Learning to breathe

During the course of my dad’s illness, the drugs and infections often put him in a state of confusion. Sometimes he would say things that didn’t make sense or he would confuse memories with reality. He spent his final weeks in intensive care. They gave him every antibiotic known to man and his body made its best efforts to fight off the infection. But his body was worn out and overwhelmed. He also began to experience episodes of apnea. He would stop breathing for short periods for no reason. This scared me more than anything else. When he was hooked up to the monitors and the alarm would sound when his respiration would drop too low, I would panic and say “Daddy, you have to breathe”.

It was so hard to see him in this state and I would work really hard to keep my composure. During one visit as my Dad struggle through the pain and the muddle thinking, he looked at me and said “Buddy, you gotta learn to breathe. I’m learning to breathe”. He then zoned out again as if that statement took all his energy. Once he was asleep, I left the hospital but before I made it to the parking deck I fell apart.

Now I am haunted by that statement as I try to figure out where I will go from here with my life. Over the years it has been an enormous struggle to get my life back on track. Often in a state of fear I would be holding my breath, waiting for the outcome to my situation. I will take my Dad’s advice to heart. Now I must learn to breathe as I take steps forward, once again into the unknown.

See ya later partner

In the early hours of Monday, May 29th my Poppy lost his hard fought battle and passed away. I was not there for his final breath. I don’t think I would have been able to see that. It was enough to see him slowly slip away after the doctors said there was nothing more they could do for him. These last 2 weeks since his passing have been the hardest days of my life. I miss him more than anyone could imagine.

At his funeral I prepared a short speech but somehow a drawing from one of the 4 year olds I worked with at the school ended up in my purse. My speech was in my backpack. I almost panicked just before I was to stand in front of everyone but I took a deep breath and said what I could from memory. I’d only read it over twice after I wrote it so what I did say was just the parts that meant the most. Everyone said it was meant for me to speak from my heart. It was probably better that way because I could hardly get the words out.

These are the words I wanted to say  to honor my dad’s memory:

My dad was my first friend. He even gave me the nickname Buddy because whatever he did I wanted to do. As I grew up we didn’t always see eye to eye as so often happens when children become adults. Life took us down separate paths.

The accident brought our paths back together. Sometimes he was more of a comfort to me than I was to him. He accepted his situation with humbleness and quiet grace, never once expressing frustration or complaining.

In the year and a half I spent with him, we got to know each other again. I came to realize how much like him I’d become. I have his appreciation for the simple pleasures on life and his free spirit. I also came to understand he wanted more for me than he had for himself because I am so much like him.

I am so grateful for the time I had with him, although it was hard to let go. He sometimes spoke of traveling again and the places he wanted to see. Now his soul is free to go wherever he chooses, whole and without pain.

I like to imagine that the first thing Dad did after Uncle James, Uncle Eddie, and Uncle William welcomed him was to saddle up for a ride. Dad would always say see ya later partner whenever I would leave to go home. So now I say to him see ya later partner because I know he is at peace and home at last.