For my dad, three weeks early

You are my one dad. A person I can spend weeks with and not feel a twinge of annoyance. A man I admire and love purely. You make me laugh like a kookaburra whenever I see you, your jokes so awful and funny at the same time. As a kid, I thought you were the smartest person in the world. I still respect your intellect. Theobromine. You were the only one who knew the answer. 

I remember slipping my little girl hand into yours--big and dry and safe. You made me feel valuable and capable and like I could do things in life.  You were gentle and fair when I was young, as you are with my children. They adore you. Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa! You give them tractor rides and play games and let them pick your potatoes and pumpkins.

And then this weekend your heart betrayed you. Even typing those words, I have to wipe my face and blow my nose on scratchy coffee shop napkins. You were gardening and when you stood, you felt pain that was your heart gasping for blood and oxygen it wasn't getting.

You and mom were wise to drive to the hospital right away. That night I went to bed, knowing you'd had chest pains and were there in a room hooked to monitors. I hoped you weren't anxious or lonely.

The next morning, mom called at 7:30, waking me out of a light sleep to tell me your chest pains had, indeed, been a full blown heart attack and that it was likely still happening.

Nervous, I called your room, but you were unconscious by then, your arteries being probed and widened. The nurse had moved you ahead of everyone else in line that day to get a heart catheter, and for that we will always be grateful.

I checked flights. Miraculously, I had enough miles to fly to Michigan. But J. was succumbing to a painful virus he'd rather I not name. It was a bad time for me to leave. When I got you on the phone later that afternoon, you were still a little drugged, but your usual whip-smart, coherent self. I missed you. I missed mom and Carrie. I wanted to be in it with you all. J. encouraged me to go, despite how he felt. But you said there was no need. You joked. You reassured me.

I must've refreshed Delta.com twenty times in the course of Sunday afternoon and evening. Should I go? Would I be extraneous there while J. needs me here? What do I do?

Now you're back home, letting out the dog, resting your stunned heart, looking over your fields of seedlings. And I am in Seattle. Thanking the God I don't believe in that you're alive and well.

A bubble has burst, though. A quivering sphere of safety has popped and now we're all out here, vulnerable to the whims of your arteries. Keep them strong. Will them strong. Be alive and well for another decade or two. Maybe three?

I want to snorkel with you in Hawaii next winter, help you arrange your market flowers--assuming mom lets you continue with that :)--, watch you rumble around your acreage with Max and Claire next to you on the John Deere, and sit on the porch with you this summer drinking beer (can you still?) watching the sun dip below the western trees.

Comments

[Parul]

Hang in there Angie, glad your father's safe and hopefully you will get to spend some time with him soon....

[Vanessa McGrady Spiller]

This is a gift, Angie. It's a gift for your dad that you can say all you need to, and it's a gift for you that your dad is still here. Lovely. And you see this. This is good.

[Jennifer Jo]

I can feel that this---the bursting bubble---is coming to my family, too. You expressed the pain so well...

[Crisanna]

It's a mind-shattering day when the ones we've always relied on for strength are betrayed by the weakness of their bodies. I'm also whispering a prayer of thanks - for your dad, and for mine.

[Bev]

Echoing Vanessa, this is a gift, this raw notice of the fragility of life.

Since we came to marriage later, after many painful, abusive years for me in a previous marriage, I have consciously valued every day with Rich after we married 25 years ago. Still, when he had a minor (thankfully!) heart episode 3 years ago, it sharpened the focus even more on how lucky I am to have all of this.

Yes, difficult to believe, but a warning like this truly is a beautiful gift.

[M]

Beautiful, darling girl. He will love it!

[kcinnova]

Angie, I'm sorry you've had to go through this experience (and your dad and your mom). It's hard enough to face the possible loss of a parent, but to have to juggle your needs, your feelings, their feelings, their needs with those of your husband and children... so difficult.

Having to face glimpses of the end is awful, painful, torturous at times even. But it is better than never having the chance to say what perhaps hasn't yet been said, to show the ones you love how much they mean to us.

Each of my parents is giving me that opportunity to grow in letting go, to forgive what I can't change and just love them for who they are. As others have already said, it's a gift.

[journeytoepiphany]

This is a beautiful post. I love the part of thanking the God you don't believe in. It reminds me a little of the old statement that there are no atheists in fox holes.

[Averil]

What a beautiful thing for your dad to find on the other side of a painful and frightening experience. I wish I'd tried to write before I lost my dad. You've said so many of the things he would have loved to hear.

[Rachael]

When that bubble pops, it sucks so much. But I agree with Averil, we all should write these kinds of things for the ones we love.

[Su G]

Arms around you all.

[leslie]

Hugs to you all. Xoxo

[Nancy]

I read and enjoy all your posts but this one struck a nerve. Brought back memories for me of a similar experience. Actually, of two similar times; one with my Mom and one with my Dad. Not knowing whether to go or stay with the other family you've made. I feel for you and pray your Dad will be ok. And the whole thing about praying to a God you don't believe in...perhaps you do believe but just aren't sure about it all. I know that feeling well, too. Bottom line, this is a beautiful tribute to your Dad. I can tell how much you love him. Keep up the good work and cherish the time you have with him!

[TMcD]

Thank you, sweet Angie. Thank you, thank you.

Love, Dad

[Rita]

What a beautiful love note to your daddy.

Thank God he's ok.