I Miss You Dad......Day 4

Three years ago today. It was a Monday. April 25, 2005. The morning started out as the previous one. Dad was getting worse. His organs were beginning to shut down. It was decision time. The doctor asked to meet with us. We knew what was coming.

My father was an energetic man. He ran 10 miles on the beach every morning and he loved life. He lived it to the fullest. He would have never wanted to live the way he had been "living" the past 48 hours. We all knew there wouldn't be much of a discussion. It wasn't a question of "what if", it was a question of "when". We knew what we had to do.

So, the decision was made. In a small, white room, with the door shut. The doctor, my father's wife and my father's four children were all there. The papers were signed and it was done.

We had one more day. Looking back now, I wish I would have insisted that we had more time with him, even though it would have only prolonged the inevitable. I think up until the end, we were still in denial. Every single one of us. This couldnt' be happening. Not to our family, not to our Dad. I kept thinking at any minute Dad would sit up, look at us and say, "What the hell are you looking at? Let's get the hell out of here! I need a drink!" But, he didn't.

We decided to go to dinner. We told the doctor we needed to wait until we were ready. After dinner, around 7pm, we made our way back to the hospital. We made one stop. My brother wanted to pick up a bottle of Dad's favorite, Grey Goose Vodka. When we got back to the hospital, we sat around his bed and each drank a glass in his honor. Then, we took turns and toasted him, sharing stories. My brother placed some drops of Grey Goose on Dad's tongue. We knew he'd appreciate that. We laughed. We cried.

Around 8pm, one of dad's friends showed up. He asked if he could share a funny story with us. He told us about the night he brought my father home from a "guy's night out". Dad was, let's say, feeling pretty good! He said he walked my dad to the front door. When my father put his key in the door, it didn't work. He tried again. Still, no luck. He then started banging on the door screaming, "Open the door! My key doesn't work!" Soon after, a man answered and my father went balistic. He said, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house with my wife?!" The man looked at him and said, "Bob, I'm your next door neighbor. Your house is over there." Then they all laughed.

My father's wife told a story about the time Dad decided to do an experiment. He told her, "If taking one Viagra works for 2 hours, I wonder what taking six would do?" He ended up in the emergency room! This might be too much information for some of you, but that was my Dad. Always looking for the "next big thing"!

Storytelling went on until around 11pm. Then, the nurse came into the room. She asked how we were doing. She asked if we were ready. We knew it was time, but noone wanted to say it. After a long pause, my father's wife spoke up. She said, "It's time." We knew she was right. But, we still didn't want to face it. Was this actually happening?

Silence. The laughter had stopped. We took our turns saying our own personal good-byes. We then gathered around his bed. We watched as the nurse unplugged, one by one, my father's life lines. And at 11:25 p.m., 20 minutes later, it was over. He was gone. I was there to witness the last breath of the man who witnessed my first.

It was at that moment that I realized I'd never gotten my sign! I was screaming at God to wait! I said, "You can't take him yet, I don't have my sign! Please give me my sign!" I was livid with God. I yelled at Him again, "I have served You all these years! I've sacrificed my own happiness because I thought that's what you wanted! I've traveled all over the world, leaving my children behind to tell other's about You and You can't give me one little sign!? What kind of God are YOU?!" I was so incredibly angry.

But, no sign came. Now, I was never going to know. My Dad was gone. And I had nothing.