10.13.2022
I guess the fates weren't finished with me yet. I don't believe in fate, luck, or spiritual powers, but I have no other way to describe how my life has been going. On 09.30.2022, I began negotiations on a wonderful job offer. It's been great. I'm still negotiating, but things are looking good with work. Now that that's out of the way:
My Mom called me on the evening of 09.30.2022 and told me that my Dad was having some sort of cardiac issue. She said she was on the way to the hospital. My Mom, Dad, and two of their neighbors had been playing pickleball. Then, my Dad had started to feel tired. He vomited and had difficulty breathing. My Mom had seen the signs and called the ambulance.
It was an eight hour drive and I did not recieve updates while I traveled. My hands were shaking and I was too upset to drive. My partner drove me. She knew she needed to be there for me, so I'm thankful she came. I recalled the stories I heard about my Grandfather (Dad's side) and his cardiac issues. He had had two heart attacks, and had two stents put in. He later died of Leukemia in his mid-sixties. At first, I had hope. But, as I rode in the car, I pieced together why Mom didn't respond to any texts. I started to process my worst fears in the car and prepare myself. If my Dad had gotten a stent and was stable, she would have told me as soon as she knew.
When I arrived at the hospital, it felt as if my worst nightmare had come true. My Dad had passed away around 8:30pm. I arrived at 1:30am. He was 56. They had performed chest compressions for hours and shocked him multiple times. Both at the house when the ambulance arrived, and in the hospital. He likely died of a complete blockage of the left anterior descending (LAD) artery. (He did not feel any chest pain at all months, weeks, days, or hours before. Medical professionals in my family suspect it was because a piece of arterial plaque broke free during physical activity.)
Everyone was shocked by how sudden this was. We had hiked over one thousand stairs together at Tallulah Gorge state park exactly two months ago. My Mom and Dad were planning for an early retirement so that they could spend more time together. My Dad was making jewelry out of recycled computer parts so that he could donate the proceeds to mutual aid. They were planning to visit my sister for thanksgiving, and had already bought plane tickets.
At the hospital, long before I arrived, he had coded and come back multiple times. The lack of oxygen supplied to his body and mind was too severe at that point for him to make a recovery. The doctor told my Mom to hold his hand, and say goodbye. She did. They then let him go.
I said goodbye to him when I arrived at the hospital. My Mom, my sister, my partner, and me cried over his body there. We held his hand. My Dad's best friend was there. He had shown up with twenty to thirty of my Dad's close coworkers who showed up at 1am to pay their respects and say goodbye. His impact on everyone he met was immeasurable. The next morning, at the funeral home, we all took the last chance to say goodbye. He looked peaceful there. We spent hours crying over him again, just wishing things could have gone differently. Speaking to him. Kissing him on the forehead. Bargaining and reasoning and trying to understand why. As soon as we left, the organ donation people came by the collect what they could use to help others. My dad was adamant about his body being used to aid others.
The absolute terror of losing my Dad was crushing during those first few days.
I spent time at my Mom's house helping her settle some affairs. I cried with her, hugged her, and spoke to her. There were so many people who reached out and spoke on how important my Dad was to them. Coworkers who loved his patience and kindness, and friends who appreciated his even-keeled presence and unconditional love. My Dad had stated that his purpose was to be a husband and a father. He dedicated his life to his family. He taught me and my sister curiosity, humility, and devotion to our loved ones. I told multiple friends of mine that without a doubt, I would not be the person I am today without him. My values, kindness, and capacity for love came from him and my Mom.
I read that grief changes people. I read that it's something you carry with you, but do not leave behind. I'm going to have to work very hard to feel okay in this world when I've been rocked by this sudden death. It would be easy for my mind to extrapolate that death could be around any corner, if it could come so suddenly as this. But I know I can't let that thought run free.
I live my life to the fullest, and so did my Dad. He never left anything unsaid. He never let me leave without a hug, an "I'm proud of you" and an "I love you." Those are the most imporant things I can do for my loved ones.
Materially, financially, I'll be fine. My Mom and sister will be okay. My Mom is working on sorting through both her own direction in life, as well as the trauma of seeing the repeated attempts to resuscitate my Dad on both her living room floor and in the hospital. We've all been thrust in a new, unwanted direction. One that often feels nightmarish and terrible. A timeline that shouldn't be. I always have to walk back to my principles though and remember that I don't believe in fate and alternate timelines. The universe is ultimately random. Multitudes of choices, coincidences, and factors all played into my Dad's death. There are too many to tease apart. There is no single place to lay blame. It's upsetting that a single cause of something like this can't be pointed at. All I can do is allow myself to transform with this change, remember my values, and see a cardiologist in twenty years.
When I picture myslef in the future, changed by all of this, these are the ways I want to transform. I will not allow despair to control my future. This is my manifesto on how my life will be:
1. I will take less shit. I will not stay at jobs that take time away from my family and friends. I will not spend time with people who drain me. Life is too short for that.
2. I will continue to stand up for what I believe in. My principles will only become stronger.
3. I will fight against denial. I will tackle problems head on.
4. The world is a worse place without my Dad. I will not make it even darker by losing my own capacity for love.
5. I will live with purpose. My purpose is to put love into the world through my relationships with my family and friends, and the things I create. My purpose is to recieve love with my whole heart, without fear.
This sucks, and I'm going to cry a lot. I'm going to cry every time I see something that reminds me of him. I'm going to lean on my friends and family. I'm going to be okay. I just wasn't ready for him to leave.
I'll end this post with a couple of quotes that I've been holding close to myself. One or both of these might be included in the eulogy I write.
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"And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy." - Excerpt from Desiderata by Max Ehrmann
"For small creatures as we the vastness is bearable only through love." - Carl Sagan
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I owe a lot of my thoughts here to Megan Devine. Her book It's Ok That You're Not Ok and the exercises within it are helping me understand my turmoil. I'm lost right now, but I'd be even more lost without this book.
Please, do not let your loved ones ever leave a visit or a phone call without telling them how important they are to you.