Bear with me guys.. I'm writing this more for myself than for anyone else so if you want to read sad stuff, keep on keeping on.
Three yrs have past since I had to watch the first man I ever loved take his last breath. I didn't hear about it, I didn't get a call in the middle of the night.. no I watched it happen. I had to leave the room as they took the tubes out of him that have been his life support for over a week.. no that was just too much to see. I watched the monitor beep beep beep and then flat line. I watched him struggle for those last few breaths as his spirit and body disconnected. I saw his body cover in goosebumps and I saw him smile as he heard the voices of his grandkids on a tape as his father and other family members came to take him from his pain and suffering.
I have relived these memories over and over these last 3 yrs. I can still see myself walking in the room in the early afternoon of Feb 11th, 2006 to see my father lying in a coma for the first time since Christmas when things seemed to be looking up. I didn't want to go in. Thankfully Jon was with me because I was scared. Everyone kept saying it was okay-- and they were telling him that I was there. Can I just tell you... there is nothing like seeing the rock of your life lying in a hospital bed helpless and practically lifeless. There is nothing like that. It took everything I had to not run away. But I went in. And I held his hand. And I cried. I wanted to scream... to make him wake up. To tell us this was all a joke and he was just sleeping. Or to at least be able to tell us what was going on- and what we should do. Or to just say goodbye.
I remember the meeting we had. The joking and the laughing because we were all so tense and we knew what was coming next. And then the crying. We had to make a choice.. a choice NO ONE should ever have to make. I remember being able to hear all my siblings and in-laws pay tribute to the man and how we felt about what was about to happen. We were all there.. except little Chad who was on his mission in Japan. It's amazing how something like this brings people together... me from California, Gary also from California, Peggy from New Mexico and Jeremy from Tennessee. All in a days notise.
I remember going back up to his hospital room. All a zillion of us. Actually let's see.. there was 18 of us piled around his hospital bed. Anyone who was there can correct me if I'm wrong but I think this was when had a family prayer. We decided to let dad make the choice if he was ready to go or not. I remember a arse of a dr came in and said that he was terminal (yeah duh) and they could do a surgery but it would be torture. And right then my dad started chocking. He made the choice. And later that night he was given a blessing of release.
And then without more and more details, that leads us to where I began. That was the worst day of my life. And I hope it's stays the worst day because I couldn't bear to have to go through that again with anyone. I shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have had to do this. But we did.. 3yrs ago today. And in a weird way, I'm glad I remember. Because for me to forget means to forget who he was and why it hurts so much to loose him. The pain definately has eased up and it's easier to remember the good times as well and not just the memories of that awful day. But it's still there and will always be because with my own eyes, I saw the hands of God that day take one of his chosen back with him. And you know- while I know I'll see him again, it still sucks!