I shall miss my father forever.
I
I've been trying to get through one thing at a time. It's horrible. Everything is horrible. I'm not okay at all, but I'm going to get through this because I have to. I will do this one thing, and then I will do another thing. Everything is bad right now, it's going to be bad for a while. I have to keep one step at a time. I really don't want to breakdown in public.
On Friday, the Mercy nurse, Sabrina, came by and was glad to see he wasn't as bad as the last time she saw him. She was really worried about his sudden extreme weakness, and all she could suggest was calling 911 to have him taken to the nearest emergency room and then transferred to the VA. He got a bit angry, very insistent, that he did not want to go to the ER. That was that.
A couple of times thru the night he called me, just calling loudly, he had been having trouible with his phone which I'm pretty sure was just him accidentally touching it in multiple places while holding it. I came up, and struggled with him, helping him go to the bathroom, cleaning up, heating up food for him, making sure he had plenty of water. The last thing he said to me was, "Thank you, Athena."
I came up that morning, hurrying by to get to the post office in time to get the mail, and thought he was just asleep. But I noticed his blankets were askew, I worried he'd be cold, so I doubled back to cover him. I called to him, I noticed I couldn't see his chest moving, I called more desperately, felt for a pulse, shook his shoulder, felt his hand. He was cold, but not fully stiff. It looked like he'd coughed up some bloody liquid on his shoulder, a little around the corners of his mouth, his eyes open slits. I could not process it. I checked again.
Then I actually went to get the mail. I was in a daze. I only barely made it, the woman there told me to have a good day and I could only make a little moan noise. All the way back I was praying, desperately hoping, that it was all a mistake, that I was wrong somehow, this couldn't be happening, this coiuldn't be real. He was the same. I even pounded his chest a few times, it was sure. I called 911, they had to ask me certain questions. While I waited, I put some new water and food in the bathroom for the kitties.
State police officers came first, and it was apparent to the older one right away. He took me outside to sit in his car; I took a housecoat my dad had been using for warmth inside. He'd been so cold all the time lately. I've been wearing the housecoat since. It's no help. Hot and cold come over me in waves, all the time. I don't know what I'm going to do.
We had to wait so long. The coroner came after a while, she had to take pictures etc. She came to talk to me, I had to write a report for the police officer. She suggested a survivor support group. I can't recall the name now. I
He had all his stuff in the briefcase next to his chair, so they got all that info, and called the funeral home that he arranged his pre-paid cremation and burial with. Still, we had to wait for detectives to come out, matter of course. And I had to call Patsy. She luckily did answer. Devastated. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't. I sent an e-mail to Renee. I desperately, deeply hope that she DOES check those e-mails, they're the only way I have to contact her. I truly hope she got the message.
I. I'd planned on going out that day anyway. I had prescriptions that had to be picked up before they disappeared. He'd asked me to get him fried chicken with potatoes while I was out, the night before. We'd watched TV, were talking. We'd finished Voyager and WKRP, now we'd started Northern Exposure. I'd made a brisket, got him a bowl of that, with some curry and hamburger helper on the side, all mixed up. Now, I still have the bowl on the stovetop, covered but not cleaned up. I keep telling myself when I see it that he ate half of it. He ate half of it. He ate the food I made for him. That. That was so positive. He'd been good about drinking plenty of water. This doesn't seem real. A small part of me, not most of me but a small part, is in total denial. So that part keeps getting surprised over again. I've been trying to distract myself. I know this is going to blindside me for.... ever? I can't even imagine the future. It seems too cruel. This is too terrible. It seems utterly unnecessary. How can this be.
Covid means that 24 hr places aren't open all the time anymore. Saturday night I tried, I wandered stores in a daze, mask on, trying to keep from a terrible breakdown. I got home and it was all still true. omg. One of the officers there, he remembered my dad teaching him how to shoot. I asked him to spread the word to any he thought would want to know. Another one there, he was one of the EMTs who'd been out here before. When I got home Saturday, I got on my dad's account, made an announcement on his facebook, made one on my facebook. Tomorrow I am going to the funeral home with Patsy, to see him one last time, sign papers for the cremation process to begin. I'll go out to eat with her. Today, I got a couple calls. After picking up the mail, I went over to Lida's house right nearby. I had tried looking up address lists in his files and already found some that I had no sure or immediate contact for. Lida was close, friends the whole time we've been out here, used to be the postmistress. She let me sit in her house all afternoon, crying, talking, making some phone calls. Her son, Billy, actually knows Sara that I worked with at Serco. He made me a sandwich, gave me some water and electrolytes. I nibbled. Lida's alone too, and she knows the loneliness is the worst. She's lucky to have her son there with her now. Her husband had a stroke and was in a nursing home 10 years before he died. Oh God, at least my dad didn't have to do that. I know being severely disabled was a real fear he had. It's not what he wanted for himself. His father was disabled from old war wounds his whole life, but they didn't have the kind of benefits my dad got from his service. My aunt, she's cared for her parents, her sisters, her husband, her mother in law, all of them till death, and her son committed suicide when I was a kid. She's older than my dad too! She's an old woman. She's been a rock, and now, we only have each other. We're each other's only family!
The other day, that hit me while I was upstairs. I'm alone, surrounded by my parents stuff. But more than that - nobody has a shared memory a shared history here with me. I'm the only one with any memories of this house, the things. It doesn't feel real. It gave me an existential crisis for a moment, it still does. I start question if I'M real. Nothing about this feels real. It feels too terrible.
I know I'm never going to totally stop going back to why and what if. Because there are no answers. The worst of all this is all the possibilities are GONE. There's NOTHING that can be done about those, they'll never happen. I can't imagine the future. The rest of my life, without him! I'll never talk to him again. He'll never talk to me! We talked every day. I loved him so much. I don't know how I'm going to handle him being GONE, not there anywhere at all. I just don't know what I'm going to do.
I keep getting so frustrated - wheels were in motion! I was doing things! It was going to be handled, and we'd have help and if he could just get over this hurdle then we could get him over the next. I was so hopeful that he'd get BETTER, just a little bit. But I guess he just couldn't manage one suddenly. I know he was so depressed and that never helps health, he'd never been bedridden in his life and in the past couple of weeks he couldn't even walk. I was helping him go to the bathroom. He was living in that chair, and needed help regularly. I know that was eating at him, that it was unbearable. I was trying to be positive, but not overly so. I let him know that I was on top of it. I wish I'd said it more plainly now, more often. Just explicitly told him that there was no burden he could be to me, that I would do as much as I could as long as it took, that we could get through this together. But I'm not even sure how bad it was to him. He talked to his doctor the Thursday before last. He said he was getting worse. I'll call his doctor, I want to know what they discussed. I wish I told him so many things. I wish a lot of things. When I went out on Saturday, I got my Covid booster, and had the hope that it'd give me the mercy of sleeping all Sunday. I was sore and tired, but sadly was awake. I stayed up as late as I could the night before. Distraction in full. I kept the tv on upstairs for the kitties all day. Part of me wants to think I can hear him. I had to have noise to drown it.
I talked on the phone with my bestie for about two hours. I have a couple of friends who have lose their fathers. I know they know. At least in part. Some of it. And I trust them both.
I just can't imagine the future at all.