I have to admit, I thought my father would outlive me. I thought most people who were still alive in my family would outlive me. When I was first diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in December 2016, they didn’t think I had long to live. Yet, I have long surpassed the “average” length of time I should have lived. Every time I go in to see my doctor I am greeted by nurses and techs who smile with surprise and excitement to see me doing so well. My brother (Shawn), and now my dad, have gone before me in that period of time. Mom passed away in 2014, so it’s just me and my sister left.
Dad had just purchased a new scooter, 500cc. It was his second ride. I didn’t even know he was thinking about getting one. He sent me a personalized Christmas ornament with Tim and me on a motorcycle. We had talked motorcycles off and on because of our rides, and we had even texted that morning about something else. I didn’t know he was riding, or even contemplating it.
He thought the scooter he bought might be a bit too big for him, so he decided to try it one more time before taking it back. That’s when he had the accident which took his life. He was 85. They think he had a heart attack which caused the wreck, but no autopsy was done to confirm. They deemed it an accident.
It was a total shock, of course. I thought he would live to be 100, or 95 at least. He died on a Monday and the funeral was that Friday. I had chemo on Tuesday and an echocardiogram on Wednesday, so we jumped in the car and drove to Kentucky for the funeral right after that. It’s a two-day drive from Conroe.
I saw my sister, of course, and her family. Some cousins were there that I haven’t seen in probably 30 years or more. It’s funny how funerals tend to bring people together. An old friend of ours from college also stopped by when he saw my FaceBook post. He lives in the same town where Dad lived, oddly enough, and his wife had even heard about the accident because one of her work colleagues was a first responder to it.
Disney is right. It is a small world after all.
The older I get, the more I realize how small the world really is, and how short life becomes. Every time we turn another month over on the calendar, the days, months, and even years get shorter and shorter. The world is spinning faster and faster with every tick of the clock. Sometimes it feels like I’m on that merry-go-round we rode as children, and it makes me dizzy.
Providentially, I had been going through some old slides that my dad had taken when we were kids growing up. It was a thing. Taking pictures and then get togethers with family gatherings usually included watching a slide show. I’ve had these for a few years, since my brother died, but I had just gotten around to turning them digital.
We had planned on going through Kentucky during our summer trip, and we were going to get together with Dad and Phoebe (his wife). I was going to show him some of the pictures and ask about them. I thought it would be fun to reminisce a bit. I had written “Visit Dad” on my calendar. Little did I know that he would be gone before then.
He was only in a few of the slides, because he was typically behind the camera. Here are a few of my favorites when I was 5-6 years old. It looks like he made use of the timer on his camera. The pictures remind me of the good times, the fun times, and the moments when our family was a family.
It’s surreal. You’ve probably been there if you have lost a parent. This is different from when I lost my mom. Different circumstances for sure. her death was expected, and I was blessed to spend the last three weeks of life with her in Hospice care. I had a chance to say good-bye, and say things as well as ask her questions.
This was different. Sudden death is no easier or harder, just different in my experience. Dad and I were not what I would call “close,” and we were just starting to re-connect over the past few years after many years of distance. The disconnect was primarily due to my parents’ divorce and events leading up to their divorce. (It’s a very long story, which I will spare you.) He was always closer to my sister, and I was always closer to my mom. He came to visit when I was diagnosed with MBC, and we started having conversations via texts after that. I was hoping we would have a few more years to continue developing a deeper connection, but God had other plans.
The cemetery was in another city and country from the funeral, and I was impressed with how respectful people were as we processed to the graveside. They pulled over, put their hands on their hearts, took off their hats, and waited for our long line without incident. We held up traffic for an hour across two counties, yet that didn’t seem to phase them. They just waited. I was impressed with their level of dignity and respect.
RIP Dad. Until we meet again on the other side…
I snapped a few selfies of me and some family members. I missed my cousin Glennis but he was there as well.
Dad re-married three times after my parents divorced, so he had other families besides ours. I have a second sister who was also at the funeral. She was really little when we first met. We didn’t grow up together, but we keep in touch on FaceBook. It was good catching up with her at the funeral as well.
À la prochaine…hasta la próxima vez…until next time!