I’m Glad My Father Just Died
I know that sounds horrible but hear me out.
My dad just died one night. He stood up, he died. Dead before he hit the ground. My phone rang very early in the morning and the only time that happens is when there is bad news. It was my mom. She was stammering and all I said was, "Who?" She finally blurted out, "Your dad."
And he was gone. Been gone for several hours at that point. He was found the next morning by his wife. Their power had gone out while watching their show. It was 10:45pm or so and since there was no power, she went to bed. He decided to puff on a cigarillo on the patio since that April night was temperate.
It was indeed a temperate night, clear skies and a full moon. At seven months pregnant, I was rolling in to the weekly trivia competition where everyone else was playing for second place. I wanted to call my dad to confirm our final answers for the last question of the night, after we turned them in of course, since the question was in his wheelhouse. I grabbed my phone and noted the time, 10:50pm. I hesitated. I didn't want his wife to be angry at me for calling so late so I didn't. We won, again. No need to confirm with Pops, we'd nailed it.
I went to bed and woke up to the news that he was gone. After having puffed on cigarillo while watching the full moon rise over the meadow that spread out in front of his apartment patio, he stubbed it out, stood up, had his third, and final, massive heart attack and died before he hit the ground.
He was found hours later by his wife; she called EMS and my brother who lived nearby. Dad was face down, no defensive measures were taken to break his fall, I was told. Sparing the details, he landed in such a way that indicated he was dead before touchdown.
My first emotion upon hearing of my father's death was disappointment. He could have lived longer. He died from a lifestyle choice. He could have changed his ways, ate better, gotten the surgery he needed to fix his back, exercised again. He did none of these things and it killed him.
Be that as it may, it took a bit of time for me to be thankful that my dad died the way he did, but not when he did. He was only 65, he could have lived to see my children born and grow up a little bit.
Several of my Gen-X friends have been dealing with their aging Boomer parents, ending up as their caregivers as they move into middle age. Some have dealt for years and years with sick parents, helping with daily living chores, upwards to helping them bathe and relieve themselves. Some, in addition, also deal with medical bills, insurance claims and adjusters, home health care, assisted living care and then their eventual death care.
This can go on for years, draining compassion, energy and bank accounts. One friend did this for four years and when his final parent died, I texted him, "You're free." His response was one of gratitude that I acknowledged it. His parents were both dead and that was sad. He still had to deal with their estate and settle up all the debts. They paid for him to take care of them out of their estate but when it came time, he couldn't get back into the workforce easily.
"You've been out of work for four years. What have you been doing?" The interviewer would ask.
"Managing the daily care of my sick parents," he'd respond.
"So, you weren't working. Got it."
He struggled but found his footing again. He is just one of thousands of people dealing with the same thing. He suffered after they died and not just with grief but in reclaiming his own life and restoring himself.
I’m not glad my father is gone. When he died, I was about to have my first child and it would be six more years until my daughter showed up, who would have been his first granddaughter. He missed so much. I missed so much with him gone.
No, I’m not glad I don’t have a dad anymore but I am glad that when it was his time to pass, he was at least happy and peaceful up to that final moment. I was told that the heart attack would have hurt pretty badly, but then not much else would have been felt. I am glad that he didn’t really suffer. I’m glad that we all didn’t suffer along with him. I’m sorry he was alone, but then again he was sitting on the patio enjoying a temperate spring night, watching the light of the full moon set the meadow aglow...
That was the last thing he saw, and there are much worse ways to go.
