My dad died last week. Wednesday November 27th, 2024 at 3:22pm to be exact. It also happened to be my youngest daugter's birthday. The following day, Thanksgiving Day, also happened to be the anniversary of me finding out I was pregnant with Genesis (my stillborn daughter). An emotional week to say the least.
This blog was meant for what the title suggests... things I never got to say. But this post is a little different. I wanted to talk about Pop.
Me, my kids and my husband all made the trip to say our goodbyes to Pop on Saturday November 23rd. We got the call the previous Wednesday that Pop's health took a turn and this was probably going to be it, as he had already been on hospice care for 2 years. This was the hardest visit ever. Knowing it would be the last time we saw him. My kids each wrote letters to him saying goodbye. Some even drawing photos.
Only my son was able to choke out his own letter and the rest of my kids asked me to read it for them. Losing my dad has been difficult to say the least, but witnessing my children grieve along side me over their grandpa has been an additional heartbreak to witness.
Then it came time for me to say my goodbyes. I pictured this moment a thousand times and thought I would know what I would say and when the moment came, I was left almost speechless not knowing where to even start. I thanked him for doing his best as a father. I thanked him for giving us the life he and my mom did. We grew up so privileged. Told him I do not take for granted what he provided. I thanked him for helping me through the years. For being there. Then our conversation sort of turned to the past when I was a child. I was a big soccer player and we talked about how he was my biggest cheerleader. At this visit my dad was awake and talking and responding. It was such a gift to be able to have these last conversations. He reminisced about all the thing he could buy for a penny when he was a child. Despite my moms claims, I do not believe he had alzheimer's. He knew that Thanksgiving was next week. When he saw my husband he asked him if he still worked for the NBA player and of course Marlon said yes. They got to talking about sports. And my dad was fondly recounting how the Dodgers won the world series and spoke about his favorite pitcher. I told my dad, "Dont forget how much we love you." He replied, "I wont forget."
By this visit we were told that he could not keep any food down. His last meal was the Wednesday before. And by meal I mean a couple of spoonfulls of mashed potatoes and some ice cream, his favorite. While I was there he was still asking for mashed potatoes but I was told he couldnt eat anything. He would either choke on it or immediately through it up. Right now it was about comfort measures. He was asked frequently if he was in pain and he said no. At one point he asked for a drink. He specifically asked for soda, he loved sugary junk food. I was expecting to see him sip it from a cup. But instead my sister got a tiny cup which I often see used for mouthwash. There was a tiny amount of soda in it. She dipped an oral sponge on it... it looked like a cylindrical sponge at the end of a stick. She let it soak up the soda, then squeezed the majority out. My dad would then suck on the sponge to drink the few drops he could get out. But even that made him cough uncontrollably.
We stayed for hours. Going in and out of the room. Leaving to eat and give others a chance to visit. One of my dad's last requests was to get a photo with all the grandkids. He smiled so big for that photo. It broke my heart. I got some photos of him and me and he also smiled with me. It nearly broke me. One of the times I went back into the room shortly before we had to go I asked him if he had a good day. His reply, "I did. The best." That was absolutely heartbreaking to hear. I told him over and over that I loved him. I held his hand. I gave him a hug. I noticed that out of all the visitors we had my dad only reached his hand out for two people to hold their hands. My brother Stefan and my husband Marlon. I know that the were really special to my dad. Then we had to go. I gave him a kiss and again told him I loved him and gave his hand one last squeeze. As I left, I looked back at him in the bed. Walking away knowing it would be the last time I would see him. I walked out the front door, closed it and looked back. Again knowing the next time I go through that door he wont be on the other side. As I walked down the path that went right next to his bedroom window, I looked at the window knowing this would be the last time he was sitting there in bed. We got to the car and I got all the kids in. I sat there in disbelief for a moment letting it all hit me. I broke down. Then one of my children asked me, "Is this the last time we are going to see Abu?" I had already told them but I think they just couldnt believe it. I had to say yes. It was the saddest car ride home. That was the last day he was really awake and able to communicate and open his eyes.
The days passed and then the waiting game as to when I was going to get THE call. On 11/27/24 at 2:48pm I had the urge to call my dad. I called my mom's cell and asked to be put on speaker and put next to my dads ear. I cried on the phone again telling him how much I loved him. Thanked him for being there for me through the years but more importantly for showing up for my kids when I was a single mom. He used to show up all the time to take them to and from school. He used to step in for all the father things like donuts for dad or whatever other school event there was so that they didnt feel left out. I had also learned at my visit on Saturday that he at one point didnt want to be a father because he felt that he wouldnt be a good one. So I took this moment to tell him he did an amazing job. He should be proud. I told him that he can let go and rest. He deserves to rest and its ok to go. I told him we would be ok. Lastly I ended it with "I love you." Our conversation took about 6 minutes. My mom and sister both told me he heard me. He turned toward the phone and when I was done he nodded in understanding.
He died 28 minutes later.
So this post is a reminder of the things I did get to say. I said everything I needed to say and I feel at peace.
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