I didn't sleep well for the first two months after my dad died. I had a hard time falling asleep. The silence was the loudest I have ever heard it. I cried every night. I couldn't breathe because I was so stopped up. I would wake up in a panic and see things in my nightmares. I thought I was dying every single night for 2 months straight. I wrote a lot of things down in the middle of the night. I didn't know what else to do. The list in this post was one of those things.
I broke down in the grocery store parking lot staring at Lowe's in the distance. I got to thinking- always a dangerous pastime. It hit me. It really hit me. My dad and I walked into Lowe's together. We were talking. We were laughing. We were smiling. We were planning. We were just picking up one thing. Twenty minutes later he was rolled out on a stretcher and I walked out. He didn't.
He didn't walk out.
I stood there, stunned. That's not even the right word. Numb? Shocked? I glared at everything around me. I saw 2 ambulances and a firetruck. I knew exactly which one my dad was in. There was a battle raging. I watched the other EMS workers walking back to their vehicles - just another day in their jobs - a routine walk. I waited for them to give me more details - to tell me what I was supposed to do or where I was supposed to go. Not one of them looked my way. They chit chatted with one another. What were they saying? I was confused why I was so alone. I was confused why no one checked on me. I stood there - at the ready - ready for anything they might ask or tell me. I was ready for someone to take me to the hospital. But they drove away. A red truck drove up, windows down. A lady leaned out, threw her arms up like she was confused, and yelled to me "what happened". I don't think I have ever said so much with my eyes in my life. I saw the ambulance start to drive away. I half walked/half ran to my car.
This list is where the "walk" in a walk through ordinary was inspired.
the walk into Lowe's
the walk in the aisle
the walk to the bench
the walk that didn't happen
the walk out of the store
the walk to my car
the walk into the ER
the walk to the family room
the walk to the bathroom
the walk into his room
the walk down the hall
the walk out of the ER
the walk upstairs
the walk down my street
the walk into the funeral home
the walk through his past
the walk into visitation
the walk up to the casket
the walk up to the podium
the walk to the grave site
the walk to sprinkle dirt
the walk on the pool deck
the walk out to my car
the walk alone
the walk in my backyard
the walk under the stars
the walk into the therapy
the walk of grief
the walk that won't happen
the walk into the unknown
I'll highlight a few of the walks. I already mentioned the walk in and the walk out and the walk that didn't happen. The walk into the ER. I got to the hospital first. I went to check in. She explained to me I would have to wait outside because of Covid and would get a call when I could come in and meet at the security desk. She said "I'm not sure how long that will be. It depends how serious." I immediately replied, "it is serious."
I walked outside and hopped up on the bricks. I called my brother who updated me that he was pulling in. While talking with him, I got the call. I told him to come on in when he got there. There was a guy standing at the security desk. I could tell he was a chaplain. I knew he had been sent to help us receive the news. I looked at him with naive certainty and said "you are here for me." My unaffected life was about to come crashing down. He wasn't quite sure what to say or maybe he didn't hear me. About that time my mom and brother came walking in. My brother's wife was outside but could not come in because of Covid. That didn't seem right.
The chaplain led us down a hall. He used his badge to open a door. As those doors opened and we walked through, I had a rush of hope. I heard a worker stating "he just finished chemo" and I could tell they were rushing around. That was my dad in there. They were talking about my dad. They were trying to save his life. He was alive. While I had hope on the drive, I also knew it was bad. I didn't know what to think. But he was still alive. They were still fighting. He was still fighting.
We were taken into a family room. I won't go into details about this because that's a very intimate moment with family. My mouth stayed extremely dry. I was downing water. I eventually had to pee. The chaplain walked with me to the restroom. I walked past nurses. Did they know who I was there for? Did they know something I didn't know? Could they tell I was going through the worst experience of my life and had to go to the bathroom to pee? I looked at myself in the mirror. This was happening. My face was red. Mascara had flaked just a little on my cheeks but wasn't smeared. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.
The walk into his room. This was the absolute hardest moment of my life. I don't know how you prepare for it. I was still numb - still in shock. I was confused. I didn't know what to do. I have watched this scene on tv shows and in movies so many times. It's absolutely gut wrenching.
I felt pressure - pressure to say and do the right things - pressure to make sure I wouldn't have any regrets. But I had a weird calm and peace. I didn't feel like I had to pour out my heart. I didn't feel like there were any words left unsaid. My dad already knew how I felt about him and I knew how he felt about me. He showed me he loved me every single day - in the smallest of actions. I felt like I was being watched - observed - for how I handled the moment. But mostly I was just concerned for my mom and my brother. I gave my dad the most gentle of hugs and lightly kissed his forehead. I mustered out the words "I love you." I think I said a few other things but I don't remember. And that was it.
I felt like I should do something more profound - something more significant - something more dramatic. I was terrified of messing that moment up. Mostly I just stayed out of the way so my mom and brother could have their moments.
The walk out of the ER. This was also one of the hardest walks of my life. The chaplain guided us out. It didn't even feel like I was putting one foot in front of the other. It was as if I floated out of the hospital. It took forever. I couldn't see anything around me. Tears welled up in my eyes. We walked past nurses in the hall and patients sitting in the lobby.
My tears felt like a scarlet letter defining me in that moment. I was now someone who just lost her dad - a person whose life was forever changed that day. Did they all know? Could they see the tears? Were any of them there when I first walked in? Did they hear me say "it is serious"? Could they tell I was taking the first steps toward a life without him by my side? Did they know that bag was full of the clothes he just put on that morning? Could they see the shoes he was wearing when he walked into Lowe's with me? That bag was full of unfulfilled plans - a visual reminder of how fragile life is. Did they know I had just seen him smiling and laughing and joking with me? Did they know we had just celebrated him?
I think I'll talk about the other walks in a follow up post. This was a hard one to write. It was pretty emotional for me. I had been putting it off.
Moral of the story - we all have these moments that we must go through - the good, the bad, the ugly, the ordinary, and the extraordinary. And when you break them all down, you can see a life full of the snapshots and movie stills. I am trying to capture some of mine and, maybe, there are times we are watching the same movie.
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