fashion, he told me and Mom to go home, that there was no sense in us sitting there until late. So we headed out around 9 or so.
The next day, Sunday, he had another great day. He was recovering nicely, although he still had his chest tube in, but I believe by this point his IV was removed. The chest tube was the last connection to the surgery he had.
He was in good spirits. I had driven myself to the hospital this day because I was planning to go back to Lexington so I could get back to work on Monday. Mom and I went out at one point, grabbed a bite and went to Barnes and Noble, where she got a coffee and we talked about his recovery and how it would be at home.
Mom was still working at the time and once he got home she knew that she wouldn't be able to devote the time necessary to take care of him during the day. Luckily, they would probably have some home health come in during the days to check on him. This is where I should have stepped up and offered to stay a little longer. But for some reason I felt obligated to Host Communications. A company that certainly ended up letting me down.
Anyway, we got back to the hospital. I visited with Dad some more. Around 4 o'clock he was dozing off and I knew he was ready to take a nap and I wanted to get back to Lexington before it got too late. So before he went to sleep I let him know I was going. I hugged and kissed him as usual, told him I loved him and that I would see him again soon. He said the same. I grabbed my bag and Mom walked me out. I don't remember what we said to one another but I know I hated leaving. It hurt. At the time I didn't know why. I think now that it was because I was still scared.
I put my bag in the car and drove away.
I never saw Dad alive again.
My Short Film
This post is going to seem a little bit out of place in the midst of some other pretty heavy posts, but I finally got a digital copy of the short film I wrote and directed, "The Obituaries." This film was produced while in the Filmmaking Certificate Program at Bluegrass Community and Technical College in the Fall of 2007. It is obviously a student film. But while there are things that I would have liked to have done differently, I'm still very proud of it.
Anyway, have a look and then hit me with some feedback. I'm trying to get better, so critical feedback is always good. By the way, I'd say it's a weak PG-13.
Hope you enjoy watching it as much as I enjoyed making it.
Anyway, have a look and then hit me with some feedback. I'm trying to get better, so critical feedback is always good. By the way, I'd say it's a weak PG-13.
Hope you enjoy watching it as much as I enjoyed making it.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
February 17, 2006
I must say I did sleep a little easier that night. Of course, Dad wasn't out of danger yet, but he had survived the surgery, so that had to be a good thing. However, he wasn't off the ventilator yet, so we didn't rush back in that morning. Besides, we had decided that it wasn't fair to Sammy to leave him at the house all day while we are at the hospital, and being so young and not house-broken yet, we couldn't impose on anyone to take him. So, we decided that it would be best to kennel him until Dad could get back home and felt like taking care of him again. And this way, he could run and play with other puppies. So, that morning we took him to his vet's hospital, where they also had a kennel. This was a good situation because he still needed a couple of shots and they could give them to him while he was there.
After dropping Sammy off, we headed to the hospital. When we got there, we plopped down in a corner and awaited the first visiting hour. Again, I had taken my computer so I had plenty to do.
At one point, an older gentleman walked up to us and introduced himself as a representative of the Mended Hearts Chapter 107. This is a group of folks who have gone through open-heart surgery. He talked to us about groups that we could join that would help us get through the recovery and maintain Dad's health. He also gave us a pillow to give to Dad.
This was for Dad to use when he coughed or moved or laughed, etc. He was to hold it against his incision to help prevent it from opening and ease the pain a little.
A cousin of mine, who was doing some student social work at the hospital stopped by to see how Dad was. We were talking and I told her about Sammy, and we got to talking about how great Sammy would be for Dad's recovery once he got home and settled.
Finally, the ventilator was removed and when we went in to see Dad, it was awful. He had absolutely no color. He was inclined as far up in a sitting position as the bed would allow. He was breathing hard but sounded as if he couldn't catch his breath. Of course, breathing hurt too much. He couldn't have anything to drink so Mom had to keep wetting this small swab for him to suck on. I had seen Dad in a bad way a lot in my life, but never had I seen him suffering as much as he was then. Of course, I knew what had caused it, but it didn't make it any easier to see him that way.
We didn't stay in the room long, and by the end of the day, I was ready to head home. I didn't want to leave him, but I just couldn't see him that way anymore.
I hoped the next day would be a lot better.
After dropping Sammy off, we headed to the hospital. When we got there, we plopped down in a corner and awaited the first visiting hour. Again, I had taken my computer so I had plenty to do.
At one point, an older gentleman walked up to us and introduced himself as a representative of the Mended Hearts Chapter 107. This is a group of folks who have gone through open-heart surgery. He talked to us about groups that we could join that would help us get through the recovery and maintain Dad's health. He also gave us a pillow to give to Dad.
This was for Dad to use when he coughed or moved or laughed, etc. He was to hold it against his incision to help prevent it from opening and ease the pain a little.
A cousin of mine, who was doing some student social work at the hospital stopped by to see how Dad was. We were talking and I told her about Sammy, and we got to talking about how great Sammy would be for Dad's recovery once he got home and settled.
Finally, the ventilator was removed and when we went in to see Dad, it was awful. He had absolutely no color. He was inclined as far up in a sitting position as the bed would allow. He was breathing hard but sounded as if he couldn't catch his breath. Of course, breathing hurt too much. He couldn't have anything to drink so Mom had to keep wetting this small swab for him to suck on. I had seen Dad in a bad way a lot in my life, but never had I seen him suffering as much as he was then. Of course, I knew what had caused it, but it didn't make it any easier to see him that way.
We didn't stay in the room long, and by the end of the day, I was ready to head home. I didn't want to leave him, but I just couldn't see him that way anymore.
I hoped the next day would be a lot better.
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