NEVER PREPARED, NEVER READY - GOODBYE DAD...

No matter how prepared we think we are, we are never really ready to say goodbye forever to those we love.  I've had this rude awakening twice already with the loss of my sister and oldest brother.  My brother Don was given a time-line.  An "expiration date" I remember strangely thinking.  My sister Donna's decision to end her life was a different kind of shock but upon reflection in the years following, not so surprising.  

Then, 6:30am this past Monday morning, my mother got the call that my father had unexpectedly passed in his sleep very early that morning.  He first called the nurses at 3am to take him to the toilet  - because he was still adamantly not surrendering to the bedpan and diaper regimen that his nurses aids imposed on him.  Then sometime shortly thereafter he left us.  I love how he left with his last bit of dignity after all.   He passed within hours of my late sister's birthday.   I hope my Songbird Flew Him To Sleep.

Every day for over a week leading up to his death, I watched my father at the rehabilitation center become more and more withdrawn.  A once strong, powerful and gorgeous man reduced to a hospital bed and full dependency on others to move.  Yet he still ate with a determination to live, he still strived through his physical therapy appointments everyday determined to reach his 100 steps so he could go home (he got up to 50), he still had both his disdain for bad service and his humor about his own lack of tolerance for it.  He was still a man.  A proud determined man. 

Each evening before leaving the hospital, I would kiss him on the cheek, tell him I loved him and that we were going to get him strong enough to come home.  Soon.  He would always say, "I love you too, Dane".  (not a typo that's what he called me - Mimamoski Bratt was my other nickname all through childhood - although that's a long story.) 

This week has been one of the most powerful and meaningful times in my life.  Every day my brothers and I have worked 12+ hours giving my mother's house a much needed makeover that our father would have loved but never allowed, as he hated anyone going through his stuff and was always afraid I would break any appliance I touched!  (my other nickname from my brothers my whole life was "glass breaker" & "spiller" - for good reason.  Piero, Walter and Jon can all attest to that after several occasions of coffee ending up on their luggage in the van, wine on their clothes, etc.)  

After every long cathartic work day, we sat around the dinner table laughing and crying with our mother and our loved ones.  Going through old photos, discussing things we found that day -  like letters between two lovers who had been together since they were 15 years old - and all the little keepsakes my parents saved of our school projects, cards over the years, you name it.  Everything it seemed they kept!  Everything since the beginning of "us" and "them".  Even some artwork done by my father when we were children, reminding of us his talents that went unrecognized and largely unused most of his life as he struggled to provide for 6 children.  

Being the youngest, I started out a Daddy's girl who would wait up at night for this tower of a man to come home and let me hang form his neck.  On the very late nights, I would stay up as long as my little body would allow.  Eventually, I got too tall for hanging, reaching 6' by age 11!  And not long after, I became an angry young woman who didn't have the wisdom or capacity to forgive and understand the imperfections of this man who battled so many demons his whole life.  If I were to write his biography now it would make anyone with half a heart simply break down and weep.   However, through it all he still tried to be a father.  There was a Christmas tree every year with presents - even during the slim years which were many.  There were Hallowe'en costumes he made by hand; he gave us bicycles and lessons; footballs, uniforms & lessons; carpentry lessons for my brothers; our living room turned into a music room for Don & Donna's first band; turned us on to good music and so on.  It took me growing up a bit to more to realize how much he DID pull off considering how badly he was suffering even long before my brothers and I came along. Our relationship was strained for many years.  Then as I approached my late twenties and started to search for more answers the wisdom finally began to hit home.   He was a good man, but in many ways a broken man - determined to completely beat those demons yet never quite able to.

The last few years when my mother became very ill, my father and I became friends after being forced alone together for many days where I had to do all the driving & shopping!  Those days were so precious to me.  We laughed so hard at my lead foot and his backseat driving.  We then actually began talking on the phone several times a week when I was off the road!  He loved hearing about the places I'd been and loved telling me all the places he had been as a Marine.  We also joked about the volatility of our relationship and how we were both stubborn Capricorns.  He admitted his failures and I accepted his apologies.   He was sober now for a few years and I got to know the man I was in awe of as a little girl who then only saw him for his potential.  In the end, knowing all I know now, I am in even more awe.  I am so grateful for our closeness these past few years.  Albeit, making it that much harder to lose him.  

Now I try to imagine my mother enduring the rest of her years without her one true love.   I want to take all of her pain away but I know I can't.  I want to be rid of this giant heartache of my own, but I know I can't.   I want to tell my brothers It will all be okay when I watch them break down hard in tears for the first time in my life, but I can't make such a promise.  My mother's sister, already a widow for 10 years, told her that you never get over it, but you learn to live with it.  When my mother first got the news she broke down in sobs asking,   "Who will I watch football with?"   So my brothers and I made a pact that she will always have one or all of us to watch the games with her.  Looks like I'm going to have to find time in between touring to meet my brothers in Florida for some football!  

My father's passing last Monday has left me wondering how we ever can prepare for something we are never ready for.  Something we want to deny the inevitability of every day.  Why doesn't it get any easier?   Maybe because we do not really spend enough time thinking about the fragility and insecurity of life?  Maybe because we think we know we are going to die but deep down we don't really believe it?  I see now why some religions, especially Buddhism suggest we spend a few minutes a day contemplating our own death and making peace with the idea, while also using it as a reminder of the precious human life that we have NOW and could lose at any moment.   I also see why it's important to find a balance in life.  An equanimity that doesn't let the highs get too high or the lows too low.  Our mind creates our every moment of our own life.  How DO I want my mind to be for the next inevitable loss?  For the day my time comes?  I hope it's more peaceful and accepting to say the least.  What if it's actually blissful?  Well, that will take some training of my mind no doubt.  

Thank you all for the amazing support you have shown me through this and many of you on all of these journey's off loss and love and celebrating life.  I won't deny that my heart deeply, deeply aches, but I know this is part of life.  I will close by saying I wish you all happiness and equanimity now and in all of your days to come.

With All My Love,

Dana