NOTE: ORGINAL POST STARTED SEPT 23, 2021, COMPLETED MARCH 2023.
My dad died last week.
He died alone, in a hospital, peacefully in his sleep.
That’s what they told me.
All he wanted was to outlive his dad, he felt that Poppa hadn’t had enough time.
He did outlive him, by a number of years.
But life wasn’t kind to him, and neither were alot of people.
Dad had diabetes, and though the disease ravaged him, he just wouldn’t accept he couldn’t do everything he wanted to.
He was diagnosed through a required physical at his full time job. Sugars were off the charts.
Early enough to catch however, with medication in pill form.
Trouble was, if he felt good, he didn’t bother taking them.
He was too busy.
He was too busy, being a hockey coach (one that didn’t know how to skate, but wore his Kamik boots on the ice and ensured that every single player, regardless of talent got fair time on the ice. When Jamie was the only one that hadn’t yet scored a goal that season, he rallied everyone to see if they could accomplish that as a team for him.), The superstar’s dads were not pleased. He didn’t care. How could the other team members gain confidence and technique if they were never given ice time?
He was also too busy being our baseball coach. Going into work late, so we had our coach at our game. He was high on the request list at the beginning of every season, Those who got him got the same lesson. Fair play. Field time. I do remember one kid who absolutely couldn’t play. My brother was put in the field beside him, and together they held down the field.
He was also busy with his side businesses. He had 2 of them. In addition to his full time job. He worked harder so we wanted for nothing.
First, he started his own disc jockey business. Remember those?
Spinning records, for weddings and banquets, New Years Eve parties…. again, he was high in demand. It was his goal to make the experience for the hosts the very best it could be.
The other gig? Jimmy Head Water Supply. Water delivery to those that lived out of town’s water grid. When the neighbor across the street had her house catch fire in the middle of the night, he hopped in the truck and filled the tank to support the fire department. He wanted nothing in return.
She was a lovely German lady, and though we had never spoken to her, she was in need, and he had the ability to help.
My brother’s birthday is in February, and there was always an outdoor party ay our house… he’d flood the backyard and turn it into an ice rink. We’d skidoo, three wheel, and toboggan all over the property.
There were the few times he was able to score tickets to a Toronto game in Buffalo for the hockey team. Nosebleeds, who cared? We were at an NHL game.
Then? There was Brantford. The early years of WWF wrestling. No joke.
Andre the Giant, the Iron Sheik, Rowdy Roddy Piper… we got to sit front row for 5 bucks.
It’s ironic how the other 2 can forget these things so easily and only remember how he never did enough for them. He killed himself to make them happy. He literally almost got fired (union job thank goodness) for sleeping at his full time gig because he was trying to give his wife and kids everything.
In return, they shit all over him.
Multiple surgeries, little to no visits.
Almost 2 decades in my home, and I can count on one hand the amount of times they came to the house. They judged him, said his house was too messy. So I spent a thousand dollars building a new deck outside he could access so he could see his kids. Once a year. For an hour.
Then? They d go home and judge. what he hadn’t done for them, blind eye to everything he had tried. If it wasn’t the way they thought it should happen? It was trash. They were embarrassed. Especially when he began to fall apart. Literally.
No one ever showed up to help me with him, but they all had ways and means of how I should have and could have done it better. We had baby monitors in his room, and when we heard him fall out of bed, myself and my children would help him back into bed. Sometimes 5 or more times poer night. The meds were crazy. Fentanyl patches, morphine, some other one I can’t remember and when that wasn’t enough he could top up with Tylenol. I was so scared he was going to overdose… I crossed my fingers every day, and to be honest? I hid some to make sure he’d be there when I got back from being on the road. The first surgery they cut him off of all drugs cold turkey to do the amputation, and Nan could hear him screaming in pain from the other end of the hall with the elevator doors closed. It was cruel and inhumane. i made sure he didn’t go through that again.
I need to mention that at the time I was caring for him, we had just moved into the house, (he wanted to make sure I had a good house if he didn’t make it through surgery. He’d sit int he car while we loaded the trailer, and then drive it over so we could empty it…. it was what he could do to help.)
My kids were 4 and 10, I was 6 years in to a 7 year endeavor getting my divorce, trying to get my oldest son back from a vindictive ex husband and step mother , working my ass off in salon, and travelling across Canada and the US on weekends, getting back door numbers to authorities in hospital from nursing friends because he was lying to them about who was at home, so he could just go home because he was bored.
We’ve done amputations during SARS, where he begged me to let him die by medical means because he couldn’t take the pain, and we counted every 5 minutes until the next pain dosage… to have the doctor not bother to show in the am to address the mistakes from the evening before.
We did most of COVID, but the dementia was starting to get the better of him, and he was not the person he used to be. He started yelling and swearing at me, we’d have screaming fights that I was certain would bering police.
This is when the siblings stepped in and took over. When he couldn’t defend himself. He must have thought it was amazing, he could reconnect with them. He could fix all the things he had done to upset them. he could make it right. He spent his life trying to make it right.
They were thinking something very different.
She stepped in and made sure that she got what she thought she was due.
If its one thing Shane taught me, it was to do my homework. Make sure you have every detail before moving forward and crushing them.
Almost there… almost there. The courts will take care of you.
He is a waste of space that doesn’t pay child support and fakes illnesses to have his license taken away to work under the table. Demands respect and gives nothing in return. The courts will take care of him.
I was getting ready to travel back to work, and an email came through.
“Dad died last night. He was in the hospital being treated for pneumonia.
If you want to see him before he gets cremated, you’d better get there today or tomorrow. Make your arrangements with the funeral home.’
She had the nerve to let my son know that I should know he didn’t look good.
Bitch, really? I’ve seen him worse than you ever have.
When we got to the funeral home with my kids and spouses to say goodbye.
he was in a hospital gown. Not even dressed. I had his outfit for him I’d saved just in case. It was the pink shirt he’d worn to Nan’e service, some dress pants and a nice blue sweater…. zip up that his mom had bought him.
There was no goodbye from anyone. He went with nothing from any of them.
They complained about how much it cost to have him cremated. I have the texts, I ‘ll post them. He was nothing but an inconvenience to them.
When I saw him, he looked different. The pillow under his head was really big. He was farther downt he bed than most were. So I started to take ‘inventory’ if you will.
I’d taken him through three amputations, and a shoulder surgery, and cataract surgery, and dozens of hospital and doctor/specialist visits. Save for the cataract surgery, they were all informed every step of the way from me what had occurred, how he was doing and what a timeline should be for recovery. I’d always get the same response. ‘K, let me know , I’m pretty busy but if I can I’ll stop in.
I looked at my kids, and wondered out loud why he was looking so different… I literally asked, ‘ I don’t mean to be rude, but where is the rest of him?’
Their faces said it all.
Dad had had his last leg amputated in the spring…. and no one bothered to tell me.
At this point I was a specialist in this stuff, but no one bothered.
I wonder if they sat at his side, or was merely available by phone?
I wonder if he went through it alone…
He died alone.
He’s not alone anymore, he is whole, and he is happy.
I can hear his laugh, sheer joy when the grandchildren are having fun.
I hear his laugh when they play with his trains.
We didn’t end on good terms.
It happened a couple times. Major blow outs… but the base was still there.
The last time we talked, we had a blow out.
But it wasn’t him I was talking to. It was the one who was excited he could make things right with his other daughter.
I know that we’re good. He wouldn’t be here with me if we weren’t.
I also know what she did. Soon, everyone else will as well.
I did the very best I could…
And I know you know that.
And I know we’re good.
And I know you know that I miss you.
And I know that you know that I still hear the wheelchair, your cough, smell the cigars, and cringe every time and candle is lit.
And I know that you know that I am trying my very best to live every day being the best I can be, working the hardest I can… just like I was taught to, by you. For me and my family.
It’s my final tribute to you. To so as you would have done. Because it’s the right thing to do.