what a month

Where to start....March 22nd was my previous entry. I decided at that time I was going to start blogging again. I guess I haven't really blogged before, so 'again' isn't really appropriate, but in the early stages of the nlcf website there was a message board that I posted on nearly every day back in 03-04. I found that I really enjoyed writing and that it was a great release for me and helped me grow and heal...well that is what I deeply need now.

Little did I know, just four days after 'restarting' my blog, I would receive a phone call from my Godfather in Anchorage, Pat. I don't recall that last time I talked to him. In fact, I think the last time I saw him was at my wedding over 5 years previous. He had left me two messages on my cell phone. I didn't receive the messages until I was on my way home. They were frantic. They were about my dad. I had no idea how dire the situation was. He gave me George's number, my dad's landlord in Palm Springs California. I was in the middle of carpooling home from work with Brian and all I could think of while talking to Uncle Pat, was 'thanks' for letting me know...Slowly, it was sinking in though, the severity of the situation. I called George and he told me that dad had passed out, blacked out, stopped breathing, some of all that and all of that. That he was bleeding all over, from everywhere. He called 911. He had just been picked up by the ambulance within the half hour. What a way to start the week, March 26th. George gave me the name of the hospital and as Uncle Pat said, someone needs to get out there, quickly. I called Scott.

By the time we got to the Park and Ride, it had set in. Not that my dad was dead, he wasn't, at least not that I knew of, but the seriousness of what was happening, on the other side of the country. Brian dropped me off at my car. I'm thankful he was driving us home from work, I don't know that I could ahve driven home on 81. I called Wendy. No answer. I called her again. No answer. I seeme to never be able to get ahold of her on her cell phone. Its likely it is on vibrate or she doesn't want to or isn't able to talk to me...I found out later that she was meeting her group. I needed her. I couldn't get access to her. I broke down. Right there in my car, in the park and ride, I was balling. I couldn't contain myself and I didn't know what to do.

I started to drive home. I remember getting off the bypass. I think I called Mike, or Lisa or maybe no one, I don't remember. I do remember calling my father in-law as I got off the bypass. I had stopped crying by then, until I was trying to tell my father in law what was happening. I'll never forget how he shared with me that he loves me. At that time, I didn't really take it in, but looking back, it was the best thing he could say. He did say that him and Jennie are and will be praying for the situation.

I got home and started looking for airfare. I don't remember too much else. I'm sure I made other phone calls, received phone calls, maybe sent an email out to the staff team asking them for prayers, i can't remember. Wendy finally called me back. I wasn't in any mood to talk by then, sad, frustrated, tired, confused. She came home. The search for tickets continued. Chris and Jim came by, although I really didn't want anyone to come over. It was nice that they were there offering their support. We booked tickets, for the both of us. We flew out early Tuesday morning, out of Charlotte. We left early in the morning and barely caught our flight. Before we got the airport, Scott called and said that there wans't a need for us to come, that dad wasn't lucid, wasn't concious and wasn't going to be.

We came anyway.

I can't imagine what I would have done if I hadn't. It cost us nearly 1600 dollars to get there and back. I remember seeing him laying there in the bed, the monitor off the charts, the smell of his breath. Hugging him. Holding his hand with him not knowing or reacting. Telling him I loved him, over and over again, wishing he knew. Sure he knew. But i wanted to tell him one more time, just in case he could hear me, so i could see it, so i could be sure that he knew.

I signed the DNR. He died shortly after that. He just died.

Dean Hutchins, Scott Wendy and I left as soon as we could. Scott and I couldn't bear to be there any longer. It was the last time I saw my dad, alive, dead- before he was creamated. We drove to his apartment. He was renting a room in a house. I had no idea how poor he was, how small his room was, how much he loved each of us. He had saved cards from before I was born, cards from when I was young, when I was in high school and even the few cards I sent him the last 5 years+. Pictures of us, newspaper clippings. he was so proud of us. He loved us. And now he's dead. he died alone, no family, no pride left.

wow was it hard going through his stuff. trying to pack it up just tore me apart. seeing all the newspaper clippings that he hadn't yet sent. the big yellow envelopes that he had preaddressed. the classifieds that had job opportunities circled. i remmeber him telling me, "you don't understand," shortly before he died, when he was trying to move to virginia. i didn't understand. i wish i did. God do I ever wish I understood. If only he had died here, then i could have been near him, seen him leading up to it...something. maybe it would have been really hard, impossible even, if he had died in my home, but i can't help thinking the last time i saw him, did i hug him, shake his hand, kiss him? nope. i didn't kiss him. i hugged him when i picked him up from the bus station and when he left and maybe probably shook his hand, but no kiss. when was the last time i kissed him? i can't even remember.

I do remember going to outback with him when he came to visit me once at school. there was a wait but we saw two seats open up at the bar. we sat there right away. he bought me the 20 something ounce porterhouse. i devoured the whole thing. boy i could eat back then. i don't know what year it was, maybe my junior year? or maybe my sophomore year?

its getting late, and i'm getting emotional, but i'm finding this helpful. i hope to write again soon, and recount more of my dad, more memories good and bad, like him chasing scott through the house on margate up and down the stairs. i love him so much. i miss him so much.

i leave with this, cut and pastd from Chez's blog...

"I believe that the evil and violence that has destroyed the lives of so many will end up saving hundreds more. Our eyes have been opened, our souls torn open, and our hearts bruised. But there has been so much love, hope and strength flowing in around and out of the campus. I truly believe the goal of this evil will prove counter productive. "

I didn't even touch on the VT killings. The two guys I played basketball with just that Saturday morning and Dr. Loganathan who I had had years earlier, when he correctly and mysteriously identified hays and i in his office...