June 17th

*** Warning, this will be an emotional blog - this is the first time I've ever written out the events of my father's death***

June 17, 2004:

It was about 1am, I was downstairs on the computer talking to a friend on MSN and listening to music with my headphones on, when all of a sudden I heard my mom scream "Larry!!"  In a second I ripped my headphones off and sprinted up the stairs.  George (our lab) was barking because of the commotion, and my brother was on the phone with 911.  My mother was kneeling over my father in their bedroom trying desperately to get him to breath - he had had a heart attack.  I didn't know what to do.  What could I do?  I paced.  I wrung my hands, and held my breath. 

The ambulance had arrived in moments and we were ushered out of the room while they attempted to bring my father back to us.  I seemed like it was hours we sat at our kitchen table waiting for news as my mom went through Dad's medications with one of the paramedics.  "Dad was on heart medication?"  I distinctly remember thinking, and through my confusion was anger and frustration - I wish I had known.  I wish I had been told, so I could have done something, went for walks with him, helped him eat better, something - anything.  My father was a big man.  "Morbidly Obese" is the term they used.  I hate that phrase.  It makes my stomach bunch up in knots, and makes me feel sick.  I hated that they said it to us, we knew he was a big man, everyone knew - but it's rude to straight out say it, you know?  At least that's how I felt at that moment. 

"We lost him - I'm sorry"  Those are the worst words anyone can hear, a mother, a wife, a child - anyone.  I didn't believe it at first.  The whole time they were in there with him I kept telling my mom that it'll be okay, and that he'll be alright - but then he wasn't.  That's not supposed to happen!  He was my dad, dad's are supposed to be "superman", they take a hit and keep going!  But there we were - and it felt like I had just been punched in the stomach.  I stared at the paramedic who delivered the news, pausing to give him time to say "just kidding!"  in some cruel heartless joke, what I would give to have had that a cruel heartless joke.  I dont even think I remembered to cry at that moment, I was in complete shock.

An hour later, we were alone, just Mom, Jonathan and I.  They sent grief counselors at about 3am.  Just volunteers who were there to talk if we wanted too - and they left us with pamphlets on handling death, and support group information - but we couldn't talk.  We just sobbed, and Jonathan just sat there in silence (I never saw him cry that night - he was our rock, he had to be).

When we were alone again, we didn't know what to do - we cleaned.  Mom poured out my father's alcohol, we threw out the cookies and unhealthy snacks in the cupboards and fridge.   We went for a drive together and dropped off the movies I had rented the night before, and took George for a run.  We didn't know what else to do, we just needed to stay busy.   

By 7am relatives and family started calling and arriving.  My auntie Liz was amazing during that time, and took on the job of notifying all of the family and friends, and answering all the incoming calls.  By that time I hadn't cried in hours and was just numb, so I called my friend Amanda.  Amanda had also lost her father a couple years before, and I figured if anyone knew what I was dealing with - she did.  There was no answer, so I left her a message it started with "Hi Amanda it's Heather..."  and then I broke down, I managed to sob out "my dad died last night" and hung up the phone.  Not something I wanted to leave on a voice mail message, but I didn't know what to do - I wasn't thinking clearly, it still hadn't sunk in. 

Around 10am I was made to try to get some sleep, and managed to get in a couple hours.  Waking up was wonderful, and then horrible, for a brief moment I thought I had dreamt the whole thing, and then I was suddenly aware of how many people were in our house, and reality came flooding back to me. 

Neighbors, church members, friends and relatives all came by.  Our fridge and freezer filled up with casseroles, scalloped potatoes, and an entire roast turkey, as our living room was filled with white lilies.  That's another thing, to this day, the smell of white lilies makes me sick to my stomach, and my mom ended up with a similar affliction.  I've even gone so far as to call the company that delivered weekly flowers to the office I did temp work at a couple years ago, and request that not a single white lilly arrived in any bouquet.  I don't know why the flower of death has to smell like hot dog water - but there it is.  If I ever have to send sympathy flowers to someone, I will make sure I send something colorful, cheerful, and lilly free!

For the months following my dad's death I found I had a hard time in every aspect of my life.  My school work was suffering, I broke up with my boyfriend because I couldn't stand to be hugged or touched, I wasn't sleeping, and when I did I would wake up with that wave of reality hitting me every morning.  Songs on the radio would make me cry, especially Trooper - "We're here for a good time", and Roy Orbison "In Dreams" which were played at his funeral.  Several times I woke up in a panic because I heard an ambulance siren and the whole night would come flooding back to me.  At one point my mom once came home and dropped her keys on the side table at the entrance and the noise of the key clatter made my heart jump thinking it was my dad (my mom always hung her keys - my dad was the only one who tossed them on the side table, and that noise was always the sound of my father arriving home).  Even watching George sit at the stairs waiting for Dad to come home was heart breaking.  My dad was engrained in every part of my life, and I didn't realize it until he wasn't there anymore. 

Now here I am - 7 years later, and looking back I still wiped my eyes and blew my nose about 50 times writing this.  It still hard to think about, and it's still hard knowing that he's gone.  I feel silly saying this, but that's always the main thing people talk about when losing someone "I wish I had known, there were so many things I would have said or done"  I feel that way now.  The last time I saw my dad alive, he had arrived home and found me asleep in his bed and asked "What are you doing sleeping here" and I responded "I was rehearsing my lines and I fell asleep"  that's it.  that's the last thing I said to him. But the thing is - he can hear me now.  He knows what I want to say to him, he knows that I miss him, and that I love him, and he knows that every year I get a little teary on this day because I wish more than anything that he was still here with us.

Roy Orbison "In Dreams"

A candy-colored clown they call the sandman
Tiptoes to my room every night
Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper
"Go to sleep. Everything is all right."

I close my eyes, Then I drift away
Into the magic night. I softly say
A silent prayer Like dreamers do.
Then I fall asleep to dream My dreams of you.

In dreams I walk with you. In dreams I talk to you.
In dreams you're mine. All of the time we're together
In dreams, In dreams.

But just before the dawn, I awake and find you gone.
I can't help it, I can't help it, if I cry.
I remember that you said goodbye.

It's too bad that all these things, Can only happen in my dreams
Only in dreams In beautiful dreams.

  I love you Dad <3