Two years ago

Two years ago today, I sat by my dad's hospital bedside and said good-bye to him for the very last time.

It's funny to me how some of the details of that day are so crystal clear in my memory while other details have disappeared completely. Like I don't remember the phone call telling me that I needed to get to the hospital immediately. Did my mom call me or was it my sister?

I remember riding to the hospital with my sister, daughter and nieces. But I have no idea if I met my sister at her house or if she picked me up at mine. I have no idea what we talked about during that long ride but I remember thinking that if we just acted like everything was normal that maybe things would turn out okay. We'd come close to losing my dad several times before and this would be just another one of those times. I remember telling myself that everything was going to be just fine but I also remember the voice lurking in the back of my head telling me that it might not be, not this time.

I remember that when we finally arrived at the hospital we all piled out of the car and rushed toward the door. And I'll never ever forget the sight of my brother walking toward us from the other side of the parking lot. The look on his face. The way he was shaking his head. The feeling of the wind suddenly being knocked out of me. I don't remember if it was my voice or my sister's that in a shocked tone said, "He's gone."

And then I remember the intense feeling of relief flooding my body as my brother explained that my mom had kept my dad on life-support so we would all have the chance to say good-bye. I can't imagine that I would have processed the idea of my father on life-support as good news had I not faced the other possibility first. But suddenly I was grateful for the opportunity to hold his hand one last time and to say good-bye.

I remember spending hours and hours by his bedside. Much of it is a blur but I remember talking, laughing, crying and telling lots of funny stories. I remember hoping with everything in me that he could hear us. Hoping he knew we were all there…his wife and kids and grandkids all around him. I remember Amanda dancing around like a goofball, which my dad would have appreciated. And the laughter… I know he would have been happy that there was a lot of laughter in the midst of all the tears. He wouldn't have wanted us to sink into sadness. I remember the moment my mom mentioned that she'd forgotten to turn his hearing aid back on. It had been off all day. I remember being upset at first but then I imagined my dad laughing and thinking isn't it enough that you expect me to hear you through a comatose state but I have to do it without my hearing aid too?

I remember trying to memorize the way my hand felt in his knowing that I'd never get to hold his hand again. I remember staring at the calendar on the wall and thinking that this would be one of those days that would be etched in my memory for all time. February 11 would forever be marked with sadness for me. I remember stealing that page from the calendar as I walked out the door for the last time. I remember the way my sister insisted on staying with him until the very last minute, not wanting him to be alone for even a minute. Until they came to take him away.

One year ago today I found out I was pregnant with Alyssa.

It was completely unexpected. I was writing a letter to my dad… my way of processing my emotions, I guess… when I suddenly had the sensation in my belly like a baby was kicking. Extremely weird since I wasn't pregnant. Must be indigestion...Those two sensations never felt the same to me but still I was asking myself... Geez, what could I possibly have eaten for breakfast that is now kicking me? I felt the same kicking sensation over and over again and kept thinking that even if there was the remotest chance that I could be pregnant, you can't feel kicking until the 16th week at the earliest. Yes, I'm scatterbrained... but even if I WAS pregnant I KNEW I wasn't THAT pregnant. But the kicking sensation went on for hours... what did I eat anyway?

Finally I said out loud, "Okay Dad… Real funny. I know I'm not pregnant but I'll take a pregnancy test." As soon as Scott got home, I went to the store and bought the cheapest pregnancy test they had KNOWING it would be negative and I would be throwing it away three minutes later. But NOOOOOOOO... there were those two little pink lines. I had to take a second test because I didn't quite believe the first one. It was positive too. I was pregnant.

So I decided then that from now on February 11 would have to be about celebrating life…my dad's life and my new baby's… So instead of being sad, I'll spend today being grateful that I had such a wonderful father and maybe wonder a bit which traits his youngest grandchild might inherit from him.

For Christmas 2003, I made my dad a scrapbook called "50 Reasons I Love You." I'm including the journaling below to give you an idea of what kind of father he was and why I miss him so much.

50 Reasons I Love You

1. You taught me by example to make sure the people you love know that you love them.
2. You taught me that I could choose to be happy and that it’s more important to be happy than to be right.
3. You are incredibly patient. How did you raise four kids without losing your mind?
4. You’re funny. You tell great jokes and stories, sometimes over and over and over. (Is that so we won’t forget them?)
5. You always manage to stay unbelievably calm, even under stressful circumstances.
6. You always made me feel safe. I never felt like anything bad could happen to me while I was in you care.
7. You’re one of my favorite people to dance with.
8. You’re always singing. I’ve always felt comforted by that, as if when you are singing everything is right with the world. (I’m not saying that your singing is good, necessarily, but it is comforting!)
9. You taught me that life is too short to hold grudges.
10. Whenever you signed my report cards, you wrote really great comments about me for my teacher to read.
11. You always helped me with my homework.
12. You taught me that it’s okay not to have all the answers, because nobody does. Sometimes it’s okay to say, “I don’t know.” and sometimes the answers are easier than you think:
    · Dione: Why is that woman bald?
    · Dad: Because she has no hair.
13. You made Danny give me the “Kiss Me” ring in exchange for that stupid “NFL” ring when I was five, securing your position as “hero” in my eyes.
14. Whenever I had to have blood tests or get shots you held my hand and let me squeeze as hard as I could.
15. The talks we had when you drove me to school and the long walks while holding your hand meant a lot to me.
16. You taught me by example not to let little things bother me, to roll with the punches.
17. You once explained to me that when you asked me to clean my room, you were really only hoping to be able to see at least part of the floor.
18. You taught us the importance of safety. You insisted we wear seatbelts long before it was the law. (You used to reach back and PINCH us if we forgot to put them on, so I rarely forgot!) And thanks to you, I will never ever cook while wearing long loose sleeves since I imagine I would burst into flames if I even considered it.
19. You made me promise you I wouldn’t get married until I was at least 25.
20. You chauffeured me to my senior prom, filled the limo full of balloons while you waited for us, and saw to it that we had a wonderful time.
21. You taught me the importance of being able to laugh at myself.
22. You’re a hard worker. You worked hard to support our family and take care of the house, the yard, and the cars. And now that you’re retired it seems like you’re always working around the house and frequently pouring cement (What’s up with all that cement?).
23. You’re one of the wisest people I know and you give great advice.
24. You encouraged me to do the things I love.
25. You give great hugs, and I get at least one every time I see you.
26. You taught me how to treat people:
    - Be generous with praise and sparse with criticism.
    - Treat people with respect; treat them like you would want to be treated.
    - When someone gives you a compliment, just say “Thank you!” (Don’t try to convince them of being wrong.)
    - When someone insults you, say “Thank you.” (It will blow that person’s mind).
    - Admit when you’re wrong. People will respect you for it.
    - Always look people in the eye and SMILE. (You said that I’d be surprised how many people would smile at me if I smiled first, and it’s true!)
27. You made us get all dressed up in Christmas jammies and do a photo-shoot.
28. You encouraged my love of writing. You taught me that if I didn’t know the meaning of a word, to look it up in the dictionary. You read my papers and gave me constructive criticism. You told me to write to be understood, not to impress.
29. I inherited my fabulous sense of direction from you. 3? 5? 4? 6???
30. You taught me that life isn’t all fun & games by having Danny & I spend Saturday mornings doing yard work (Man, I HATED that!!!).
31. You’re brave. You’ve faced your battle with leukemia head on, somehow maintaining a positive attitude and doing whatever you had to do to fight this horrible disease. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how proud I am of you. Your strength amazes me!
32. You bought me my first camera and then patiently taught me how to take great pictures.
33. You make great breakfasts, especially your biscuits and poached eggs (but why did you have to make the scrambled eggs green?).
34. You always said you had a blast raising us kids, which made me look forward to having kids of my own.
35. You have always been there for the most important moments in my life.
36. You have always been able to fix what’s broken (plus you made a very cool light-box for me!).
37. You were always there to encourage me when I was afraid to do something. Even now, when I’m nervous about trying something, I hear your voice in my head asking, “What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?”
38. When you had to give me spankings, you always said, “This is going to hurt me worse than it’s going to hurt you.” (A nice thought but I still don’t believe it!)
39. You always said, “Never look a gift-horse in the mouth.” I understood the concept, but for years I wondered, “What the heck is a gift-horse and WHY shouldn’t you look it in the mouth???”
40. Mom could have done a lot worse. Two words: Bald redhead.
41. You always told me that I was adaptable, that you thought I could survive in any situation. I never really believed that about myself, but the fact that YOU believed it made me think there was a chance it might actually be true.
42. You always told me not to worry about what other people think of me.
43. I have always felt lucky to be your daughter. I always loved being able to “show you off” to my friends. And they all loved you too. In fact, everyone who knows you loves you!
44. You’re the only one I ever wanted to walk me down the aisle. And one of my favorite wedding moments was when you were asked, "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" and you responded, "Her mother and I do FINALLY. She's our baby and she's a good one so you better be good to her, Scott, or…”
45. You always tried to be fair... like spanking both Danny and I even when it was Danny that caused the problem, so that he didn’t feel singled out...Wait a second, that wasn’t FAIR!
46. You’re a wonderful grandpa.
47. You always told me that there is no point in worrying. “If there’s something you can do about it, do it, if there’s nothing you can do about it, then what’s the point in worrying?”
48. I can always count on you to tell me I’m beautiful, even when I don’t feel beautiful.
49. You taught me to hide an extra car key somewhere on my car and an extra house-key outside my house (Just these two simple ideas have saved my butt about a million times!).
50. I’ve never had to wonder how you felt about me. You have always made me feel loved, always made me feel special, and always told me that you’re proud of me. You’ll never know how much that means to me.