Back in April, my dad came to see one of Natalie’s games. Although I mismanaged it and we lost, he had a chance to see her pitch, both in warm-ups in the bullpen and in the game where she mowed down just about every batter she faced. That day he had trouble getting around, exacerbated somewhat by the fact that parking at the Piedmont field is pretty far from where the games are played. I didn’t have a good idea about his discomfort that day until he hobbled down to the bullpen on the right field side and witnessed Nat’s fastball and change up combination.
We had a few opportunities to see and hang out with him, but it was always in the context of a family gathering, most of that time would be spent sitting around a dinner table. I guess I equated his immobility with simple stiffness. It wasn’t until late June that I became aware of the circulatory condition in his leg.
Thursday was another jam packed day. Work, getting the house ready for the new tenant, getting the van fixed, practice, a hospital visit, and on top of that an invitation to see Robben Ford at Yoshi’s. Our hospital visit went very well. Eric had spent the day with a buddy of his, he wouldn’t be allowed due to his age, nor would any of us have been comfortable having him along in the ICU at Eden Hospital. Mary Ann, Natalie and I met my mom there, my dad was in bed connected to a number of apparatuses. He seemed weak, but content, he smiled often, as we all did. Not once did it occur to me that this was the last time I’d speak to him.
I’m home and in bed by midnight. I’d told myself earlier in the evening that this was the night I’d break my little cycle of insomnia and finally get a good night’s sleep. And as good as the show was, I remember feeling just a tad sleepy as we sat tossing back a couple beers and a few sushi appetizers.
I’ve lost relatives to a number of afflictions, most related to old age. Many friends have lost parents as we’ve all grown older, I’ve wondered at various times what it would be like when the time came for an immediate family member, even my own time.
I’d settled in to sleep after briefly telling Mary Ann about the show at Yoshi’s. She would have enjoyed it, but she’s not one to be passionate about mostly instrumental music ala Robben Ford. In what seemed like no time at all, the phone, perched right above me on the headboard shattered the silence, and as if in a dream I answered. My mom’s voice on the other end assured me it was no dream. My dad had gone code blue and she said he probably wouldn’t make it. With her pragmatic delivery and my understanding of the severity of the situation, I was off the phone and getting dressed in about thirty seconds, shortly on the freeway and on my way to Eden Hospital.
I though about speeding down there as I left the house, then I looked over my shoulder at the assortment of softball equipment shifting in the back of the van. I had my CHP excuse at the ready, but the more I thought about it, the less I saw the need to speed down there. As I drove southward I was so full of hope, I kept imagining that he would pull through. These hopes were dashed, after making it into the hospital and getting somewhat lost on the way to ICU, I was greeted by a nurse whose first utterance to me was “I’m sorry.”
The day after I’m in kind of a state of shock. I met my family at the hospital the night he died and wasn’t back home until around 4:30am, awake again around 7:30. The ability to get up consistently before the sun rises is directly attributable to my dad, once the sun is up, my time to sleep is over. The first day was kind of a roller coaster ride, but still very surreal. I tried to occupy myself with some of the tasks I knew I needed to do, but I was very distracted and unfocused. I don’t want to give the wrong impression, I wasn’t blubbering away uncontrollably, but I’d relax and lay back a bit to settle myself, realize the gravity of the situation and take stock emotionally. Two of Mary Ann’s sisters called that afternoon after their mom delivered the news and the opportunity to talk to them about it really helped put my mind at ease. Before then, around noon, I received a sympathy call from a friend, I had trouble getting words out without a sustained pause now and then. But after talking it through with Marjorie, I became confident and able to make some calls to other friends of mine who’d gotten to know my dad.
Saturday rolls along and we have a softball tournament. There was never a question of missing it in light of his recent passing, at the risk of sounding cliché, this is what dad would have wanted. I only mentioned it to a couple of people throughout the day, but when we were finished with our third game (which we won), I huddled the kids together and explained to them how important the team was to me, and that their efforts this long day in the sun were appreciated in a heart-felt manner.
His passing is sad, but there are a number of positives to draw from. He lived each of his 79 and a half years to the fullest. He was known, loved, and respected by many, liked by even more. Devoted and loving husband, father of 6, grandfather of 9. He was a living example of fairness, compassion and tolerance. 22 years ago the surgeon who performed his triple bypass estimated that he’d extended his life by 10 – 15 years, every day beyond that was like a bonus. My family is at peace with the outcome, there was very little suffering, for which we are all very grateful.
I will miss him very, very much.