Goodbye Dad

I am sitting here in the airport for a very long layover (9 hours) and trying to describe my feelings, yet unable to find the right single word or even a phrase, which would capture how I feel. I am definitely sad, and I feel a huge loss, an emptiness. I also am somewhat confused and an array of other feelings and words.

On Sunday night, I said my final good bye to my father. For 88 years, he was very healthy, did not take any meds and was fully functional: driving, going out to eat every day, bowling in a league, going to movies and shows; a full range of life’s activities. And then, he started to get sick: a combination of congestive heart failure and COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease), the smoker’s disease. Even though he quit smoking in 1989, he had been a heavy smoker for nearly 40 years and the damage was done.

Over the last 2 years, the frequency of my visits (Israel to Florida) increased and the time between visits decreased from once every 3 months to every 2.5 months and eventually hitting once a month (sometimes 3 weeks). And when I wasn’t there with him, I was on the phone with him multiple times a day and was able to make sure he was OK viewing him (knowingly) through cameras I installed to see him (we had a case of an aide who actually hit him). In addition, I was in constantly in touch with doctors, nurses, etc to make sure he was getting the care he needed.

On Thanksgiving, just a few months ago, when we did our traditional round robin of expressing our thanks, my expression of thanks revolved around my father. I was so very grateful that I was able to be with my father as often as I was (thanks mostly to the incredibly support from my wife and daughters) and I was constantly able to find additional ways to improve my father’s quality of life, most of them just small things but they made a difference. I said how grateful I was that I was able to develop a different type of relationship with my father and that we both learned to be with each other and not let our similar personalities cause the occasional flare-ups that we experienced in the past. Our roles, like so often occurs, became somewhat reversed: me as the parent caring for him and him as the child being cared for. He knew very well that he could depend on me 100% and that when necessary, I would be on the next flight out (which happened quite a few times). There were a couple of times that he said I shouldn’t come, but I disagreed and came. Each time this happened, he was either in the hospital or I got him to go to the hospital, he would then tell me that he didn’t know how he would have managed things if I was there.

None of what I have written above is to garner praise and none of it was done to receive any thank you or a pat on my back. People would say to me that I am a good son and, as much as I liked to hear that, my only feeling was gratitude that I could do these things and help my Dad. Helping him, being there for him whether physically close or far away, and constantly trying to find ways to make his life just a little bit better, actually made my life better. 11 years ago, my mother died 50 hours after my parents were in a car accident and I wasn’t there when she died, nor did I have any opportunity to help her in this terribly short period of need. Two years ago, my oldest brother died 2 days after being hospitalized and none of us, including him, knew how sick he was. And I wasn’t there when he died, although I did have some small opportunities to try to help him prior to that.

With my father, it was, thankfully very different. My brother and I were able to give of ourselves to help our father and each little bit was so appreciated by him. He didn’t take any of it for granted. It was, however so hard that we live so far away. When times have been good, the distance was always felt, but it was manageable. When times are bad, the distance sometimes seemed like a never-ending abyss, but modern technology has been very helpful in overcoming that abyss.

We promised Dad that we would be with him when it was time. He was in home hospice and his nurse told us to come, so we got on the next flight out of Israel and reached my father on Saturday. We talked to him and held his hands and we were sure that he knew we were there with him/for him. He reacted to our voices and tried to speak, but it was incomprehensible. And on Sunday night, at 7:25 in the evening, we were holding his hands and telling him that it was alright to let go. And he did. He left this world with his 2 remaining children by his side and ‘allowing’ him to leave us.

The following days were spent dealing with the funeral arrangements, flight to NY for his burial, a rental car and after the funeral, my bother and I went on a type of short roots trip visiting the two homes we lived in on Long Island (Bellmore and Nesconset). We felt that it was very appropriate after burying Dad next to Mom and our Uncle that we go to the places that our parents made our homes and guided us as children and then adults.

Today, we left our parents’ home and went to the airport for our long journey home, with both of us experiencing a myriad of feelings with one of them a sense of being lost. We have become orphans. We crossed into an unknown realm of not having parents. This is new territory for us and one that we knew would someday arrive but dreading it nonetheless.

So, this new way to define ourselves is a major contributing factor to my grasping to describe my feelings, at least to myself.

I remember very vividly, after my Mom’s death and my daughters were young, the most difficult thing for them was my profound sadness. They were used to a father who was always smiling, laughing, joking around and happy. I sat with them to explain that I was very sad and that I would be happy again. I just didn’t know when and didn’t want them to think that this would be their Daddy forever. I knew that I would be happy again but the road to get there would be long and hard. And just as I knew that then, I know now that I will adjust to my new status (I don’t have any choice) and as my Mom always said, ‘Life goes on’. Life does go on and it is upon me to determine how it will go on for me. Right now, I am in a period of stasis and I’m alright with that. It’s good that I have all of these feelings. It’s part of the acknowledgment that my Dad was such a strong and positive part of my life and that part will now be an emptiness. It will be strange and it will hurt a lot on Monday after I get home that I will not be able to call him and know immediately when he answers the phone how he is feeling and if he is having a good or bad day. I know that he was very ready to go. I was not ready to let him go, but this isn’t a choice we were given.

So, with all of the emotions and feelings I have now, my greatest one is feeling grateful for the last 2 years I had with him and that he allowed me to do for him whatever I could. This was the greatest gift he could give me.

I will forever miss you, Dad. I love you.