February 6th was the fourth year anniversary of my dad's death... what a bummer eh?
In the last couple years so much has happened. I moved back to Oregon, got pregnant..oops... had a premature baby, got pregnant again...oops... got married..
It seems like every year since my dads death something major has happened right around the anniversary... not that I like to celebrate these types of things... sometimes I feel like I don't miss him enough...
It hit me full force yesterday. I was in a bummer mood, and as I started in on the days dishes, I just started sobbing. It felt like I was feeling it all over again.
The night before my dad died I got the call that he was in the hospital and I needed to come home. I was on my way to pay my rent, and the only thing I could think was shit... i don't have any money... I used my rent to buy my ticket home, thank god I had awesome roommates. The only flight I could get was leaving the next morning at 6am... I remember packing the night before I left, I was kind of pissed, my dad had been in and out of the hospital so many times. I did'nt believe this was it. I had stood by my dad through his diagnosis of cancer, chemo, and radiation. I had driven him to his appointments, I had filled out the gazillion medical forms at all the different docs he went to. I remember at one of the appointments with the lung specialist, on the form it asked do you smoke, if you quit how long ago, etc.. etc... My dad looked at me and said oh I quit, have'nt smoked in a year. I could see the cigerettes in his pocket... I guess he felt like he was kidding everyone... his mustache was nicotine stained, and so were his hands. He smelled like a mix of febreeze, scented candles, smoke, and cheap aftershave... he was my dad... and I loved him.
I remember packing my bag, I slipped in a black dress just in case, and I remember thinking what the hell.
My roommate Laura had offered to drive me to the airport, I was leaving out of san jose. We missed the exit... I missed my flight.
I called john to tell him I had missed my flight, and I was on the next, but would'nt be down till around 9am... he was silent. He then told me, they were keeping him alive till I got there.
I was the only one not there. Everyone had spent the night at the hospital as my dad was removed further and further. I don't think anyone got to talk to him before he was'nt really there.
by the time I got there, he was way gone, he was hooked up to a ton of machines, his eyes were taped shut.
I remember talking to him, I told him to pick me out some good babies up there... Ollie was born almost exactly a year later. He has my dad's eyes.
I am sad my dad never met B
I am sad my kids will never know there grandpa
I am sad my dad was not there to walk me down the aisle
I am sad I was'nt there
I don't know what the point of me writing this is... but I feel a little better.