First night

Why is it when something horrible happens people tell you that sleep and food are so important?? I do it to my Mom now but I realize that sleeping and eating are so trivial when a tragedy occurs. The night my Dad died we all left my Mom in her house alone. I know it sounds horrible and trust me, that was not our idea. She wanted to be by herself. She even kicked my brother out, telling him she couldn't talk to my Dad or cry like she needed/wanted to if he was there. How could we blame her??

My husband and I drove out to Tempe to pick up our son who was with my nephews at my sisters house. I don't think I said more than three words the whole way there. We drove home in silence as well. There really was nothing left to say. I probably cried more tears than I knew were possible since the phone call telling me something was wrong but I kept on crying on the ride home. I tried to will my Dad alive but unfortunately that didn't work!

Once home, with Christian tucked into bed, Chris and I sat on the couch and I tried to do something, anything constructive but it was just not possible. I laid in bed and cried more. I slept for a few hours but awoke early and couldn't get back to sleep. My stomach growled but food or the idea of food turned me off. Hunger strike? No. Just no reason to eat. No reason at all.

The pain was unbearable and the reality of what happened hadn't even hit me. My Dad is gone. For good. Forever. I can't even make it through one night. How will I last the rest of my life. This tragedy, this heartbreak is unbelievable.

After I'd been up for about 30 minutes, Christian woke up, walked sleepily out to the family room and curled up next to me. "I love you Mama". Tears. "I love you too buddy. I love you a lot". Life goes on... right??

In a fog

From the moment the first phone call from Kaden came in, my life is foggy. It feels like I can't see, feel, hear or even smell the way I am supposed to. I find myself trying so hard to go back in my mind and remember exactly what someone said, what I said or what I heard. I tell the same stories over and over again and I can't help myself.

The moments of clarity are painful and horrifying. These are the moments when I realize my Dad is really gone. He is really dead. It hurts to even type that.

The first goodbye

The night my Dad died was the most surreal night of my life. When I walked into the house there was a policeman standing "guard" at the bathroom door. My Dad was behind that door, dead. The policeman couldn't/wouldn't move until the funeral home came to pick up my Dad. It took hours for the funeral home to come. On one hand I never wanted them to get there but on the other, I was sick to my stomach about him lying in the bathroom, alone and in the dark. At one point I asked the policeman to please turn on the light for him. Not that it made any difference but I needed it to happen.

A few hours later the funeral home showed up. They agreed to allow my Mom and my siblings and I to say goodbye before they took him. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin waiting for all of this to happen. It felt like the worst moments I had ever experienced. They spent some time in the house getting him out of the bathroom and finally called us in. I went in with my Mom, Bobby, Heather and my Dad's brother.

They had put my Dad on a stretcher and had in my the living room. It was the most heartbreaking vision I'd ever seen. I was in a fog and willed myself to wake up from this nightmare. We all cried and some of us said goodbye and some of us couldn't muster more than a word or two.

The most heartbreaking part of this experience was my Mom's begging my Dad to get up and to be OK. She was saying what we all wanted to say but knew it would do no good. It was more than I could take but I couldn't walk away. I'll never understand how I made it through those moments but before I knew it, he was gone.

Feeling blessed while my heart is being ripped out...

As I sat in my parents house trying to understand the fact that I had JUST found out my Father had died, people began to arrive. First it was my Mom's younger brother, my Uncle Tom and his wife, my Aunt Nancy. He immediately went to my Mom and I heard her cry out as he gathered her in his arms and hugged her tight. He had just lost his brother in law and he and my Dad were close. My Dad was a part of my Mom's family for more than 40 years and the lines of in laws and blood relative had become blurry many years before.

Soon the driveway began to fill up with more members of our family. Some of my cousins came, another Aunt and my Dad's brother and his wife. It was amazing how people just came runninwhen they knew what happened and didn't know what else to do. We hugged, talked, cried and waited for the funeral home to come. Some people needed a task, picking up water, making phone calls or making plans - while some people were content to just hug and support my Mom.

It took what seemed like several hours for the funeral home to show up and it felt as if we were in limbo just waiting. Having those that we love near us during those hours was comforting and even distracting at times. We were all in shock and no one knew what the right thing to say was but just being together and proving comfort was helpful.

My Dad might have been gone already but his spirit was among us that night.

The moment my life changed...

March 12, 2011 - It happened so fast I almost can't believe it even happened. I'm sitting on the couch after coming home from a haircut when my cell phone rings. The caller ID says it's my 14 year old nephew Kaden. I thought maybe it was my sister, using his phone.

"Hello" I say. "Aunt Sandi, something is wrong with Grandpa. My Mom says you have to go to Grandma's. It's bad". I can't believe it and can't understand what he's saying. I ask what happened but of course he doesn't know.

My husband and I leave the house quickly with our son. I am way to upset to drive. I call my Brother who doesn't answer. I get my sister in law on the phone but she doesn't know anything. Bobby is on the phone with my nephew and they are headed to my Mom's house. I tell her to please call me when they get there. She promises me she will. She never does. Turns out she doesn't want to be the one to tell me my Dad is dead. I don't blame her.

I live about 40 minutes from my parents and it feels like the ride takes hours. About ten minutes away my Brother calls. I tell him to just tell me. I don't want him to struggle with it and I don't want to wait. "He's gone". Just like that. I scream out and sob uncontrollably. "PLEASE NO!". The last ten minutes are like a dream. I don't want to get there and face the reality of my Father's death but I need to get out of this car.

When we get to my Mom's, I see the police cars and the crisis van for the City Fire Department. I am momentarily confused and slightly hopeful that this is all just some weird mistake. I jump out of the car even before it's stopped. Running into my Mom's house I can see there is no mistake and this is far from weird. There is a policeman standing guard at the bathroom door. He's in there. Lying on the floor, gone for a while. A heart attack took him on his way in or out of the shower. We'll never know. My Mom found him and he was already gone.

I feel in an instant like my life will never be the same. My rock, my strength, my biggest supporter and cheerleader is gone... in an instant.