It took my dad four days to die, well actually it took him 64 years. The long, slow, miserable part took four days. As I watched him fade away I experienced anger, denial, misery, loneliness and felt cheated for not having been able to spend any time alone with him. It was not exactly the time to demand his attention. Everyone needed him...or more accurately needed to comfort him, to let go of him. I remember wishing it would happen faster so I could get on with trying to live without him. I wandered hospital halls, slept in uncomfortable chairs, smoked Marlboro's and ate only when forced. I felt so alone within my own self-constructed walls even though I was surrounded by my family and friends. Visitors came and left...to say goodbye, to show respect and they each had the right. They had all been touched by my dad and that was important. How was I going to live without him? I kept asking myself that question and then it dawned on me...When I first found out I was pregnant with Francesca I told my dad first, even before Clint. I was so scared and so worried Clint would not be happy because he was too old to have any more children. My dad was thrilled beyond belief and knew Clint would be too. And he also knew that the little girl growing inside me would help carry me through a life that would no longer include my best friend, my dad. Francesca was two and a half when he died and she doesn't remember much but I fill in the details. I still have days like this filled with tears and memories and wish that I could have just five minutes, just five more minutes.
what a very heart-felt story you've told, Kyle. And the photo is priceless. My father died 9 years ago, and while we weren't close, sometimes I feel like it was just yesterday that he was dancing around the kitchen and making stew.
ReplyDeletevery touching blog. I know how you feel, I'd like to have at least five minutes with a special guy in my life that is no longer here too. It is great that we can share our memories of these great men with our children so they get to know how special these men were.
ReplyDeleteI felt like it could have been me writing a lot of those thoughts, especially the hospital part, where you wanted him to yourself. I hated most visitors, and couldn't understand why, at the time. Thanks so much for sharing this personal story Kyle.
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