On March 5th, my dad died. Jolie got a call from a police officer saying he had fallen, while on a walk, and they were sending him to the hospital. She called all the rest of us, letting us know right away, and Heather and Holly were able to run over to the hospital right away. When they got there, they had already pronounced him dead. He had a sudden heart attack and died before even hitting the ground. I am thankful for that, because it means he didn't suffer. We all FaceTimed and talked all day, while Jolie and I booked our tickets quick to get there. I got to see him in the hospital with all the Wisconsin family through FaceTime. He looked a lot more like Grandpa Charlie. He had blood on his hand and face from falling, but he looked relaxed too, and peaceful. Picturing him now, I can still see his hands. I know where the sunspots are, and how short his nails were, and the white arm hairs curling slightly over his watch band. His glasses were off, and his eyes were shut.
This is very hard for me to write, but I want to remember it. Jolie and I got to Wisconsin and stayed at his house. It still smelled like him, and felt like he would walk in to the room at any moment. We got to work, cleaning up and organizing things. Holly was to take over the apartment and tenants. I was to get and sell the soldiers. Jolie was selling all other odds and ends. Heather, Robin and Becky were doing the paperwork and calling places. It's a lot of work when someone dies. We didn't know his wishes for sure, so he had to hunt for the Will, since they wouldn't let us in his safe deposit box right away.
We did our best to figure out what he would want for a funeral and burial. We all kind of thought he would live forever. He was very healthy and in good shape when he died. Paul always got his labs, and it didn't look like a person who would have a heart attack. It was likely a bad reaction to his second covid shot, but also, that's not verified.
I don't have any regrets, although I do wish he was still here. I have voicemails saved from him, and I love to listen to his voice. We had plans for him to come see us 2 weeks after his second shot, so he'd be safe from getting covid from anyone. He was also working on selling his house, and coming to live with Jolie and with me, back and forth, to spend time with the grandkids, like his dad did, when I was little. I was really looking forward to that, and I'm heartbroken that it didn't happen. Not just for me, but for my kids. He was a really good person, and the kind of person I wanted my kids to see, and learn from, and interact with. We just ran out of time.
My dad lived to be 83, and that's a long life, but he was a giant, and had so much more to give and teach us. I miss his stories, and calls, and foot rubs, and hugs, and scares when I walk back into the room. I miss how he knew everyone's name (including last names), and how he said, "tookie" instead of "cookie", and his willingness to be taught new ideas and skills. I miss the smell of his room, and how he said my name, "Miss Marie", and his grey blue eyes, and his laugh. I miss our fancy birthday, and valentine's day, and st. Patrick's day, and every other holiday (big or small, or even made up), cards with our names written on the front, and pictures. I'm so bummed he's not here anymore. It's still really hard to understand. I cry about him lots still.
I don't know what life looks like after your body dies, but I do believe there is more. I believe his soul, or spirit, or energy is still alive, although alive looks different. I hope he knows how much I love him, and I'm thankful for his generosity, positivity, patience, and good example. He was never unkind to me. He was proud of me, especially when I did anything creative or artistic, because he was an artist, and maybe I reminded him a little of himself. I hope he continues to watch over us, and protect us, and love us, like he always has. I love you dad.
