My father passed away on Saturday, May 3, 2008. It was exactly one month after his 53rd birthday, 1 day shy of 2 months since he and I and my brother had gone out to celebrate my 31st birthday. I had called him up on Friday evening and asked if he and his girlfriend Pam wanted to go to dinner with Richard and I. The girls were spending the night at a neighbors house, they were camping out in the front yard. We figured it was the perfect opportunity to go out for a nice dinner. My dad declined, he said that Pam had to get up at 3 am for work, and that he was getting ready to head to his brother’s house to spend the night. His brother lives about 40 minutes away. He said, “I’ll take a raincheck. I will give you a call when I get home and we will see if we can’t get together tomorrow or something.” Richard and I went to dinner, then we stopped on the way home to meet my brother at Memo’s Bar and Grill. We got home and went to bed around 1:30 am.
At 6:30 am Saturday morning, Richard’s alarm went off, he had forgotten to turn it off, he doesn’t work on weekends. I woke up and was unable to fall back asleep so I went downstairs and checked my email. At about 7:30 am, the phone rang. The incoming call was from my father’s phone and my first thought was, “why the hell is dad calling me so early.” The person on the other end of the phone was not my father. It was his brother in a panic. He said he had just woken up and was unable to wake my father up, that he was stiff. I asked him if he was breathing, he told me he did not know, that an ambulance was on the way. I immediately hung up, called my brother Bruce, and then my mother and got dressed. I figured we would have to drive out to Lexington, his brother’s town and meet him at the hospital.
About 15 minutes later, his brother called me back and told me that the EMT had arrived and that they were not taking my dad to the hospital. He had been gone for several hours. I started to cry and hung up on his brother while he was speaking to me. I called my brother who was waiting for my phone call. He started to cry and hung up on me. Then I called my mother. I sat there in a daze, and then his brother called me again. The EMT and the Deputy Sheriff wanted to speak to me. They could not find my dads ID, which I knew he always left in his wallet in his truck. I answered their questions about his date of birth, his home address and the basics. I was in shock. After screaming and crying, I calmed down, almost went numb and just sat there. About 30 minutes later I got a call from funeral home in Lexington, they asked me where I wanted the body transported, where we wanted to have his funeral and what my plans were. I had no answers. I did not think we would have to deal with this for several years. I imagined that my father was going to get old and unable to take care of himself, I imagined that we would take him into our home and I would nurse him through his golden years. I never thought we would get news that my dad was gone so young.
I called my mother, and started to lose it. I told her I was not ready to make these decisions, that I could not deal with this on my own. She told me that she would help, but from behind the curtain, she did not feel it would be appropriate for her to be in the forefront. They had been separated just over 3 years.
Richard and I left the house to go pick my brother up at work. He was in no condition to drive. When we got there, I jumped out of the van, ran up to my brother and we just hugged and cried. We brought my brother back to our place, and a little later my mother called me. She was calling to let me know that because her and my father were never technically divorced, that dealing with everything going on was her responsibility. I breathed a sigh of relief. I just knew there was no way I could do it.
My mother came by a little after 10 am, maybe it was 11, I cannot recall, and she just sat here with Richard, my brother and myself.
It has now been 6 days, and as of yesterday the funeral home in Lexington had not gotten the check to pay for my father’s cremation. I think that really bugs me. I know he is gone, and it doesn’t matter to him, but knowing that my dad is still in a drawer on a refrigerated metal slab really bothers me. I want him to be taken care of the way he would have wanted, which was cremation. I hate that we have had to wait so long. As long as the funeral home gets the check for $1,835 by today, or tomorrow at the latest, we plan to have a memorial service for him on Monday and then go back to Pam’s place, which is where my father lived in a separate apartment on her property. I am not sure we are ready to be at the place he called home, and I know this has been extremely hard on Pam. They were very close, have been for just over 2 years. She truly believed my father was her soulmate despite all of his quirks and flaws, she loved him for him, and never expected him to change or be anyone different. She accepted him unconditionally.
I miss my father so much. We talked on the phone everyday, sometimes for a few moments, other times for hours, talking about whatever. He would usually come to my place 2-3 times a week, after Richard left for work and the girls went to school. That was our time. We would either hang out here and talk, or go to breakfast or have lunch. Sometimes we watched funny videos on the internet, or we would sit around and watch our favorite TV shows, like House and Dexter. My dad was my best friend.
I am so thankful we moved to VA almost 2 years ago, because my dad and I became very close again, after a very long time apart. I cherish every day that we spent together. I would give anything for 2 more years with him. At this point I would give anything for one more day with him. This has been one of the most painful things I have ever had to deal with. I wish my daddy was still here.
