Ode To My Father

I think about my father quite often. I miss him terribly. My thoughts of him are especially surface today though. He passed away two years ago today.

I remember receiving the cell phone call that Tuesday from my brother telling me that dad was being taken to the hospital. I almost didn't answer the call even because I was in the middle of something at work, but really, Matt doesn't call me that often so I picked up the phone. My dad, he'd had other hospital trips earlier in the year because of his heart, each visit more serious than the last, as the doctors had to take more aggressive steps each time to get his heart back to normal rhythm. While still scary, I honestly thought that this would be like previous trips - we'd go to the hospital and they would make him better and we'd all go home.

I remember driving so quickly to the hospital, I wasn't even sure it was the right hospital, but my family usually always goes to the same one. I was the closest; I dropped everything at work, told my manager I was leaving, ran to my car and raced to the hospital. I was praying the entire way, driving way too fast, calling my husband on the way and illegally using the carpool lane (almost hoping to be pulled over because maybe they'd escort me to the hospital then). When I was within a block of the hospital, they tried to stop me because of some construction, but I ran the red light and disobeyed the flagger anyway. I really just didn't care at that point.

I was the first to arrive at the hospital, I even beat the ambulance there. I ran into the ER waiting room and asked about my dad; they said he wasn't there and then after probing, I learned that there was an ambulance on the way there.

My brother, Matt, was the next to arrive - he tried to get more information from the ER, but they were truly less than helpful. Finally, we saw an ambulance pulling in; it said Fire District 7 so we knew it was the right one. I remember them opening up the back of the ambulance and seeing my dad, fully alert, having a hard time breathing though so he had an oxygen mask on. I greeted him and recall not wanting to tell him I love him because that would be final and this was not going to be final. They'd just rebuilt the ER there and the ambulatory entrance was now coded. They typed in the code, but the doors wouldn't open. Typed in the code again, but again, the doors wouldn't open. I remember knocking on the doors as they tried to open the doors for a third and fourth time, all the while, my dad was on the gurney trying to catch his breath. I was so angry.

Family started arriving one by one and they took us to a private family waiting area where a counselor would come in and explain what was happening. We kept hearing "Code Blue" over the intercom and the counselor explained that it was a call for more help. Finally, she allowed one family member to go see him. We all agreed it would be Melissa, since she's the doctor and would understand the most about what was happening. We kept asking if we could get my husband and Melissa's boyfriend back there to give my dad a Priesthood blessing, but they wouldn't allow it. I can't imagine what Melissa went through as she went back to see my dad. Right before she left, we said a family prayer - how I was nominated to say it, I don't know. All I remember about it was asking that he would be ok but acknowledging that the Lord's will be done.

After Melissa came back, it was evident that he was in really bad condition. They told us that they couldn't get any air to him because his airways had collapsed. The next thing I knew they told us we could all go back to his room and tell him good-bye; that he would likely still hear that if we hurried. They pronounced him dead at 12:46PM on August 14, 2007.

I love and miss my father so much! I know we are sealed together as a family and will see him again, but that doesn't make me miss him any less. I learned so much from my father. Through his example, he taught me of kindness, humor, charity, gospel principles, unconditional love, to always challenge myself, to know that I could do anything, not to settle and that if I waited long enough, I would eventually be big enough to get back at Matt for teasing me when I was little.

Matt put together a slide show of pictures set to music. To this day, I have a difficult time whenever I hear the song, "100 years."

I love you, Dad.