6 Months Ago Today
I know this is written poorly, but it was very hard to write.
Six months ago, I boarded a plan to Washington D.C. for a spring break trip with my best friend, a few hours later, I boarded a plane home. In the few hours I was gone, my dad had a heart attack and passed away.
It was approximately 11:00pm in D.C. when I called home. I'd had a rough day and I thought talking with my mom might help me let off some steam. I estimated that it was about 8:00p.m. in California. I called two or three times, but there was no answer.
MY PARENTS WERE MARRIED ONE MONTH SHY OF 41 YEARS
I called my brother's cell, thinking that maybe my parents were at his house, but he didn't answer. Thinking that I'd called the wrong number, I called his house. At this point I was suspicious that something was wrong, but it never occurred to me that it was this bad. My sister-in-law answered the phone. I could tell by her voice that something was wrong and she seemed surprised to hear from me. I don't remember much about our conversation except that she said "You need to call Brian. Something happened. Its your dad." I begged her to tell me what was wrong, but she didn't know anything.
I hung up with Sarah and called Brian. As the phone rang, I remember thinking that dad really had to get his blood sugar under control (it had been crazy the last few weeks). Brian answered and filled me in. He said that dad had collapsed outside of a restaurant, they were at the ER now, but he didn't know anything else and he would call me when he knew more.
A few minutes passed and I got a call from Brian's phone number, but when I answered it wasn't Brian, it was my brother Patrick's girlfriend, Patty. She asked me if I knew and I said yes. I asked her to tell me what was going on and her words shattered my heart. She said that the nurse said that we should bring the family in to say their goodbyes.
Helpless doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling. I was scared, mad, hurt and I threw my phone across the room as my eyes flooded with tears. I realized that I needed to talk to my mom or my sister or one of my brothers, this had to be some sick joke. I ran across the room, found my phone and begged Patty to put someone on the phone.
Thats when I knew it wasn't a joke. My sisters voice came across. I could hear the pain in her voice, she didn't need to tell me, I already knew. She asked me if I was okay, I said yes. She told me to come home and I said that I didn't know how to get there. By this time, my friend was already on the computer booking a flight home, but it was registering in my mind. I couldn't think, I couldn't stop crying. Katie told me that I had to calm down, she said "they won't let you on the plane if you're hysterical. You just have to get home."
Those words became my credo. My best friend (Tawnya) and I packed our bags and headed to the airport. I don't remember much of the flights home, I had taken a sleeping pill. I dosed briefly here and there, and when I would wake, I thought that I'd been dreaming.
I tried to pray, but I couldn't think. In one of the airports, I saw a woman praying the rosary and I just cried, I remember thinking "I hope she's praying for me right now."
I remember having a panic attack on Tawnya, I remember refusing to go anywhere, I remember telling her that if I saw my sister it would be real and I didn't want to go home. But Tawnya made me.
The next few days are a blurr. I wasn't sleeping or eating and I didn't want to be alone.
The next few weeks were rough. I tried helping my mom as much as possible but at the same time I didn't want to be around anyone or do anything. I especially found it hard to be home alone.
Today, six months later, I'm better, but a day doesn't go by that something doesn't remind me of my dad. In all honesty, these last few weeks have been harder than the first few weeks. I miss my dad more then anything. He is always in my thoughts and prayers and in everything I do. Even when I go bowling. Everytime I step up to bowl, I can hear his voice saying "One, Two, Three" counting my steps.
The last time I saw my dad, he hugged me and asked me not to go on my trip, because he would miss me too much. I wish I'd listened.
My dad and I spent a lot of time together the week before he died. It was an exceptionally great week. The night before I left for my trip, my mom came into the hall and hugged me. We were laughing about something and my dad came down the hall, he wrapped his arms around the both of us and made a joke. Every time I think of my dad, I think of that moment and how when he walked away from our group hug, he looked back at me with the biggest smile on his face.
If I could, would I go back and redo something? Yes, I wouldn't have left for D.C. I would have stayed home and maybe found him sooner and if I couldn't, I would have loved one last chance to say goodbye.
