Perhaps it started last summer when my father whom I hadn't seen in about 17 years almost died. After a stay in the hospital my half-sister moved him and eventually her mother into a nursing home. He was over 700 miles away and the only contact I had was the aforementioned half and whatever nurse or aide I could get on the telephone. So I packed my bags and along with my husband we journeyed back up North to the Big Apple. I've never really wanted to go back. There were far too many painful memories there. It was good that I did go. Because I found the good memories hidden just below the surface. Fathers Day and I visited with my Dad, lying in bed, hooked up to oxygen, unable to get up and use the bathroom (he didn't want me to know about the "diapers") He was so far removed from the vital, social man who raised me until he took off with the shrew who inhabited the other bed. In my heart I knew I would never see him alive again.
Flash forward. A bright and sunny end of summer day. I was driving my son and his girlfriend to school because her car broke down. Wham, a redneck in a dual header truck ran a red light and sent us spinning. Hostile, nasty, unwilling to take responsibility for his actions. My sweet red car that I was so proud of (Old but all mine) crippled. We were fine, the other people were fine (except for their attitudes).
Zap on again. Two weeks, three weeks... my son was at work at a local convenience store when they were robbed. Being the hero I have always told him NOT to be, he jumped a counter, wrestled the crack head to the ground and saved the day. What prompted him to ignore Mom's advice? Said thief shoved a woman up against a soda cooler on his way out the door.
Next day. This is hard for me. You may recall my cheerleader at the nail salon blog from way back. Well, it seems she was out offroading with 2 boys when they lost control of their vehicle and plunged 55 feet over a cliff. The boys survived. She died. That poor little 18 year old, so full of life and energy, was gone. Just like that. I became obsessed with it. Of course I knew her mother, but this went beyond that.
The Sat after these adventures my baby girl got married. Beautiful and in super control. No glitches, no hitches.
Move forward 10 days. It's after 11:00 PM when most of us old folks are winding down or winded out. The dreaded middle of the night phone ringing... my father died. Just like that. I had written to him just the weekend before sending him souvenirs of his grand daughters wedding. The day after he got them he just stopped breathing.
I am an orphan. I am 53 years old and my parents are both gone. But they are together somewhere I am sure. And my mother is berating my father for leaving us for another woman and my father is agreeing it wasn't too smart. And the harridan sits in her bed in the nursing home enjoying all the attention she is getting as the bereaved widow. No funeral. Quickie cremation, no service, no obituary, no final farewell. Thanks half sis. But I did get my own (and my parents) back. Local obituary recorded his passing and joining his beloved wife (MY MOTHER) in heaven. I hope they are having wonderful vacations together, seeing mountains, wading in rivers, having breakfasts in little dives in small towns no one ever visits. And I hope he's driving a big old 59 Caddy!
