One Day at a Time...

Yesterday was hard.  As most of my days this past week, I woke up with the thought "my dad was here last week..." I thought about everything we had been through the past week and then I thought about the day specifically.  At 7am Dad left me a rambling voicemail - he wasn't quite sure where he was.  At 7:30 am, I called him back.  I could hear the nurse in the background, reassuring him that I would be there in a little while.  Around 9am, I was on my way to the hospital, stopping to pick up some McDonald's - an extra sausage biscuit in my bag in case he wanted one (he was never a fan of hospital food).  

When I got to the hospital Charlie (my Mom, Debbie's husband) was there. My Dad was in and out of sleep, only holding somewhat coherant concepts of conversations every so often.  He was fully awake when I got there.  He was happy to see me, wanted a swig of my coke but he didn't want the sausage biscuit.  I tucked that away for later.  He wasn't hungry. 

I met some of the nursing staff that was caring for him and we joked about busting him out and going to Disney World.  My Dad, rather excitedly, said "Oh yeah! Let's go!"  He was ready to get out of that hospital bed and go! My Dad, much like me, was a non-stop perpetual motion machine that wasn't happy unless he was doing something.  Retirement threw him for a loop and then some, but he eventually managed to figure stuff out and find things to do.  

I looked at my wristwatch so many times yesterday - Dad's condition would be this way at this particular time.  This was when Dad got lunch and I spoon fed him a couple of bites of mashed potatoes. This was when they took Dad for testing.  This was when the neurology consult was supposed to start but they were an hour late. This was when the EEG was done.... And so on and so forth.  Eventually, I got to this is what time I would have headed home and 45 minutes later when I would be heading back to the hospital.  

The first few days I threw myself into notifying friends and family, dealing with the funeral home, attempting to come up with some sort of game plan.  Nothing felt real.  I remembered what a great Thanksgiving we had with my Dad and Uncle Sport (despite them almost getting into an argument about the current political status). Back in 2023 I didn't think I would get another Thanksgiving with my Dad.  I was lucky enough that I got 2.  I also got 2 Christmases.  I was there and present and while I do wish I had taken pictures (because I'm the photographer of the family), I'm incredibly happy that I was there and present and not worrying about documenting every single moment.  

After a few days, though, I hit a wall because we're still waiting for the death certificate.  I've gone as far as I can regarding my Dad's estate until I have the chance to go back to Kentucky and deal with all of that paperwork.  The lawyer has been sending me a few things here and there and has gotten the process started, but we can't do any of the financials until we have that piece of paper.  

We decided that we are going to do the memorial service during the kids' spring break in March.  I don't want them missing school.  I have to go to KY and deal with all the lawyer stuff soon, and get that ball rolling, but everything else? Going through his house, bringing stuff back home, setting up the estate sale and then also figuring out what needs to be done at his house? All that I feel like it can wait.   I need time, I need to breathe.  I can't quite wrap my hands around everything quite yet.  

I bounce between completely devastated and angry that my Dad didn't make things easy like my Mom did.  She had everything set up and explicit instructions as far as where everything went and what needed to do.  She left me a folder of instructions!  My Dad, however - He was firmly in the "It'll all get figured out," camp.  I have a sneaky suspicion that I'm going to find something I don't like... he didn't want to talk about a lot of stuff. He kept a lot of stuff to himself, especially when it came to money.  Everything has been overwhelming to say the least.  

I think I'm most upset about the fact that we didn't get to get out more.  That there were still so many things that I wanted to do and even my Dad would tell you that he wasn't ready yet, that he had more things he wanted to do.  He was planning on going camping in his airstream this summer.  Realistically, I was like that's not going to happen, he's going to need someone with him.  But I was supportive - encouraging, even.  I wanted him to do all the things he wanted.  I was getting to the point where I believed him when he said he was going to live well into his 90s.   I teased him about him having to outlive Mitch McConnell and trump.  

I miss my Dad immensely.  It's weird not having him here and it's vastly different than when he would drive back to Kentucky.  Sometimes, I can still feel my Mom hovering around but my Dad? Not so much.  It's a different energy... and I know he's just not here.  Wherever he is, he's happy and he's at peace and I know that he's probably enjoying himself.  

I miss you, Daddy.