6th and final, Tomorrow is a new day

Six years ago today my dad left his home in an ambulance to head for Hospice. And six years ago today was the last time he spoke to me. He called me over to his house that day and the hospice nurse was there. He was ready to go. The nurse had told me that she had asked him if he was scared. She told me that he had said no, because he had seen war, and had been scared then, not now. My dad asked me what I thought of him going to Hospice, which I think was either him trying to make sure I was ok with it, or maybe him really being scared despite what he told the nurse. I'm not sure which. I told him it was up to him, and that if he felt like he should go, that it was probably a good idea. Eric had to go to class but helped him pack some things. He told Eric to pack his cologne in case their were any good looking nurses!!!!Ha! So I rode with my dad in the ambulance. I will never forget it as long as I live, this vision of the transporters bringing the stretcher up the stairs to take him down on it b/c he was too weak to walk down the stairs. What the hell? When did this happen? It took them ten minutes to get him on the stretcher and down the stairs b/c we had to keep stopping b/c he couldn't breathe. I had to blow a fan into his face every minute despite the fact that he already had oxygen. I learned after, that people who have shortness of breath like that feel like they are getting more air if they have air in their face like that. As we rounded the corner away from his house, his dog sat in the window watching like she knew, and he waved at her. He even said "dad will be back" and we both knew he wouldn't. I noticed the "junk" in his eyes, the clouding over, and he kept trying to wipe it away. This too, I learned, happens to dying people. It is one of the signs. We got him there and settled and hung out for a few hours, we considered staying the night, but I remember thinking that it could be weeks that he would be there. As I left, I gave him a hug and told him that I loved him (which we rarely did) and I went to pull away and he did the same thing to me that Ron's nana did when she was at hospice before she became unresponsive. He pulled me back for a longer hug. I should have stayed. I had to be at work the next morning. I lay in bed that night thinking about it.
I remember the phone that I took the call on at work the next morning, May 9th. The nurse telling me to drive carefully, that I had time. He had called the nurse that morning and asked for some ice water. He had told the nurse that it was going to be a good day today (it WAS a beautiful day). She returned to find him gone, still breathing, but unresponsive. I called Eric and as I was getting on the onramp to head out there, so was he. We saw each other, it was very sad. We got there to find him laying there, his color was bad. The rest of my family showed up. We each said our goodbyes. I had Kaylee tell him goodbye over the phone. Hearing her say bye, bye bampa, was heartbreaking. Ron told him he would take care of me. I told him I loved him and would miss him, and how much I appreciated him. His hands were so warm and at one point after the nurses positioned him, they called me into the room b/c he had opened his eyes, had turned blue (fluid shift), and I raced in and told him I was there. His eyes looked scared. Then they closed, he wasn't really there at all. We stood around him just watching him breathe, I would feel his racing, erratic pulse while holding his hand. His breaths became agonal, pulse very thready, he gasped a few times and from being in the medical field, I knew this was it. I told him I loved him one last time, and he took his final breath, the nurse checked his BP and shortly after 3:30 that afternoon, we lost him. I have never sobbed so uncontrollably in my life. I couldn't believe it, I was in shock, I kept saying "my dad, my dad". I lay on his chest, in disbelief and anger. The next thing I knew, I was trying to pick out a casket, while losing it there too. It was Mother's Day week so we couldn't bury him for a few days. On one night, I drove up to the funeral home in his jeep and sat in the parking lot listening to Old Lang Syne, a song that reminded me of him. It was a crazy time, and I thank God for my children who kept me from a deep depression.
Lots of people came to the funeral. It was a nice service, and we had a closed casket b/c I thought he wouldn't want people seeing him like that. I remember the first time it rained after he was buried and how sad that made me. His headstone reads "loving son, brother, father and "bampa", love can build a bridge between your heart and mine" (one of his all time favorite songs). I can't believe it has been six years. Tomorrow, I will think and blog good thoughts about him. I will not relive all the visions I have in my head that I have just blogged about, like I do every year, unbeknownst to others. They are out of my head and on to my computer, even though this post, as long as it is, cannot even begin to express how much we went through or how much I miss him.