20 Years Ago Today

Twenty years ago today I said good-bye to my father for the last time.  Officially, he will have passed away on July 24, 1994 just before one o'clock in the morning.  I said my final farewell the evening before in a sterile hospital room filled with family, no privacy for the matter.  I whispered "good bye"; I gave him a kiss on his lips.  He never responded.  I promptly walked out of the room and stood against the wall until I could no longer stand before sliding down the wall while crying.  A nurse passed by me and made some exclamation along the lines of "poor girl".  She asked me if I wanted a Popsicle.  I have spent many years wondering when my last real good-bye was, the responsive one anyway.  I do not even remember how many days my dad was comatose, but that last real good-bye would have been just before the coma.  I do not remember many of the gritty details anymore; it is probably a good thing.  The only good bye I have to remember was a kiss upon unresponsive lips. 

It was twenty years ago today that my Aunt Jo Ann offered to take my brothers and I to her home for food and rest.  I do not know why I said yes, but I did.  She took my older brother home while my younger brother and I went to her house.  That house...it has seen more tragedy than a home should.  I slept in my cousin Sara's room with her.  Sara, who passed away in that house in January this year, was so kind to me.  My junior by 9 years or so, she refused to let me sleep on the floor.  I would find out that following morning that my dad was gone as my aunt sat next to me on her sofa while gingerly giving me the news.  To be honest, I had known before she even said the words.

It was twenty years ago today that I realized my life would be different.  I had known this time was coming.  This death was from an illness that took its time and crept into my dad for years.  He was 39 when he died.  I knew it was coming.  Nevertheless, until the moment I kissed my dad good-bye, that very last time...it was just another day to get through.  That last time I left the hospital was when I knew things would never be the same.

It was twenty years ago today I said good-bye to him.  I do not know what my life would be like if he were still here.  There is no point in imagining it.  Regardless, it has been twenty years of missing the best parts about my dad.  It has been twenty years of consoling others while saying, "the pain never goes away, but it does get easier" because I actually know.  It has been twenty years of life moving on without him.

18 Years Ago Today

I remember what I was doing 18 years ago today.  I sat at my Aunt JoAnne's home with my younger brother at my side.  We were informed that at nearly 1:00 in the morning, my father had passed away.  July 24th, 1994. He was only 39 years old.

Less than 12 hours before that where I was exhausted from being at the hospital, Aunt Jo asked if we'd like to stay at her house with her over night.  My older brother who had no fear of being home alone chose to get dropped off at home.  Drew and I went to stay with Aunt Jo.  I went to say good bye to my dad, to say I would see him in the morning.  By this time he was already in a coma, and as I went to give him a kiss good bye I knew it was the end.  Despite all the signs, the words, the "understanding", this time I knew it.  When I kissed him good bye, the last time I ever would do so, he didn't return the kiss.  I'd watched him in a coma for at least a day or more and had no idea really.  This time I did.  I would never converse with or gain affection from him ever again.

I said good bye, I touched his face, and I walked out of the room where I pressed my back to the wall and sunk to the ground in an uncontrollable fit of tears and sadness hoping no one saw me.  I calmed down to a point and remember (of all things) a nurse asking if I wanted a Popsicle. 

18 years later I still remember the lack of response the last time I said good bye.  I still regret not being a more loving child, a more supportive child, just a better person in general.  I still regret mean things I said to him or about him.  I've learned that you can't live life in such a way that allows these regrets to seep into you.  Sure, everyone has passionate bouts where they say or do the wrong things...but I had more of those than most, and perhaps some justified.  By the time I got to say goodbye, my father didn't know.  Now all I can do is show up at his grave and remember the last place his body ever was...

Dani will never know him; he never got to see me graduate high school or college (twice!); nor was he able to walk me down the aisle and have a father-daughter dance with me.  These things are what hurt.  But to every sad thing I know there are positives.  My father was unhealthy and now that isn't an issue.  He met Holly before he left us, a very rare opportunity for fate to show its face.  Our lives could have been tragically different if things were the way the had been the last year's of my father's life.  A thousand "what-ifs" are all we can speculate. 

I suppose my father's passing has made me a better person, more understanding, and watchful of the horrible words I may say.  It made me grow up at 15 years old.  It made me appreciate the things I had and things I earned.  It made me proud to talk about my dad, to honor him.  To this day, 18 years later, it isn't easier, I've just gained more understanding.