So then why the feeling of sorrow? Well just over a week ago my father took ill with labored breathing. He had been a heavy smoker for years so this was not too strange. He had some health problems on and off for the past couple of months but nothing too serious. This however was bad enough that he decided to call an ambulance and go to the hospital. They ran some tests and eventually the next day transferred him to another hospital. The signs were initially promising in that he did not seem to be in any immediate danger but we all suspected it may have been the beginning signs of cancer.
On Wednesday I went to see him with Missy. Though she had lived with me for a month now he had yet to meet her. I had on a couple of occasions thought about taking her to see him but something had always came up and it didn't seem like there was a huge rush as we were still getting to know each other in many ways. How was I to know what was going to happen? So he met her for the first time with a breathing machine on his face getting ready to have a ventilator put it. Turns out he was taking a turn for the worse and the beginning signs of cancer now appeared to be stage four cancer.
After the ventilator was put in he was put under heavy sedation. He would not be coherent again. He slipped further and further until it became apparent the ventilator was keeping him alive. By time Sunday came we made the decision to remove the machines and let him pass. It was a tough moment to say the least and Missy was thrust in the middle of this situation with someone she had just met. I felt bad for her as she comforted family members and was there for me in one of my toughest moments. I had wished he could of met her under different circumstances but how was I to know.
Let me say there is nothing glorious about death. Sure some people throughout history die for a noble cause and that is honorable but what history doesn't show you is how the poor bastard looked when he was dead. Even the greatest martyr hardly looks all that great full of bullet holes and disfigured from a violent death. Even someone dying in a modern hospital with the best care available has a macabre look of death dancing all over their face once they die. My father died with his mouth gaping open as he desperately gasped for air with what little life he had before going. A doctor tried closing his mouth but it just fell back open with two attempts. That image is now burned into my fucking head and I hope one day I can forget that I ever seen it.
I didn't cry, I am not sure I can anymore. Sure some tears fell down but even that I tried to keep to a small amount. I remember when I was 11 or 12 I rescued a gerbil from science class. It had been abused by some punk ass student and was in rough shape. With in a week of taking him home we had to take him to the vet and the vet decided he needed to be put under. I remember crying over this gerbil I had for no more than a week. Years can change you though, and you can see and experience things that harden you. That boy who cried over a gerbil needing to be put to sleep was long since dead replaced by someone who death does not carry the same weight anymore. It still hurts but you come to accept it.
Since then I have had a few moments I felt a bit overwhelmed. I was driving to a local grocery store and passed by a Kmart department store and remembered that my father used to always go to Kmart and take me with him. We must of went to Kmart hundreds of times while I was growing up. I never really thought about it till this time and for a brief moment I felt my eyes grow heavy but I steadied myself and went and got my groceries.
Just earlier today I was going through my land line checking my caller ID for any numbers I needed to save to memory. As I flipped back I saw my dad's name and his number from the last time he called my house phone about 2 weeks ago. It hit me right then that I would never again see that name or number on my caller ID. Something so simple but it hit me harder than any punch I ever took. I put my phone down and steadied myself again. Life is hard but I am harder. I still feel emotions but I don't let them control me anymore, I control them.
Writing this entry has been hard onto itself. I feel such a range of feelings. On the one hand I am sad for the lose of my father, something I never thought I would experience at this age. My own father was almost 50 before he lost his father. On the other hand though I am thankful for Missy being in my life during such a difficult time. She has been there for me every step of the way. I am regretful and sad my father didn't get more time to know how much of a wonderful person she is and what a blessing it is to have her. She has made me feel like the happiest and luckiest man alive even during one of the saddest moments of my life. How amazing can a person be to do that? I don't think I can ever do for her what she has done for me.
Could she look anymore like an angel than she does in this pic?
I would like to thank my both my families and my friends for being there and offering kind words. It means a lot to be surrounded by people that care. There are so many people I know who have lost people close to them and know the same feelings I go through. In the end outside of your circle nothing else really matters.