My Father

Soon I heard voices in the hall. Everyone was coming back. I woke up. A nurse entered the room and said it was time to move to recovery, and she began making the necessary preparations. I now had feeling in my legs, and was surprised that the pain really wasn't bad. I thought it would be terrible once the epidural was gone, but it really wasn't bad at all. It was slightly uncomfortable. I count myself very lucky. I didn't need any stitches at all. Thank you prenatal yoga!
Now this goes a little off subject for a moment, but I feel like I need to mention this part before I can continue with the story. A few years ago, my father was very sick. He was driving from my parents home to the doctor. The dive was about thirty minutes. He was in terrible pain. So much, in fact, that he passed out while driving, and lost control of his truck. It flipped end over end about three times, and landed on the other side of the highway.
My mother had been visiting my brother and me. We lived about four hours from our hometown. She was headed home that same day. She was planning to meet my father at the doctors office. She left my home at about 7:00 A.M. I got ready for the day and headed to my 8:30 A.M. history class. When I returned to my house at about 10:30 A.M. the phone was ringing. I had a terrible sinking feeling in my stomach, like I had just swallowed a bolder. A voice inside me told me to prepare myself. This was bad news. I thought it would be my mother telling me that the doctor had said that my dad only had a few months to live. I knew his health was rapidly declining, and he didn't have much longer on this earth, but you always think that maybe it wont be that serious, or maybe the doctors can help to prolong his life. Anyway, I took a deep breath, and answered the phone, prepared for the inevitable bad news. My uncle was on the other end of the phone. Now I was really panicking. He very calmly said that my father had been in a car accident. He said he was fine. He had a few broken ribs, but he was going to be fine. He said that the only problem was that they couldn't find my mother. I told him that she was waiting for my dad at the doctors office thirty minutes from home. I gave him her cell phone number, and hung up the phone. I started trying to call my mother, but I only had a few minutes before I needed to go to my chemistry lab, and violin lesson. I think I was in shock, because it just seemed like life was the only thing stopping me from sitting down and crying, or jumping in my car, and speeding home as fast as I could. Instead I just went on with my day as I normally would. I put a load of laundry in the washer, and tried to eat. I was preparing to leave when one of my cousins called, and told me about the wreck, and said that everyone was trying to get my mother on the phone but no one could. Then she said that another one of my cousins just got her on the phone. I said that I would be in class for a few hours. Then I would see if my brother was still in town, and if he didn't have to work I would see if he wanted to ride home with me. I called my husband to let him know what was going on, and I was out the door.
I was admittedly a little distracted in class, and my violin lesson went by very slowly, as I very mechanically played my scales exercises. I was working on Vivaldi's Four Seasons Spring, but it sounded more like a deep long dragging winter covered in molasses.
As I was leaving my lesson I saw my brother. He was just finishing his classes for the day. I walked quickly to him and called his name. He stopped, and was shocked by the look on my face. He asked me what was wrong. I was thinking that he was handling things much better than I was. He then asked me if our mom had left my house yet. I thought this was a very strange question, but I answered anyway. He said that he was going to call her to see how my dad's appointment went as soon as he got home. It finally sunk in. He didn't know about the accident yet. Of course he didn't. He had been in class all day. I didn't want to tell him, but I knew I had to. It took everything I had to get through the story without breaking down. He began to get upset. He wondered why I hadn't called him as soon as I heard. I explained and asked if he would be interested in driving home with me. I had planned to go out and then come back the next day. He said that he would drive, and he would meet me at my apartment in 30 minutes. I rushed home, and packed a bag, then I emailed my professors to let them know that if I wasn't in class there was a reason.
As we were driving home we talked about a lot of different things, but it always came back to our dad. My Brother kept asking me if our dad was going to be alright. Now this may seem completely awful, I know he was just looking for reassurance, but I felt I had to tell the truth. I said that everyone I had talked to seemed optimistic, but I was of a different opinion.
This may seem silly, but I had a premonition as I was looking through my Frank Sinatra song book a few weeks prior to the accident. I was sitting on my cedar chest in my bedroom, and I was doing some sight singing. I came to a song that I hadn't heard before, which is strange because it is one of his most famous songs. I decided to read through it. As I was singing it tears began to stream down my face, and I had the impression that I would be singing this song in the not too distant future. I knew I would be singing it for my father's funeral.
I didn't tell my brother this. I told him that every one said he was fine, with just a few broken ribs. Then I told him that due to our father's poor health before the accident. I was preparing myself for the worst. He saw this as pessimistic. I laughed, as I thought of one of our father's more memorable quotes, and said,"I'm not an optimist, or a pessimist. I'm a realist." We both laughed, and then we cried.
We arrived at the hospital before we were ready. I hated walking in, and was very glad that I wasn't alone. We found my father's room, and reunited with our mother, who had left my home earlier that day, in what seemed like a much simpler time. My father looked surprisingly good considering the day he had lived through. He was awake, and in a good mood. My brother walked over and gave him a gentle hug, as he began to cry. Next I walked over. My father said,"It must be my lucky day! I get a hug from my favorite cold hearted girl!" I laughed, and teased,"Dad, you know I'm hard hearted, not cold hearted, there is a big difference!" My heart was about to be permanently softened. This is one of the last things I would ever say to my father.
Soon my father needed his rest, and my brother and I hadn't eaten in a very long time. My mother walked us out to the car, and as we were walking she said that when they did the ex rays, they found a mass in my father's lungs. They didn't know what it was, but it didn't look good. They couldn't do any tests until he was stronger.
My brother and I went to visit our father a few more times before we had to go back, and I was always surprised by the number of people there to see him. We went home and tried our best to resume our lives. Things seem blurry, like I was sleep walking through my life.
One day my mother called with more bad news, my father had developed pneumonia in both lungs, and he was in ICU. He didn't like all the machines he was hooked up to and he kept ripping off the different tube. a few hours passed, maybe a day, and my mother called to say that he was in a coma. I don't remember for sure, but it seems like the coma was induced to treat him. I might be way off on that.
My brother and I decided that he better get home. There were problems. I had two exams the next day, and a group project was going to be started. I had to speak with my professors, and schedule make up exams for a later date. I was excused from the group project.
This time my husband was with us. We couldn't all go into the room at the same time, so we each took a few moments to talk to him. It seamed futile to me, but I told him I loved him anyway. Then I just stood there silently holding his hand for a few minutes while I cried. Then it was time to go.
We again returned to our lives, work, school, but not for long. There was hope when he was released from ICU. This hope was short lived. On an evening in early October it was either the fifth, or the sixth our mother called, and told us that my father was preparing to exit this mortal life, and we needed to get home right away. It was dark when we left, and it seemed like the journey would never come to and end. The traffic was terrible, and progress was slow. When we were about thirty minutes from the hospital my brother got a flat tire on his new car, and he and my husband couldn't figure out how to change it. While they were looking the clock was ticking, and it was getting close to midnight. My brothers phone began to ring, and I couldn't find it, but I knew what was happening. We got moving again, and as we were entering a small town a few minutes from the hospital phones began to ring again. Our father passed away a few minutes before or after midnight. My brother blamed himself for not making it in time to say goodbye, but I thought we had been granted mercy. We didn't have to witness the death of our father.
When we finally arrived at the hospital my fathers room was filled with friends and family. The room was dark, and we spent a few minutes saying goodbye. Then we left the hospital, and headed right back the way we had come. My make up exam was scheduled for seven in the morning, and we had to get clothes. We would be staying with my mother for almost a week.
A few days later we had the funeral. I spoke a few words about my father and sang the song that I had been prompted to sing, "My Way". I wasn't the only one who thought that the song was so much like my father. One of his closest friends told my mother that he knew the perfect song for my father. He was surprised when my mother told him that was the very song I had chosen to sing.
My father was amazing. He loved to talk, and debate(argue). It was always difficult to say goodbye to him, because he always had one more story to tell, or one more argument to make. He was kind with a rough exterior. He loved children, and animals. He never told me things like,"Wash that makeup off!" or, "You aren't leaving the house dressed in that!" He would always tell me,"If you've got it, flaunt it,and Babes you've got it!" Then he would laugh and hug me. Wow, I miss him!
While I was pregnant I missed him a lot. I always wished that he would be able to meet my child. I thought about him a lot, and on my harder days, I would hear his voice in my head telling me I still had,"It" Then I would look in the mirror and laugh myself silly.
As they were preparing to move us to recovery my husband, and my in-laws returned from dinner. My father-in-law sat down by my bed, and said, Kaysie, I think I know why it took Bebe so long to get here. She was sitting up in heaven talking to her grandpa, and he had lots of last minute advice about how to handle her mama. Do you know what I think he said right before he let her go? He said,'Always remember, If you've got it, flaunt it, and Babes, you've got it!" I laughed and felt hot copper tears welling in my eyes, because I knew he was right.