halfdime
Silver Member
Father's Day just isn't the same
Four years ago, on June 9, I got a call from a hospice nurse telling me that my dad had agreed to be transported to a hospice facility. He was dying of cancer, and had spent about nine months fading away. This call came shortly after noon, and the nurse told me that the ambulance was scheduled for 2:00. As a stay home dad, I had chosen that day to visit him in the afternoon, after my then 2 and 4 year olds had their nap. When I made that decision, earlier in the day, I had no inkling of what was about to happen. I had spoken to my dad the night before, and I noticed his speech was slurred, something that hadn't happened before. I suspect now that his brain was already starving for oxygen then, but I didn't know enough to be alarmed by it. When I asked my mother about it, she said something about a new medication.
When the nurse's call came, I had just put the kids down for a nap. Hurriedly, I got them up and we drove over to my parents' house, about 20-25 minutes from the initial phone call to their front door. I pulled up and saw my dad sitting up in his hospital bed, in front of a picture window in the living room. As I got closer, I could see his blue eyes looking straight ahead and his mouth wide open. I knew then that he was gone, and my mother, who was holding his hand, whispered the same thought to me. We lowered his bed, and I closed his eyes and mouth, looking at those blue eyes for the last time. I missed his passing by minutes, something I will always regret, and wondered how he could have slipped away so fast. I was glad that his suffering was over, but it has been four years now and I don't really care about Father's Day. Even though I have my own batch now, and they do their best as 6 and 8 year olds to remember me, I can't forget that my own dad left too soon.
About a month and a half after Dad died, I got my first (and so far only) detector with funds I had gathered selling something he gave me: our aging collection of Gravely tractors. Thanks to EBay, they and their parts are all over the Northeast, and even the Carolinas, and I've been able to enjoy this great hobby for almost four years now. A month or two after I got the detector, I was demonstrating it to my uncle. He wondered if my dad would have enjoyed doing something like that, and I don't really know. I'll always wish I had the chance to find out.
Spread out in Hawaii, Seattle and Colorado, my brothers miss their father too, and they probably feel the same way about Father's Day. Because of my close proximity, I miss him in a different way.
Four years ago, on June 9, I got a call from a hospice nurse telling me that my dad had agreed to be transported to a hospice facility. He was dying of cancer, and had spent about nine months fading away. This call came shortly after noon, and the nurse told me that the ambulance was scheduled for 2:00. As a stay home dad, I had chosen that day to visit him in the afternoon, after my then 2 and 4 year olds had their nap. When I made that decision, earlier in the day, I had no inkling of what was about to happen. I had spoken to my dad the night before, and I noticed his speech was slurred, something that hadn't happened before. I suspect now that his brain was already starving for oxygen then, but I didn't know enough to be alarmed by it. When I asked my mother about it, she said something about a new medication.
When the nurse's call came, I had just put the kids down for a nap. Hurriedly, I got them up and we drove over to my parents' house, about 20-25 minutes from the initial phone call to their front door. I pulled up and saw my dad sitting up in his hospital bed, in front of a picture window in the living room. As I got closer, I could see his blue eyes looking straight ahead and his mouth wide open. I knew then that he was gone, and my mother, who was holding his hand, whispered the same thought to me. We lowered his bed, and I closed his eyes and mouth, looking at those blue eyes for the last time. I missed his passing by minutes, something I will always regret, and wondered how he could have slipped away so fast. I was glad that his suffering was over, but it has been four years now and I don't really care about Father's Day. Even though I have my own batch now, and they do their best as 6 and 8 year olds to remember me, I can't forget that my own dad left too soon.
About a month and a half after Dad died, I got my first (and so far only) detector with funds I had gathered selling something he gave me: our aging collection of Gravely tractors. Thanks to EBay, they and their parts are all over the Northeast, and even the Carolinas, and I've been able to enjoy this great hobby for almost four years now. A month or two after I got the detector, I was demonstrating it to my uncle. He wondered if my dad would have enjoyed doing something like that, and I don't really know. I'll always wish I had the chance to find out.
Spread out in Hawaii, Seattle and Colorado, my brothers miss their father too, and they probably feel the same way about Father's Day. Because of my close proximity, I miss him in a different way.
