Last year my Dad died very unexpectedly of a heart attack. It was heart breaking, he was my best friend, and we came to find out that not only did Dad die without a pot to piss in, but he had no life insurance. I don’t talk about Dad’s death because I don’t want to think about how there was NO dignity to it at all.
When I think of death I kind of like thinking about it in a transcendental manner. I’d like to think of death as being Thoreau-esqu.
But dad’s death was waiting days for the hospital to determine there was no brain waves in order to pull the plug because our only neurologist was on vacation.
Dad’s death was my brother getting drunk in his hospital room and having to be escorted from the hospital by security guards.
Dad’s death was me fighting with every funeral home in town because he didn’t have life insurance and my credit is HORRIBLE!
Dad’s death was me having to hustle together 3000.00 until they would THINK about having a four hour service for him, and agreeing to cremate him because burying next to my mom was too expensive.
And then our own paper The Messenger Inquirer didn’t get his obituary in the paper in time and practically no one knew he had even passed!
The ONLY good thing that came from my Father’s death was he was an Organ Donor.
The day before they chose to pull the plug The Kentucky Organ Donor Association came to me and told me my Father was an organ donor, and they asked our permission to use his organs.
If you knew my father, you know that my first response was, “Absolutely. ”
My father was a very giving man, so it was only appropriate that even in death, he chose to give.
They were wonderful! They came to us and they said that there was a man that was going to give the gift of sight because of my father. They gave me and my brother’s a plaque for his heroism, and they said they would be in touch.
And they were! They wrote us many times in the next few weeks about their appreciation for what my dad had done, and the success of the surgery. Those next few weeks after dads death weren’t so hard because I had these wonderful letters to remind me of what an amazing man he was.
That Christmas was the hardest Christmas of my adult life. KODA, sent me an ornament to put on my tree to remind me of Dad.
So, the other night I had a dream about Dad. A lot of my dreams are with dad before he had the stroke. But the ones after he had the stroke are of me talking to a man that isn’t really my father. It’s a man that’s struggling and it reminds me of how much we struggled just to have him cremated.
So, I woke up and I took that dream with me to work. And I was having a really bad day anyways. I’m still trying to get used to my new job, and some days I still don’t know what I’m doing. So, I’m thinking about my dad, I’m having a bad day, and I get off work and the only thing I really wanted to do was call and talk to my dad. I get out of the car, get my mail, and make my way up the stairs.
I get inside, take all my clothes off and pick up the mail. I got a reminder from my doctors office reminding me of an appointment I have coming up, bills, bills, and then I pick up a letter that’s really heavy.
It was a letter from KODA with another ornament in it to remind me of Dad. I held it in my hand. It was an angel. It was then I remembered that Dad is everywhere I am. I don’t have to call and talk to him, he sends me ornaments! I started to cry thinking about how he was such an AMAZING human being and how I can only strive to be as giving as him.
And then I just felt better.