Dad

It has taken me a while to write this post. 2 weeks, 3 days to be exact (longer now because I am just getting back to this on November 25th). My father passed away on September 8th unexpectedly. It was the most heartwrenching day of my life. One I knew would come some day, but I did not expect it then. He had many ailments~emphysema, an aortic dissection, congestive heart failure and an overall weakened heart. We learned how weak last February when he went into Mass. General for some tests. He had been bleeding profusely from his nose one week. It had happened a couple of times within a week and, after returning from Carney Hospital one day, I had to drive him to Mass. General because it started again before I left my parents' house.

While at MGH they had to take him off of his blood pressure and fluid meds. to do an endoscopy and a colonoscopy. When they brought him back to his room after the tests his blood pressure shot up over 200 and his lungs filled with fluid~two liters to be exact. They gave him meds to reverse the blood pressure and drained the fluid out of his lungs. They had to intubate him and, we were told, he fought to pull the tube out so they had to sedate him as well. We spoke to one of the drs. who oversaw him and was told that we should discuss a do not resuscitate because it "could be 3 weeks or three months" before we had this type of situation again and that his heart was working "at a fraction of what it should be". This did not come as a huge surprise at the time. He had several ailments and had an aortic repair 10+ year prior. I was taken back by the brutal honesty of the dr. I was annoyed, angry and saddened. I didn't find it necessary for him to be so brutally honest. We spoke to three other drs. who were in charge of his care and a nurse. All told us that his heart was weak but that they could not say how long it would last. The nurse also made sure we knew that the situation that happened in the hospital was the result of the circumstances surrounding his tests~taking him off the medication that he clearly needed~and that at home he should be fine as long as he took them faithfully.

We passed the three month mark and I let my guard down. Thought that dr. was wrong. Over the summer I was able to get him up to the beach twice. He hadn't walked to the beach, which is only four houses away, in two years. He was too winded from the emphysema to make the walk over the small sand mound that leads to the beach. I was so happy he was there and so was he. It was his (and my) most favorite place to be. Brian, I and the kids spent Labor Day Weekend with my parents in Humarock. I always have. This Labor Day weekend was chaotic because we had been without power for 6 days prior due to Hurricane Irene. We actually went to Humarock sooner this year because power was restored there before it was in Norwell. Unfortunately, my parents didn't come down until Friday. The weekend, although we were there, was crazy. I was trying to finish up getting the kids ready for school, running back and forth to the laundromat to get caught up on the mounds of laundry from days of not being able to do it at home and tried to fit in last minute day trips. Although we were at Humarock~it wasn't quality time with my parents and I regret that greatly. On Monday night we left for home.

The kids started school on Wednesday. Brian took the week off to see them off on their first day of school. We took the twins to a movie on Wednesday after we saw the older ones off. I hadn't spoken to my parents since Monday and thought to myself that I had to call them. I forgot.

On Thursday I was making dinner while the twins painted a box in the kitchen. They were really making a mess and I thought to myself at one point that I was surprised at how calm I was with it all. I returned to making dinner and at 3:08 jumped as if startled. My first thought was that I realized I missed getting the kids off the bus. When I realized that I was too early, my next thought was that I still hadn't called my parents and I had to do so. I reminded myself to do so when the kids got home and I got them settled and started on homework.

We went to get them off the bus and while waiting I got the call about my father. Ironically, we knew one of the EMT's who worked on him. He was in line at a corner store near my parents house waiting to turn in a scratch ticket when he had the heart attack. From what we were told there was a pulse initially. It stopped and when CPR was started it started again. Then stopped. The EMT told me at the wake that the first call came in at 2:57. They arrived on scene at 3:02. I guess you have to believe in this, but I truly believe that my father passed away at 3:08 and, as many people have said to me, he passed through me to say goodbye. That, surprisingly, has brought me peace.

The pain was still unbearable in the beginning. Excrutiating. Like nothing I have ever felt before and would never want to feel again. The loss, the emptiness, lonliness, and desire to get him back. As I said to one friend, "I want to shake someone and shout at them to give him back!" Although the sadness is still there, as is the emptiness, I am doing ok. Thanksgiving was tough. We stayed home with the kids. It was good for me, although the kids didn't understand why I didn't want to see family. The thought of being together without my father was too much for me to bear. I did well until the night before when I sobbed while cooking. I still want him back, but know it is not going to happen.

There have been other signs that I have been given from him that he is ok. I know they are real. Those also have helped. I still want him back but am moving on. The kids have been a real distraction. It also helps when they talk of him and things they remember about him. I love to hear their stories and recollections. It brings a smile to my face, although sometimes through tears.

Life does move on and I know I will see him again someday.

Boyisms...

While my mother was on the telephone at my house the other day, I was trying to listen to her conversation so that I would be able to help her if necessary. I had asked Brendan to stop talking several times. Here is how the conversation proceeded...
Me: "Can you stop talking? Do you ever stop talking?"
Him: "Sorry, I have a mouth."

Today all the kids were playing in the Kulik's yard across the street. All were rolling down their front lawn. Patrick stopped at one point and lied in the grass. While lying there I asked him to get up so he didn't get any ticks. I told him that if he didn't get up and got ticks who would remove them because I wasn't. His response:

"You have to, your my mother."