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Tomorrow is February 4, 2015. A special day in the calendar for me. For my mom. For my siblings. For my children.
Happy Birthday Viejo… mi gordisimo… Happy Birthday Papis.
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I find myself at six and sevens today. I’ve had many things on my mind. None of which, in hindsight, are that important. I did something that I do when when I don’t want to face a hard day. A reality. A heartbreaking day.
I did it too on December 23rd the second anniversary of my father’s passing. I acknowledge it but ultimately I tried to ignore it. That day, in December, I was driving my mom to Toronto to see my brother. She was going to dinner at my other brother’s house that evening. It was good, her mind was occupied. Focused on something else, someone else. We did what was best at that moment. We held it together, so she and I would not breakdown in front of my kids. We tired in vain but we stuck to the plan…I stuck to the plan and I ignored it.
I found something else to do.
That day, I drove to Toronto, I went shopping and after a long day, I drove home.
Today, avoidance tactics were focused on taking my son to get his braces put on, I wrote a blog post, I planned my menu for the week, I re-arranged my junk drawer. I … I… I did anything. Anything but think about what day it will be tomorrow.
You see, tomorrow would have been my father’s 87th Birthday. It would have been a glorious day in an otherwise cold winter. We would have had lunch or dinner with him, we would have had cake. He loved cake. He would have told me how happy he was in his own particular way.
I go back to that last day. That last day I had with him. When you have days like those, you rarely forget them. You run through the details of what you said, what you did, what you thought the day before that other fateful day.
You remember what you thought when you got the call. I was the first to get the call. I was the medical/health power of attorney for my father so I was the first one on the ‘contact in case of emergency’ list. They asked if they should call my mother or whether I should be the one to let her know. I chose the latter. I made the call.
Being a POA is no small responsibility. It means that when someone you love has a living will, you have to follow through with their wishes (even though those wishes may mean a shortening of their life). There are guidelines and rules, requests and refusals. There are words that are written and spoken and spoken again. They are wishes that are respected.
So when the hospital called at 3 am on Christmas Eve eve, I was somewhat prepared yet still surprised that my father had peacefully passed away.
I had left him the day before on the amends. I had left him with my sister. She had then left him to my brother then later on that night, he left him in the care of my oldest brother. We all had our turn with him that day. He was in the hospital because he had suffered a heart attack brought on by influenza. He was in a seniors home and even though he was carefully tended to by my mother and the wonderful staff at the home, he probably should have been admitted to hospital much sooner than he was. As a man suffering with diabetes, heart disease and in his mid 80’s, the possibility of something going sideways quickly was very real. In the end, that is what happened. He was home, then he was in the hospital then he was gone all in five short days.
A person always has regrets about the time spent with their loved one just prior to an unexpected death.
My regret was I did not sit by his bedside the entire day I was with him. As the day progressed, he had been feeling better after a few stressful days. My mom and I were at the hospital but I had brought my computer with me and was doing some work in the quiet family lounge. I checked in on him. I was happy to see that he was finally off morphine that so affected his demeanour. I was in and out. I was around but effectively, I was doing some work on my computer. Those words come to haunt me every once in a while. I ask myself: What was so important, what needed to be written? What had to be posted that was so important? Why didn’t I sit by his side the whole day long? I just don’t know.
If I had known… I just didn’t know… Only God knew.
I speak to my father from time to time. I laugh when I know he would have laughed too.
More often than not, I rejoice in the thought that he is in another place. He is no longer blind. He is not in a wheelchair. He can eat whatever he wants and diabetes does not touch him there. He is smoking and drinking and laughing with his best friend and brother-in-law. He is happy. I know that.
But it won’t make today or tomorrow or next December 23rd any easier for me. Or my mom. Or my siblings.
To you, my viejo, I wish you a very happy birthday.
I love you the most Gordisimo.
I miss you Papis.
Love,
Marquinita
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Margarita Ibbott is a travel and lifestyle blogger. She blogs about travel in Canada, the United States and Europe giving practical advice through restaurant, hotel and attraction reviews. She writes for DownshiftingPRO.com and other online media outlets.
What a beautiful post! Your father knows you love him and he smiles down on you daily. You can’t let ‘What ifs” cloud your mind. You did your best and loved your dad. Remember the good times, not the what ifs.
Milestone dates are hard, we are coming up to 1 month since my FIL passed away – it seems like so long ago and nothing at all, all at the same time.
I like to look at pictures on those days, and even share stores with the kids about the people I am missing
He sounds like a great guy. It’s hard when love ones are gone. Every now and then little things that my grandpa use to say will pop in my head.
What a nice post remembering him. The anniversary of the day my MIL passed away just went by and her birthday is coming up. These are both very hard days for my husband especially. I think honouring and remembering the loved one is the best way to spend the day.
I’m so sorry Margarita! Losing a parent is hard no matter when and how it happens. I think it’s best not to think about what ifs.. and just focus on the good. Yes, you didn’t spend the entire day with him, but you were with him part of the day… and I’m certain you thought of him while you weren’t there.
My grandfather passed away two years ago. I went to the hospital with my parents, we all thought he was going to get out of the hospital soon. However when it was time to leave, my Dad just waved and said See you Later Dad. I had this feeling that he should have touched his Dad.. should have said something else.. Like I love you,… but they aren’t an affectionate bunch… after-all.. we all thought he was going to come home soon. My Dad returned to the hospital a week later to see his Dad… my grandfather was sleeping, so he didn’t wake him up. He just left…. my grandfather passed away that very same day. I’m sure my Dad thinks about the last time he spoke to him… and the last time he saw him. Should he have hugged him, should he have woken him up, …..