And Your Father Dies in the Meantime

For the better of the last 10 months I tried to force myself to find a way to love someone I really wanted to be in love with. Of course, we all know you can’t will yourself to be in love with someone if that feeling just isn’t there.

He was an intriguing, handsome Highlander. I’ve always had an interest in that side of my family. Wanted to know and understand Scots Gaelic … when I met him, it seemed like a unique opportunity to meet the person I felt as though I’d been searching for. But in the end, it wasn’t the fit that I’d hoped for. He thought it was perfect, I wanted to believe it was true. I tried. I sent him away and let him come back. I was hopeful, weak, tried to see something that wasn’t actually there.

In August I left to trek across the country, once again, with my niece. Her new assignment was taking her back out west to South Dakota. Coincidentally, the area where he’d grown up. I thought perhaps once I got back there may be a better connection between the two of us … I never really got that chance.

After reaching the destination, I stayed to explore the area with her for a few more days, the one day that week we were both off and made plans to explore, it was hotter than hell. It reached 112 degrees. But I try to stay hydrated; I do. I had water with me the whole time. Little did I know I was already behind the 8 ball.

That night, once we were back at her new place, we were settled in, something felt off. I was lightheaded, my stomach was so upset. I went to brush my teeth around midnight and passed out for the first time in the bathroom. Got up, thought I was fine, and passed out again for the 2nd of what would be approximately 6 fainting spells. My niece, being the smarter of the two of us, forced me to go the hospital she was supposed to begin training at the very next day. I had an inexplicably low blood pressure, my body temperature was reaching frighteningly low levels, and I was severely dehydrated. My body kept defying me at every turn.

I finally moved from the ER to a room after being there for almost a day, and started my recovery. The doctors kept telling me I had all kinds of things. I didn’t believe any of it, to be honest.

Meanwhile, the morning just after we’d set out to explore, my sister-in-law had called my niece to say my Dad was having a cardiac event. He was on his way to the hospital by ambulance … which is a bit of a red flag in my family. My Dad never wants to go to the ER, never wants an ambulance called … it has to be pretty bad for that to happen. But it had.

He went from going to the local hospital, to being airlifted to the best hospital in the state, which is a 6 hour drive from where we grew up. I was (hoping) to be about to be released from the hospital, when my sister-in-law called again and said that we needed to book flights home.

I got on the line with United as quickly as I could. I got my niece and I on the earliest flight out of there the next morning. We flew back to ME, and spent the next 3 days with the rest of our family sitting, taking turns, with my Dad.

He didn’t have any surgical or medical options for treatment, post heart-attack. He understood and wanted to go home with hospice care. My Mother, well, not so much. It was a difficult journey, to say the least. We left the hospital on September 6th, and I stayed at home in ME until October 7th.

My Dad passed away in the early evening on October 3rd.

There was a lot of time for us to talk, just he and I, during this month of home hospice care. We all took turns staying the night with him. I was the other readhead in the family. We had a special bond. My brother may have been the only son, but there was a unique connection that my father and I had; I can’t explain it. Sometimes it appeared aloof, as though we weren’t really close, when it was the complete opposite.

Some of those nights I’d be sitting beside him, and he’d look at me, those blue eyes twinkling, and fire barbs off. One thing he never lost throughout all of this was his sense of humor. One night he looked at me and asked, “How did you become so sweet, anyway?” I literally laughed out loud.

In the end, he imparted a lot of really lovely things along the way. Stuff I wish he’d shared before, but he probably never really had the opportunity to share. I’d finally gotten married at 40, my mother loved (really loved) my ex-husband but my father was just really happy for me. When the marriage failed 5 years later, I was so ashamed to face him. I felt like such a failure. I went home for a surprise anniversary party around Thanksgiving right after we separated, and I’d moved out. My brother and sister-in-law kept it a secret that I was coming home. I was ok when they drove in, my mother got out of the car and hugged me. Then my Dad got out and came up to me and I crumbled.

He caught me, as all good Dad’s do, and held on to me so tightly. He told me it didn’t matter what had happened. He was not disappointed. He was glad I took a chance on someone and that it was ok, it was ok it didn’t work out. He just wanted to know if I was ok. He let me cry on him for 30 minutes in that garage, when people were waiting to “surprise him” for his anniversary; no hurry, no unnecessary words Just his big, tree trunk arms holding me in and letting me have the emotional fall out I hadn’t had until that moment.

My Father was truly one of the last of his kind.

My Mother asked me to please give the eulogy at his services, because in her words, “no one else will be able to be as strong as you…” I was fine, right up until the moment I had to stand before almost 75 people, at our little Veterans’ cemetery … and finally say something. Turns out someone that I’d seen for a bit, a former Marine, had been watching the live stream of the service and told me that he was extremely proud of my poise and that he was sure my Father had been, too. That I’d done beautiful job of speaking of my Dad.

I’ve always respected and cared deeply for him; so I know that he meant it and I will always hold that close to my heart; even though in the moment I felt like I was failing him all over again.

I was a very lucky girl to have been given the father that I had. He was serious, but his sense of humor preceded him. He was the kindest person you could have ever met, he loved his neighbors, cared about his community and helped wherever he could, whenever he could.

It’s been a little over a month since we said good-bye. I still hear his voice and feel him everywhere I go … but this Christmas is going to be very different. Our family may have lost our Patriarch, but this word lost an exceptional man.

I hope that another soul will come along, one day, to replace his.

Love. My Father met this guy. He visited, brought my dog to see me; and when he left to go back home, mt Dad asked me if that was real. I told him the whole story and he gave me a sharp look.

Once I returned, I realized that I had to deal with one more extremely difficult thing, break it off with the Highlander. It was not easy, it hurt too … but it was also something I knew had to happen.

Here’s to hoping I that one day I receive 1/4 the wisdom and courage that my father had.