dad.

“I want you to know that you have made me so proud to be your dad,” my father said quietly. I leaned in to hear him better and he kissed my forehead and repeated, “so proud.” I sat by his bedside feeling as though we were the only two people in the world. I was so caught up in soaking in every moment that I didn’t realize that my mother, my brothers, and my sister in law were all quietly listening with tears streaming down their cheeks. My dad was my world and I refused to believe that these were my last moments with him.

            “I know that, Dad. I can’t wait for you to get out of here so we can go fishing again. It’s been too long,” I said somewhat hopeful, but more so in denial. My dad had been sick for a very long time. He had many stays at the hospital, but always returned home and regained his strength. I was sure that this was just another one of those times. He smiled and squeezed my hand. He knew exactly what I was doing, and he played along.

            “You’re the only one of my kids that can bait a hook, ya know? You catch fish better than your brothers. We need a day on a deep sea fishing boat, don’t we?” My dad did his best to smile and sound convincing, but I could tell he was tired from too many days spent fighting. He had struggled with heart disease for a very long time.

            My dad, Jim Downs, lived life to the fullest. He ate what he wanted, drank what he pleased, and laughed at people that exercised. Because of this choice in lifestyle, he had his first heart attack at 33 years old. His second heart attack was a decade later. The finale was a six way bypass surgery that happened at age 52. Ironically, this string of health problems had me convinced my dad was superman. Some people fall over with one heart attack. Others never wake up from bypass surgery. Not Jim Downs, he woke up from surgery and asked for a steak. Nothing seemed to slow him down. So surely this hospital stay couldn’t be any different, right?

            My dad waxed and waned between being fully alert and deep in sleep. After periods of unconsciousness he would awake and tell us of conversations he just had with his mother and aunt, who had passed away ages ago. “It’s going to be okay,” dad said. “My mom is there and so is my Aunt Edith. They are waiting for me.”  As peaceful as this sounded, I didn’t want to hear it. Did this mean he was close to death? Maybe the drugs are making him hallucinate. My mind raced trying to explain it all away.

            Our chat began again and he talked about how much he loved my mom. “Promise me you’ll take good care of her,” he said to my brothers who all nodded adamantly. “She means the world to me.” No one had to be reminded of that. Although my parents’ marriage was far from perfect, the love that they shared was something very real. My dad adored her and had taken on her three sons and loved them like they were his own. In return, my mom did the same for his only son. They blended their family together with four boys between them and added me to the brood and it worked. My mother’s sons had lost their dad when they were young, so I knew going through this for a second time was very difficult. All four tried to be strong for my mom and me, but I knew they were hurting as much as I was. I couldn’t begin to imagine what my mom was feeling. She was going to be a widow for the second time.

            We all watched as he fell asleep again. The room grew quiet and only whispered conversation could be heard. The air grew thick with a peace I can’t explain and a feeling of love that seemed to emanate from all around. Our talk turned to memories. Memories were shared of a full house on Christmas when my dad would make his signature fudge and the Fourth of July swim parties when we all waited impatiently for his barbequed ribs to be done. Memories of years and years of family vacations, Sunday dinners, and fishing trips filled the room. The sweet sound of laughter broke through when my brothers talked about the weekend motorhome trips to the races when my dad let them take turns driving the RV years before any of them even had a driving permit. A lifetime of love and time knitted us all together and my dad was at the very center of it all. What a bittersweet realization to have made in that hospital room so many years ago.

            My dad awoke and smiled. I couldn’t tell if he heard our conversation or if he had just returned from another heavenly moment. He took my mom’s hand and whispered, “I talked to Jesus.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and she smiled. Peace and warmth continued to grow until everyone was silent. We stayed that way for what seemed to be an eternity. As it grew late, the nurses came in and said that only two family members could stay.  Of course I offered, and of course my older brothers sent me home to get rest. They asked me to come back at 5am the next morning and relieve them. As I prepared to leave, I hugged my dad, and he pulled me close.  “You do know how proud I am of you, right?” he said. I nodded and told him I would be back. We said our I love you’s and I turned to leave. I stopped at the door and took one last look at my hero.  He smiled, waved, and blew a kiss.

            The next morning I got a call just before 5am. I let it ring twice before I picked it up. I knew what it was. My brother was on the other end and he simply said, “I’m so sorry.” I felt numb. I had no tears. I told my brother that I loved him and hung up. I opened the blinds to let the early morning sun in sat on the couch. It was already a gorgeous Saturday in July and the sun seemed a little brighter than usual. That peace that we had felt in the hospital room seemed to wrap its arms around me in that moment. It was going to be okay.

            Not a day goes by that I don’t feel like reaching for the phone to call my dad. It’s been sixteen years but it feels like just yesterday. Even though I only had him for a little while, I have no regrets of things left unsaid. He knew that I loved him whole heartedly and I knew that he did the same. My dad taught me how to fish, how to make amazing desserts, and how to make every day feel like a special occasion but the most important lesson he taught me was to cherish the ones we love and to treat every day as a gift. There are times that I miss him terribly, but that sweet feeling of peace always returns when I think about the fact that I made the most of my time with him.