Losing Dad

My Dad was one of my best friends. It feels funny writing that, but looking back I can say it with confidence. 

When I was little, Tuesday nights were our hang out nights. Dad would recite Nursery Rhymes repeatedly (God used him to prep me to become a teacher one day!), and he’d play hide the keys with me. We’d count the airplanes flying across the sky and look up at the stars.

When Dad would make his homemade BBQ chicken halves (better than Poultry Days! There…I said it!), he would always have me fetch him his Blatz beer. But he’d only drink two. Blatz…really Dad?

My Dad was the kind of guy that would accidentally drop a hot dog on the ground, then throw it on the grill to burn the germs off. He would make squirrel stew in a cast iron pot on our wood stove. No one would eat it but him…he wasn’t known for removing every hair from the meat.  Oh, Dad…

Dad was not in great health from his mid fifties on. He had 2 open heart surgeries, a heart attack, colon cancer (caught early), heart failure, and ultimately kidney failure. He never gave up on life, even when he wanted to.

Dad was one of the most selfless men I’ve ever met. He gave his all when he decided to go on dialysis because he didn’t want to leave his wife of almost 62 years behind.

On November 8, 2018, my brother called me concerned about Dad. When I went over to my parent’s, we watched Dad go in and out of consciousness. He would stare into space and pray that Jesus would let him crossover if it was His will. Later, he was up and moving around, so I felt much better, told Dad goodbye , and went home. Thank God my brother stayed with him and Mom that night. 

A little after 5:00 AM, I got the phone call. “Dad’s gone, Susie.” I don’t care how old you are, nothing prepares you for those words.

I was a mess. I laid on his chest and bawled before the coroner took him. At his visitation the morning of his funeral, I sat and stared at him. I would not leave the funeral home. My husband had to physically take my hand and lead me out, and I wasn’t nice about it. 

As days and weeks went on, I fell on some serious dark days. I listened to dark metal music nonstop. I was spiraling nowhere fast. So one day, I stopped grieving, put it in a box, and moved on. I thought I was fine but I wasn’t.

3 years and eight months have passed. I am good now. If you want to know why, read the following: https://wwwsmc.blog/2022/07/03/firefly-dance/

Dad will always be with me, and I look forward to seeing him again One Sweet Day!