I got home from lunch this afternoon at around 4pm. My grandma immediately told me to go to my mom upstairs and that something had happened to dad. I run up to see what's wrong. She tells me that dad had a heart attack at his office and the paramedics were there with a defibrulator.
That didn't sound good. But I figured my dad's a trooper and he would be ok. Mom and I found out where he was being taken and hopped in the car so that we could be there for him.
My mom and I got to the hospital only to be greeted outside of the ER by one of his colleagues. The way he took my mom's arm was all too telling. Her tears were even more telling. My daddy was gone.
I didn't even get to say "hi" to him this morning.
We stood out there for about 10 minutes trying to process what happened. I called my little sister. She was hysterical. I called my auntie. She wasn't too much better. All everyone could say was "NO! NO!" and I believed them. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening.
Not to my dad at least. He's like Superman. Impervious to all of this ish.
They called us into the hospital to sit in a room so the doctor could talk to us. He came in and told us things about "cardiac arrest" and "they did all they could" and "we did all we could" and "he didn't make it." They asked if we wanted to see him.
I lost it. But I knew that I would never forgive myself if I didn't take the opportunity to see him today. I had to. And if not for me, for my mother.
When I finally got enough nerve about myself to actually go in there and see him, I followed my mom into the room down the hall. There he was, on the bed with a respirator in his mouth. His eyes were still partially open.
My mom went to close them and kissed him on the forehead. I, on the other hand, defied reality and tried to wake him up.
"Wake up, daddy. Please. Don't do this. You can't do this. Please, wake up."
I shook him. I pleaded with him. I yelled at him to do this ONE THING for me.
But he didn't. He just lay there. Lifeless. My dad was dead. I closed his eyes myself, told him "I love you" for the last time in his ear and left the hospital.
I never thought it would happen so soon...I figured if it did happen, it would be like this, but had I known; if I would have even suspected that today would be the day that the first sight of my father would be of him lifeless on a gurney at Centinela Hospital, I would have done things differently. Much differently.
I haven't actually seen him since Tuesday when he popped his head in my room to say hi. Perfectly normal, but now I feel like shit. I haven't seen my dad alive since Tuesday.
I should have paid more attention to Jenkins' blog a few weeks ago. I should have taken that time to really reflect and appreciate the people I have around me. But I didn't. I've breezed in and out of the house, barely saying a word to anyone, let alone the first man in my life.
So to you, Daddy, now that you've crossed the threshold into another plane of existence (hopefully), I want to extend my apologies:
I'm sorry for yelling at you last week when we got into that big fight.
I'm sorry for not telling you how my day was last night because I was too lazy to come out of my room and actually see you.
I'm sorry for not showing you my FIDM report card because I thought it was a stupid thing to ask to see.
I'm sorry for not watching Jeopardy with you.
I'm sorry I didn't get up to say goodbye to you this morning.
I'm sorry that you didn't get to walk me down the aisle last weekend. I know how much that meant to you, so I'm sorry that me and Nathan didn't work out.
I'm sorry for worrying you on those nights I decided I didn't feel like coming home.
I'm sorry that you didn't get to see me become the woman that I am meant to become.
I'm sorry for not telling you "I love you" and for assuming that you already knew.
I'm sorry for complaining nearly everytime you asked me to do something.
This list could go on forever, but I know it won't do any good now. I just wish it would. I really wish it would.
I miss you. I love you. Please...come back.