Emotional Day

I don't know why this day was so emotional for me. It started with one of my office-mates coming into work and telling me her dad died yesterday. They were not close at all and she was not really upset at all. She has not seen him in years, but has kept in contact and helped him to get health care assistance as he needed. I am just so sad for her. Not necessarily because she lost her dad, but because she never got to have a dad like I did. She said she hopes they don't ask her to speak at the funeral because she can't think of even one happy/positive memory of him. I cried on and off in the bathroom all day today while she followed the W.NB.A draft online and talked to her mom (divorced parents) as they worked to get plane tickets to go to the funeral. Part of me was crying for her and the other part was crying for the stirred up memories of losing my own dad.

I don't ever remember my dad working outside the home. He was diagnosed with a pretty aggressive case of multiple sclerosis when I was 6 months old and had to quit his job working road construction. I've written a bit about him before, but not in the context of our father/daughter relationship.

Some of my earliest memories of my dad are sharing a bowl of cereal with him. I always ate my own first while he was shaving and then I got him a bowl with 2 spoons and climbed on his lap. (His ice cream was fair game too.)

Caring for a parent when you are still a small child is a very unique experience and to say we were close would be an understatement. He used a cane for a few years and was wheelchair bound by the time I was around 4 or 5 years old. I was his go-to girl. I loved getting him whatever he needed and remember playing with my toys near his recliner "just in case" (even though I rarely liked what he was watching on TV). He often wore a patch over one of his eyes to strengthen a weaker one. I helped him pick it out and he let me choose green. Yes, my dad wore a green patch over his eye because that was the color his 3 year-old daughter picked.

By the time I was 8 or 9, I helped him with all his Christmas, birthday, and anniversary shopping for my mom. Sometimes we did it together and sometimes he just told me what he wanted. Our together shopping trips were a riot. We would fly down the mall as I pushed his wheelchair and then jumped on the back rods with both feet and rode it like a scooter. If my mom saw us, he would tell me to stop, but when she was nowhere to be seen we both laughed our asses off. Now as an adult I can only imagine what other people thought when they saw us. I never noticed if they were staring back then.

We spent many Friday nights together so my mom could go out with friends or just take a break. He never complained about my lack of variety in dinner choices - always a frozen Red Baron pepperoni pizza with extra mozzarella. On good days he would feed himself and on the rougher ones, he would tell me that he wanted his food hot today which meant he wanted my help. I would cut up several pieces of pizza and we just shared off the same plate as I sat on the arm of his recliner. His drink of choice was a Pepsi with a bendy straw.

Together we figured out so many things. When he started having trouble signing his name to the cards he got for my mom, he told me just to do it for him. I refused and told him Mom would rather see his signature than mine. After a bit of a debate, I got him to try a felt-tipped pen (much better gliding) while I helped him move his arm to write. This method worked for us for as long as he lived and I am still very proud of him for doing this. We also figured out our own method of physical therapy to help stretch his muscles. He would tell me what to do and I did it even though I always felt like I was hurting him. "It's a good hurt" he would always say.

My mom, brother, and I had balancing contests with Dad's wheelchair. As we each got a little better we had to up the ante. First it was getting into a balancing position with no external help - just shifting the wheels to pop a wheelie into balance. Then we added in movement - who could make it around the dining room table on those 2 wheels. My dad was always entertained and found his own way to join in by grabbing for our feet as we got close to his recliner. I spent many times flat on my back in that chair with him laughing.

As his MS progressed, many of his friends and family started to make less frequent visits. His speech was difficult to understand and I know that made alot of people uncomfortable. I hate that they missed out on him. His smart-ass antics were still in full force if you were patient enough to let him get them out.

The last time I saw my dad alive and well was in a mall parking lot back in Nebra.ska after lunch at a restaurant there. My family had come to say good-bye as M. and I were leaving for Californ.ia the next day to start graduate school. Three months later, I got a call that he was sick and in the hospital. This was not the first one of these calls. He had a few different "infections" throughout the years that we didn't know if he would pull through or not, but he always did. This call was different and in my gut I just knew this was it. I can't explain why I knew, but I did. I was on the next flight home, but he was in a medical coma before I got there. He fought a very hard fight and we stayed by his side day and night, but he just couldn't do it anymore. He died September 25, 1999 at the age of 53.

I still miss him and wonder what he would think about how I have turned out. He wasn't there for my wedding, Masters graduation, my first real job, and he will never meet our future children, but I try to take him along with me all the way. His picture was in my bouquet the day M. and I got married and his wedding ring was pinned to my dress. I wore one of his favorite Nebras.ka t-shirts under my graduation gown. I know we will find a way for our kids to know what a beautiful person he was. I often tell myself that he is playing with them now and will send them to us when he is ready. Maybe that sounds a little crazy, but it gives me comfort during this wait.

My wedding bouquet