Smile

I thought about checking in with my parents on Friday night. It kept getting later and later, so I figured I’d call dad in the morning. As I went about my usual day, going to the post office, the store, I stopped at the jewelry store to have the gold pocket watch inscribed for my dad’s up coming 70th birthday. My father’s faith and love of God is deeper than any ocean. So on his gold pocket watch (something he would never buy for himself) we wanted to put the scripture, “There is a time for every purpose under heaven”.

His birthday is June 10th and my parent’s 49th wedding aniversary is June 25th. The watch seemed a perfect fit. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when we gave it to him.

On the way home, my cell phone rang At 9:07. “Hello”?

“Kathy your dad passed”.

“Passed what”? I said. He’d had gall bladder surgery and since, has suffered some complications from that. “What did he pass”? I asked.

“Your dad passed away” the voice on the other end said.

Immediatley I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything just seemed to fold in and collaspe. I have no memory of how I got home, but apparently I kept driving.

For the last 2 days I have been operating on automatic pilot. It’s so surreal. As the oldest of three children in my family, I’ve tried to step up to the plate and take care of whatever needs to be done. Something my dad usually does in these situations.

I went home, threw an overnight bag together, left a message for my husband (who was running errands himself) and drove the 57 miles to my parents home. As I turned onto their 1/4 mile drive, everything seemed as it should be. Everything was green, dad had just mowed the field. Then I rounded the corner. The police, fire dept. and medical coroner’s vehicles sat out back. After throwing my truck in park, I stepped out and began violently throwing up.

I walked into the kitchen where my sister was trying to comfort my mother. Mom was screaming “what am I going to do without daddy”? over and over again. I put my arms around her. After a bit, the coroner said “I need you to walk upstairs with me. We need to take some photos, which is just standard procedure when someone dies at home”. Someone? I couldn’t believe this was happening. I cleared my throat and tried to speak, but couldn’t.

We walked upstairs, but before entering my father’s bedroom I froze. My heart was beating so loud and so fast I thought the coroner would hear it, feel it. He asked, “are you ready”?

“No, I am not ready”. I think I repeated it several times. Then we walked in.

The man I saw lying on the bed was dead. He was not my father. My father was always smiling, always there to greet me with a hug. The coroner took his pictures and left me alone to say good bye to my dad. I curled up on the bed and put my arms around him. He was cold and turning blue where he lay. I stroked his hair. His beautiful silver hair.

I have never felt this lost. I have never experienced this kind of pain. I have never felt this alone.

What am I going to do without my dad?