One Year Down, Lots to Go

I can't believe it'll be the one year anniversary of my Dad's passing on the 25th. I truly feel like I've had a harder time coping with his death this year than last year. I think the shock has completely worn off. Reality has finally hit and it sucks.


I am really dreading Monday, needless to say. However, I don't know why I am - it's not like that day is going to hurt worse than any other day. I think about him every day, wish I could talk to him every day, miss him every day. Maybe it's just because I'll be reliving the events of June 25, 2011 in my head. Remembering it hour by hour. I'll be at work, just like I was last year. Remembering getting texts from Christi (my sister) that she was going with Dad to the cardiologist and then that he had to get some lab work done. Then around 4:00 finding out that he had to go to the hospital to get a blood transfusion, and that he'd probably have to stay overnight. I remember being at work and crying because I felt so helpless. Luckily I was able to leave early. Shortly before I left work I got a text from my Dad - the last one I ever got - saying, "Keep the faith." I was able to leave and get there when he and my sister were in the ER. I noticed he didn't have any stuff with him and I remember asking him why and he said something like, "I don't need anything because I'm planning on going home." Yes, he did indeed go home. And I really think he had some inkling of what that night was to hold. I have an entry about him possibly knowing his fate. You can read that here. I got to be with him that night for the last few hours of his life and as bad as it was, I'm so thankful I was there. You can read the back story of what happened that night here.


Maybe I'm dreading Monday because it's already been a year, it's gone so fast. I feel like so much has happened this past year and the kids have grown so much and I'm angry and sad that my Dad isn't here on earth to enjoy it with us - or maybe because it's ONLY been a year. Only one year has passed and I still think about him all the time. It feels like forever since I've talked to him. One year down, lots more to go.

At my Ball State graduation in 2001

Nursing school graduation 2009

Love this one of my Mom & Dad in the 70's - Dad was pimp tight

My Dad loved his grandkids - here with Addison in 2007

Loved boating

I think another reason I'm having a hard time is because secretly I've kind of always felt like things that happened that night were my fault. As a nurse, I know certain procedures can cause the heart a lot of stress. My dad did not want to be intubated, but ended up being intubated and I really think that sent him over the edge. Not just physiologically, but emotionally. Christi and I were not in the room when this all happened immediately upon arrival to the ICU. For some reason, we were told to meet my dad up there from the ER. Looking back, I don't know why the hell I didn't demand that we travel with him. That's how it works at Riley - family travels with the patient. I'm still pissed at myself for that whole situation. I think had I gone with him, he would have never been intubated - even if that meant he would have passed sooner. I know as a nurse you have to be the patient's advocate, but even more importantly, as a family member you are the biggest advocate the patient has. I was my Dad's biggest advocate but I didn't do my job. I just worry about what he was thinking or if he was scared or what. I realize they wouldn't have intubated him without his approval, but I just wonder what happened en route to the ICU and upon his arrival there that made this happen because he was pretty coherent when we left the ER, then once we saw him in the ICU it was like he had done a 180 degree turn for the worse. I have major feelings of guilt over this. I let him down and I let myself down. I know my Dad has forgiven me. I just hope one day I can forgive myself.

Getting ready to walk me down the aisle - 2002

I spoke to my Dad's cardiologist at Dad's funeral and he stated that my Dad would have only lived about 2 more weeks, if that. The cardiologist was the one who ordered the blood tests and who ordered him to go to the hospital to get a blood transfusion. He had done an ECHO on my Dad at the office that day and said that the aortic stenosis had gotten so bad that his ejection fraction was only about 15%. Not good. I realize that my Dad would have passed around this time last year regardless, but I still feel somewhat guilty for letting things go down the way they did. I hate that he had to go through what he did that night. But my mom always reminds me that she is so thankful that my sister and I were there. We were with him in his last hours. He could have been at home alone or it could have happened during his drive home from South Carolina. What then? That would have been just as devastating, if not more so because he would have been alone. No one should die alone. At least we were there to hold his hands, tell him all the things we wanted to say, and pray over him while he took his last breaths. I'm thankful for that.


Another story that I've never told, but one that I will treasure from that night is when Ike came to the hospital. My Dad had mentioned to Christi and I not to have any one come up to the hospital to see him. He was kind of a private person about his health issues, and even when I took him to get a stent in 2010, he made me go home against my will. He just never really wanted visitors in the hospital. He was tough and didn't want people to see him in that weak, vulnerable state I guess. Anyway, I had called Ike throughout the night but kept telling him I thought things were going to be okay, but once we got up to the ICU and I saw the way my Dad looked, I just knew. So I called Ike and told him he needed to come to the hospital to say good-bye. Ike and my Dad were pretty close. He was kind of like the son my Dad never had. Ike had to wait for his mom to get to our house to stay with the kids, as he came up to the hospital after the kids were asleep and of course we didn't want to wake them and bring them to the hospital. So Ike finally got there and I met him in the hall to bring him to the room. At this point, my dad was still intubated, but still somewhat with it. I didn't tell my Dad Ike was coming, but once we got back to my Dad's room, I went in, grabbed my Dad's hand and told him Ike was there. My Dad looked at me and shook his head no and I thought he was pissed that I brought a visitor, even though it was just his son-in-law. But then he immediately let go of my hand and reached out for Ike's. They just looked at each other, both with tears in their eyes and Ike said a few things that I can't remember, but I'm so glad he got to say good-bye too. Just typing this makes me cry. I know Ike can't even talk about it without tearing up. I know that moment means so much to him, as it does to me.

In the Touchdown Club @ a Colts game getting ready to watch me cheer

Ike and my Dad - buddies

And as hard as it's been for me, I think about my Dad in heaven and that's what gives me peace and comfort. I can't even imagine how perfect it must be. How my Dad is in perfect condition and that I'll see him again. So though it's the year anniversary of his death, it's also his first birthday in heaven. Very comforting. I'll try to remember it's his heavenly birthday on Monday when I'm reliving the events of last year. Though it's sad for us here on earth, I'm sure he is happy and watching over us. I need to remember he is happy. Yes, my Dad is happy now. 

Charleson, SC 2011 - about one month before he passed

So as I said, it's already been a year but it's only been a year. I have lots more to go. But I'll "Keep the Faith." 

Thanks Daddy. I miss you and love you so.