My dad went into the hospital for a routine surgery. It was Father's Day. Per usual, I got him a card and went to see him. Cards were our way of communicating. He was the perfect card-picker for me. We had a good heart-to-heart convo and I told him to let go, that we would take care of him. Little did I know that I wouldn't talk to my father again.
Monday, June 16, 2008
I missed seeing him that day. Promised I'd visit him but I didn't make it to the hospital. I didn't call either; got up and went to work. I was content knowing I'd see him on Tuesday.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I called in to work that day. My Uncle Gene had called and told me Pops was sick. I didn't realize the severity of the situation until I got to the hospital. He wasn't the dad I had just two days earlier. He had jaundice, MRSA and was stuck in a time where I wasn't in his life. My sister, whom is now 24, was his main focus. He asked where Kimmy was. I won't lie, my heart broke. We all gathered, my the youngest four children (myself, Matt, Kim, and John), at the hospital during the day. I went home to eat and rest as visiting hours were over before I got the call.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
In the very early hours of Wednesday, probably around midnight or shortly later, Stormy the nurse called and informed me that my dad had passed. I called my one and only sister and informed her. I then called my best friend Kesha and she was an angel and met me and my mom at the hospital where we were going to collect his stuff. It was not easy. Seeing my dad there, looking like he was asleep, completely unresponsive to my very desperate plea to wake up. I went into deflect mode. From that point on, I focused on everything else besides his absence. I helped my two uncles plan the funeral. I went with Jeff, Kim and John to get flowers. I truly don't recall if the viewing was Wednesday or Thursday. But I went. And it was not a sad or defining moment. I was very removed, even joked around with my sister and Kesha a little. I have maybe three friends who met my dad. Kesha, Emily Schat Zoll and Chad. Chad may have been the only one to meet him while he was living.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
I learned how to tie a tie this day. Kesha taught me for the funeral. We had picked out a nice shirt and tie, my uncle and I, for Pops to wear. He wasn't a tie wearing guy. Give him a red or blue t-shirt and a grill, something to fix, elephants or a fishing pole and he was happy. So, since he was dressed in something that wasn't him, I decided to dress in a tie. Which was not me at the time. I told my younger brother Matt "I love you" for the first time in my 22 years of living. I saw him, our dad - my dad - and I broke down. But, even though I don't share the same last name, the same blood still courses through my veins. Pulled myself together, got through the service and took solace with my family and friends the rest of the day.
If I could have a talk with my dad one more time, I'd thank him for trying. For being honest with me and for letting me see him cry. I'd tell him that I love him, always did, always will. We would talk a little about sports, I'd boast about my grilling skills, I'd tell him about my relationships and how much happier I am now that I have made the social changes I have to be Colby. I'd then tell him my name and why I picked it. Tell him that of I ever adopt, I'm going to do all I can to name my son Thomas Lynn, after him. I'd hug him, even ask for a kiss on the cheek so I can feel that rough yet comforting beard on my cheek. We would talk about fishing and elephants and I'd show him pictures of the last five years. I'd ask him what laundry detergent he used so I can remember what he smells like. And when he has to go, I'd tell him I love and I'll miss him. I'd record the whole conversation so I'd never forget his voice again. I'd thank my dad for being my dad and for loving me even when I broke his heart.
It's not the same without you, but I still look at cards and think of you. Happy Father's Day. I love you, Pops.
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