Losing a parent is....

I remember thinking to myself “Well, it is inevitable”. I really thought I was ready to part with the last person who remembered me at 3 years old. Funny how he would tell me he wanted to die and I would tell him he would do no such thing. I would sit at the edge of the bed in one of the many homes he was in and out of since April. I would sit in court when they took his rights to make decisions away, because he made bad choices. The last 8 months have been strange. I would call the police when he would come undone and need the hospital, but refuse to go. They would treat him badly, but we had no choice. Many people said I looked like him. I never knew that until I saw older pictures that were put up.

Four weeks ago he died 6 times in front of us. They loaded him up on pressers and kept getting a pulse each time he went under. He went under so many times and for so long, they told us to let him go…he would be braindead if he survived and would not last the night. We disagreed. The next day he came out of it and knew us. The following days, he was breathing on his own, and responding to commands. I was away on business in Chicago. I remember thinking I would bring him a teddy bear. I didn’t though. Little Carra Rose at 5 years old asked us every single night to take her to pray at the church for Grandad. She gave him a little angel when he was in the ICU. He was not with it enough to know. We hung it up. Later he was told about it, he looked and smiled. The day I brought it home she cried. Her little face looking into mine, my little girl who looks just like me said as she cried “I guess my prayers were just not good enough”. I looked at the Crucifix in the Church as she told me that. Thank goodness my wife explained it away to her. I could not.

I remember it clearly. We all stood around. The priest was there and this time there was no come back. As we stood, the priest told us he needed a decision. The Doctor told us he had stage 4 renal failure and his heart coudnt beat enough to push blood. We agreed and it was the day he died and I came to life and realized that I had a Father and a Mother when I was born. I am certain they must have been happy the day I was born. He watched me take my first breath, and I watched him take his last. As we left Mercy I roamed the streets of Pittsburgh for hours with Terra. This place, that place…he was gone…there was no comeback this time. I did a eulogy. It was decent.

At 45, I don’t believe I have accepted how final death really is. I am utterly shocked by my inability to process the facts at hand. At times I peer through the childlike veil I seem to exist behind where death is concerned, and for a moment I get it. Later I am right back to thinking that if we do this or that, Dad will be okay then.

I saw an extremely elderly lady walking in a store yesterday. At one time she was full of wonder and life like our little girls. I suppose the fate of all of us is certain to a point. I truly think it’s a scam. We are born. We learn and live. We fall in love. We create. We love more than we ever thought possible. We die, and while alive, lose people we love. What a scam! What a piss poor planned….well…something.

I suppose this is where it all came from. I suppose this is where the items to ease our minds got their first bullet point in a stone tablet of sorts some thousands of years ago. It never resonated with me. Still doesn’t. One time I was put under for an operation. I don’t remember anything….I think that’s the size of it.

[Agora1]

abomino, I think nothing brings our own mortality up to the top of our thoughts, then losing a parent. And when I lost both, I felt myself being moved up to the head of the line. A rude awakening that being that protected child doesn't last forever, so we truly become the adult, responsible for ourselves, unable to turn to mom or dad. I understand what you are thinking.