“If I could catch a star for you, I swear I’d steal them all tonight. To make your every wish come true, and every dream for all your life. But that’s not how the story goes, the world is full of perfect plans. If there’s a promise that I broke, I know one day you’ll understand. When times are hard, I know you’ll be strong. I’ll be there in your heart when you’ll carry on. Like moonlight on the water, and sunlight in the sky, Fathers and Daughters never say goodbye…”
This is a blog that I never thought I would ever have to
write. It’s one that I don’t want to write. At the same time, it’s one that I
have to write. Two entries ago, I told a story of my Dad. The one titled “How
to Save a Life”. If you haven’t read that one, please read it before going on
with this one. You’ll understand more about what’s been going on with him over
the past 10 years. This part of the story will begin on December 3, 2024, and
go back as far as August 18, 1980. That’s the day I was born.
Growing up, I had a happy childhood. My Mom was a beautician
and my Dad worked in the same factory for over 40 years. My Dad also was a
preacher for over 40 years. There are certain memories that really stand out
with my Dad over the years. I remember him taking me to get my first cabbage
patch kid. I remember standing in front of the window down town, looking at
what seemed like thousands of different ones. There was one that stood out. The
one with the “isper” on it. “Isper” meaning “zipper”. This doll had a pink
jacket with a zipper on it that had the cabbage patch kids logo on it. Her name
was Mandy. I still have this doll. I also remember my Dad teaching me and a few
of the neighborhood kids how to fly a kite. Our house sat next to a big open
field, which was perfect for flying a kite. I will never forget the look on his
face as he took off running full speed in that field. About half way down the
field, his hat flew off of his head. Then, before we knew it, my dad fell. It
is still to this day something I can belly laugh about. I can see it so vividly.
There are so many stories I could tell, but I would be here all day. It's crazy
what your mind can do to you. It’s like once someone is gone, your mind is
flooded with memories you hadn’t thought of in years. Or ever. Wait. Did I say
that word? Gone? Gone. He’s gone.
I’m a PK. For those of you who aren’t one, or who don’t know
what that means, it stands for “Preacher’s Kid”. I’m a PK and I’m proud to be a
PK. Sometimes, however, that sets very high standards for things in life. My
Dad was a preacher for 41 years. He set some very high standards for me in what
I look for in other Preachers. He also set the standard very high for what I
looked for in a soul mate. One thing he didn’t have to set any standards for
was a Dad. In my mind, he was always the best one and in the words of one of my
wonderful friends, I hit the lottery with him. He wasn’t a perfect man. He had
his flaws. He made his mistakes. However, he was the best Dad in the world and
I’ll never take for granted how blessed I was, and always will be, by him.
When I was about 30 years old, my Dad told me that I would
never find a man because I am “too picky”. I responded to him with 3 simple
words. “It’s your fault.” I am so blessed to have grown up in a home where my
Mom and Dad were still married. I know that I am blessed to have done so and
that’s another thing I’ll never take for granted. I always paid attention to
them and I always wanted a relationship that was similar to theirs. My Dad
would call my Mom every single day from work on his break. My Dad not only was
a preacher, but he also worked a full time job. He worked at Stamler
Corporation for over 40 years. It’s a factory that was in Millersburg, Kentucky
that made mining equipment. I remember a
time when my Dad was working nights for a bit, and I would ride to Millersburg
with my Mom and we would take dinner to my Dad. I don’t know this to be a fact,
but I’m pretty sure she did that every single night when he was working nights.
My Mom is the best. They were best friends. Their love was so deep for each
other, and honestly, that was all I really ever wanted. I wanted a man who put
God first, a man who would be my best friend, and a man who would love me as
deeply as I loved him. That’s not a lot to ask for, right? Fast forward to age
32. I met the man of my dreams and the man I would eventually marry. My Dustin.
I remember the drive to Paris the day that he met my Dad for the first time. It
was a beautiful day in October and I had a convertible PT cruiser. We had the
top down for the drive. We got about half way to Paris, and Dustin said “I’m
really nervous to meet your Dad.” I laughed so hard at that statement. He
looked at me kind of funny and I said, “You shouldn’t be at all. You already
met my Mom. She’s the tough one. You’ll understand what I mean when you meet
him.” Of course, as is the case with most people who meet my Dad, Dustin
instantly fell in love with him. It was the start of a relationship that would become
very special to both of them. I’m so thankful for that. He loved “Dusty” like
he was his own. He often told me that I got a good one with him. I know he was
proud of the life that I had built with my own family. I know he knew that
Dusty would always take care of me.
It was no different when he met Dustin’s two girls. To him,
he loved them because I loved them. When we were younger, my Dad put a pole in
the back yard to hang a basketball goal on for us. I remember playing
basketball so many nights. We wore out the grass that surrounded it. My brother
and I played. My Dad and I played. My friends and I played. I played by myself
even. Once I left the house, the goal was pretty much unused. When my Dad met
Hannah, he knew she loved to play basketball as well. He went out and bought a
new net for the goal and had it ready to go for the next time she came to
visit. When Haylie was younger, she wanted a horse so bad. So, we told her if
she saved her money, she could buy one. We knew she would never save enough to
buy one, but she sure tried. Every time we went to my parents house, my Dad
would give her all the change he had in his pocket. After handing over his life
savings to her, he would sit in the floor with her and count all of her “coins”
with her again to see how much she had after what he had given her. Things like
that go through my mind every day.
As I’ve already mentioned, my Dad was a preacher. Not just a
preacher, but a preacher who worked hard to get to that point. When I was a
kid, my Dad had to go to other states during the summer to go to school to be
able to become a preacher. The summer I turned 9 years old, we drove to watch
him graduate. My Mom drove my brother and I. On the way, we stopped at a hotel.
Of course, I left my blanket there. My Mom called and they found it so we
planned to stay at the same hotel on the way home. They were keeping it for us
until we came back through. On the way back home, my Dad drove himself and my
Mom drove my brother and I. We met at that same hotel, but my Dad got there
first. He went to get my blanket and I’ll
never forget the feeling at 9 years old that I had when I saw my Dad
from a far and he held up my blanket in the air. To me, it was like he was an
angel sent to me from above. At that moment in time, and many other moments in
my life, it was like he was immortal. I remember thinking how great of a person
he was, just by watching the things he did for other people. He was a preacher,
who had a family, and who also worked a full time job. Somehow, he made it all
work. All the while doing all the things you would think a preacher would do. I
remember going to the hospitals in Lexington with him to visit sick people from
the church. Not only would he visit the people from the church, but he would
also visit other people who his congregation had mentioned to him who were in
the hospital sick. People he didn’t even know. He still went to the hospital to
say a prayer with them. Much later in life, Dustin’s step father was sick. One
Saturday, we had planned on going to Court Days in Mt. Sterling with my
parents. Dustin was so torn up over his step dad, my parents decided to go
visit him in Ashland instead. He was at the Hospice Center in Ashland. We went
there, and Dustin took my Dad in with him. My Dad prayed with him that day. Not
long after that, he got a little better and ended up going home. He later
passed, but we often think about the day my Dad prayed with him. These are some
of the reasons I hold high standards for preachers. I feel like my Dad kept up
with his congregation, all the while working a full time job, even extra jobs
after work, and kept up with his family. Most preachers today have one job.
That’s being a preacher. They should be able to keep up with, and know what’s
going on with their congregation.
So, I left off in my previous story about my Dad when he was at the Willows. While he was there, he was able to learn to walk with some assistance again. His left side got stronger, and he was walking more than 55 steps a day. There are some visits there that stick out for me. At the same time he was there, my brother was in the hospital some with his leg. So my Mom was trying to be in two places. There were a few times when I was the only one visiting with my Dad. Just he and I. Little did I know, how important those visits would become. Several of those visits, I would make sure I was there when he ate. Once, I was there and we talked the whole time he ate. We laughed together. I remember thinking at that moment, that I would cherish that conversation one day. I just didn't know how soon that would come. Another time, I got there a little later than dinner time. He wasn't in his room, so I went out to the dining area to make sure he wasn't still there. His table was empty. I was confused for a second, but then, I heard his voice. I turned around and he had gotten turned around trying to find his room. I pushed him to his room and I sat with him for a while. There was another time I was there and we watched part of the UK game together. He was so excited to watch this years team. He was at the Willows during Thanksgiving as well. We all went up there and sat with him as he ate his Thanksgiving turkey. We stayed for quite a while, and then we went to their house to eat our Thanksgiving turkey. At some point during this time, I remember that my Dad's roommate was really sick. He was so sick, and the staff forced him to go out for dinner and activities. At dinner one night, he didn't even eat. He just had his head laying down on the table he was sitting at. The next Wednesday, Dustin and I went to visit my Dad and he was sick. He was coughing and sneezing and didn't feel good at all. The next day, he was being released to go home. My Mom had called his primary care doctor and told them he was sick and they told her to get the Willows to test him for COVID. They hadn't even thought of that on their own, but that's a whole different story. They tested him, and it was positive. They still released him to go home. My Mom got some meds from his primary care doctor. Dustin met her at the house, and got him inside and put him in the recliner chair. The next morning, my Mom called Dustin at 5am and asked if he could come over and move him from the chair and put him in the bed. He had lost so much strength, but Dustin was able to get him in the bed. He went to work, and by the end of the day, my Mom had asked Dustin to come get him in the car for her to take him to the Emergency Room at UK. At some point, there was a blood clot that showed up on a CT and they advised her to take him in. We went over after work and got him in the car and we followed her to UK and Dustin got him out and took him inside the hospital. They ended up admitting him.
They kept him at UK for 11 days. He came home and spent one full night. The next night, he woke up in the middle of the night not breathing well. His oxygen was low. So, my Mom took him to the ER in Paris, Kentucky, which is where they live. Later on in the day, they transferred him to Clark Regional Medical Center in Winchester. He told my Mom, and the hospital in Paris, to not send him back to UK. He made the comment to me, "Let me die before you take me back to UK."
Now that my Dad is gone, I have so many things flooding through my mind. Some of them are regrets that he never thought anything about. Most of them are small things he did that just make me smile. I have thought of one day in particular every single day. Even before he passed. Sunday December 22, 2024. It was the day before they put him on the ventilator. His last day that he spoke. I didn’t go to the hospital that day. I met a friend I haven’t seen in a long time for lunch and I drove to Frankfort to bring some stuff to the office that they would need since I was off the next week. At some point that day, I received a text from my Mom that said that my Dad was asking for a banana. The nurses tried to get him one, but they were unsuccessful. I texted my Mom back and told her I would “bring him one tomorrow”. He never got that banana. Even worse, I didn’t get to talk to him one last time. Once they put the ventilator in, I had come to the conclusion that I had probably had the last conversation I’ll ever have with my Dad. This was the day that I will regret for the rest of my life.
The day before that, Saturday December 21st, my Mom wanted to go home and shower. She had been there
since Thursday with him and hadn’t left. She went home, and told him that we
would be there soon. I peeked inside his room when we got there and he looked
content. He was watching TV and he glowed when he saw us come in the room.
However, the glow soon turned to tears. On Thursday previous to this, I went to
see him after work. It was the day he was admitted. I walked into his room and
they had an oxygen mask on him. As soon as he saw me walk in the room, the
tears started streaming down his face. He cried the whole time I was there. He
kept trying to talk through the mask over his face and my Mom and I had a hard
time understanding him. At one point, he asked me something. My Mom said “We
can’t understand you.” And I said to her, “Wait. I know what he asked.” Through
his pain, and through the tears, he asked me how Dusty was doing. He always
asked me that whenever I was by myself. A while later, they took the mask off
and he was able to talk to us. During that time, he asked me to call his
sister. My Aunt Wanda. She was the only person he specifically asked me to
call. Then, right before I left the hospital that night, my Dad said something
to me that I will never forget. I was telling him bye, and through his tears he
said, “You know, I haven’t heard from the Lord since I had this last stroke.” While
it broke my entire being, I told him, “Give it some more time. He still has you
here for a reason, right? He has brought you through three difference strokes,
and you’re still here. Think about the positive.” He nodded his head to me. At
that moment, I knew that he knew, that his life on earth was close to the end.
Fast forward back to Saturday. Let me just say, I have never seen my Dad cry as much as he did this day. Even if you were to add up all the times in my life that I saw him cry, it wouldn’t have equaled to this. We had Haylie with us as well. My Dad kept reaching his hand out for one of us to hold it. When we did, he cried even harder. I kept rubbing his arm and telling him not to cry. It was breaking my entire soul. Probably because deep down, I knew what he knew. After we had been there for about an hour or so, I was holding his hand and I asked him if he wanted Dustin to pray with him. Again, this goes back to my question. If the shepherd is sick, who cares for him? In this case, the answer is now so simple to me. It’s my husband. My Dad nodded his head and said “YES!” through his tears. Dustin prayed for him. As he prayed, Haylie and I both bowed our heads and prayed with him as we laid our hands on my Dad. Once the prayer was over, the tears subsided. Dustin had to leave the room for a few minutes after that, but my Dad seemed content for the first time since we had been there. We were there with him for a little over 4 hours. We found a western channel on the TV for him and he and I watched an episode of “The Long Riders”. It had been forever since I had seen that show. My Dad and I always watched Westerns together. If a new movie came out, I made sure I asked him if he wanted to go see it. We always did. We made a date night out of it. I did my best to encourage him as much as possible in those 4 hours I was with him. I fed him his mashed potatoes they brought for dinner as well as a pudding cup. The nurse was finally able to get him a Diet Pepsi with the thickener in it. That made him so happy. He asked me again if I had called my Aunt Wanda. I told him I forgot, but I would be sure and call her. Before we left, I hugged him and told him I loved him and I would be back in a few days. Little did I know, that was the last conversation I would ever have with my father.
I was off the whole next week since it was Christmas week. On Monday December 23rd, Dustin woke me up to news I did not want to hear. They had to put in a ventilator. Thus, the reason he didn’t get his banana. This is always a worry when you hear they have to do that to someone that’s sick and elderly. There is that constant fear that they won’t be able to breathe on their own ever again. I hated that feeling. But mostly, I hated that my Mom was left by herself making that decision. On our way to the hospital, I called my Aunt Wanda. One of the hardest things to do, is keep yourself together when you are trying to tell someone else in the family how sick someone is. I talked to my Aunt Wanda and I told her what was going on with my Dad. I told her it was serious and that we didn't know what is going to happen at this point. We hung up and went on to the hospital. I'll never forget the look on my Mom's face that day. I'll also never forget the feeling in my gut when I saw my Dad hooked up to a vent. It's still there. The feeling in my gut. I don't know if it will ever leave.
On the morning of Thursday December 26th, Dustin woke me up before he went to work. A few minutes after he left, I got a text from someone at work that woke me up since I wasn't all the way back to sleep. Then, almost immediately after, Dustin called me. I answered and I'll never forget what he said. "You need to get dressed and get to the hospital NOW." I got out of bed and decided to take a quick shower. I received a text from my brother and he asked if I could come pick him up. I showered and drove to Paris and I only wasted one hour doing all of that. I picked up my brother and we drove to Winchester to the hospital. When we got there, they had taken my Dad for a procedure. Basically, they saved my Dad's life that day before my brother and I arrived. My heart was a wreck that day. We were sitting in the hospital room waiting for my Dad to return to the room and I looked up and saw Dustin. It was the most comfort I had felt all day. He left work to come there to be with his family and it meant the world to me. I needed him that day. He knew it and he came. My Dad finally came back and things were calm the rest of the day.
The next few days were long. They started kidney dialysis on my Dad and it took several hours a day. As each day passed, I could see it in my Mom's eyes that she knew he wasn't getting any better. On Sunday morning, my Mom asked me to take my brother to the ER. He's been having an issue with an open wound on his leg and it was getting infected. I got ready and drove to Paris to get him and take him to the ER. The weather was awful that day. It was raining and very windy. We sat at the ER for a few hours and then I took him to get his medicine and some food. I took him home, and then headed to the hospital to see my Dad for a bit. At some point during that day, I heard a NKOTB song that spoke to me. It's strange that a NKOTB song spoke to me, but the chorus just hit home. I remember driving home from the hospital that night crying as I sang the chorus.
"And every night and every day, I talk to God and Oh I pray that He, Will bring you back to me. Come back, you been gone too long, and it won't be long, He said He'd bring you back to me. Come back, you been gone too long, said it won't be long, til you're back where you belong. With me."
That began my prayer for God to bring him back. Even if it was for just one more time. Even if it was just for him to look at me with his baby blues and smile at me one more time. My Dad never liked to tell me "NO." and so this began my prayer. He was a fighter and selfishly I wanted him back. I knew he didn't like to tell me "NO", so he would have to come back to me. He just had to.
The next day, I went to work. It was now Monday December 30th. I had a fairly good day at work considering my heart was completely somewhere else. Right around 4pm, I had a breakdown. It was like I just knew what was going to happen next. My work family was great. I received some hugs that day that I will never forget. Hugs that lasted longer than a normal hug. Hugs that allowed me to cry on their shoulder. I had planned to go to the hospital right after work so that's why I was so emotional. I left work and drove to Winchester. I got there and they were doing dialysis so we had to sit in the waiting room for a bit. I tried to remain strong for my mom, but I could tell when I got there that she was down. I could see it in her eyes. I wondered if this was why I had the breakdown. It's this gift of discernment that I have. After we went to his room, my Mom began to cry as she tried to get the words out. "He's not gonna make it Sissy." I knew it. I knew it all along. I fought back the tears. But they came anyway.
The next day was New Years Eve. I didn't have to work. My brother texted and asked if I could bring him a pizza. I drove him a pizza to Paris and then I was on my way to the hospital again. My Mom had been at the hospital since the Saturday before Christmas without leaving. I had taken her clothes home and washed them and I make sure she had some snacks so she would have something on her stomach. So, I decided to stop at Captain D's and get her and I a salmon meal. I did that and we ate together in the room. I sat with her for a while and she assured me she would finish her meal that night before she went to bed. I wanted to get home before dark since it was New Years Eve. As I was getting my jacket on to leave, the Doctor came in. He was a great person. Very good bedside manner. He talked to both of us and he basically said they have done all that they can for him. In the conversation, I asked him, "If it was your spouse or your dad, would you take him off the ventilator?" and he answered me honestly. "Yes." He left the room and my Mom and I talked. She didn't want them to do it on New Year's Day, so her plan was for them to take my Dad off the vent on Thursday January 2nd. The drive home that night was very emotional for me. I played the song "Hard Fought Hallelujah" by Brandon Lake on repeat the whole way home. I cried my eyes out. At two different spots, I screamed. At the top of my lungs. As loud as I could. I screamed.
"Yeah, I don't always feel it. Yeah, but that's when I need it the most. So, I'ma keep on singing. 'Til my soul catches up with my song. There's times when my hands go up freely, and times that it costs, oh oh. There's days when a praise comes out easy, days when it takes all the strength I got. I'll bring my hard fought, heartfelt, been through hell, hallelujah. I'll bring my storm tossed, torn sail, story to tell, hallelujah. God You've been patient, God You've been gracious, faithful whatever I'm feeling or facing. So I'll bring my hard fought, heartfelt, it is well, hallelujah. I've wrestled with the darkness, but I'm trying to reach for the light. Yeah the struggle keeps me honest, and it breaks down the walls of my pride. 'Cause faith isn't proven like gold, 'Til it's been through the fire, eh eh. My head, heart, and hands are feeling heavy, but that's when I lift them just a little higher."
I got home that night and basically collapsed in Dustin's arms. After I calmed down, we ate appetizers. I always fix those on New Years Eve because my Mom used to do that. There was a movie I had been wanting to see, so we watched it. Just to occupy my mind with anything else. It was called Juror #2. I'll always remember the night I watched that movie. At some point, I looked over next to our Christmas tree and saw the gifts that were still sitting under it. It was a gift for my Mom, a gift for my brother, and a gift for my Dad. We hadn't done Christmas yet. Suddenly, I remembered what I had got for my Dad. When he was at the Willows, we asked him several times what he wanted for Christmas. He was pretty down during that time, but the last time we asked him, he gave us an answer. He said "A payday candy bar." So, I went to Sam's Club and I bought him a whole box of Payday candy bars. There were 24 in a pack. At that moment, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with them. I also got him a really soft Cincinnati Bengals sweatshirt. As I sat there opening up the Christmas present I bought for my Dad that he would never get, my heart broke into two pieces. I decided to wear the Bengals sweatshirt the day that we took him off the vent. Which at the time, I thought would be on January 2nd.
The next morning, Dustin woke me up. My Mom had called him. She didn't want to wait another day. His numbers were getting worse and she didn't think it was good to make him suffer through another day. I got ready, I put on the Bengals sweatshirt, and grabbed the box of Payday's as we headed out the door to the hospital. We made a stop when we got to Winchester at Speedway. My Dad's favorite drink was always Ale-8. It was our thing when I was a teenager. So, we got two 6 packs of Ale-8 to take with us. My plan, was for all of us to have a Payday and an Ale-8 together in the room before we took him off the vent. We got there and met my brother outside. The three of us got to the room with my Mom and we sat there for a bit. As we sat there, Dustin told me that a friend of mine had texted him and said she was in the waiting room and would be there if I needed her. I immediately went out to get her. I have known Alison since I was about 16 years old. Her and her family had been a big part of my life ever since. When I got to where she was, she had an Ale-8 shirt on. She wore it for my Dad. She didn't even know my plan. Having her there gave me a peace that I didn't know I needed. When we got to the room, I handed her an Ale-8 and a Payday. We all ate our candy bar and drank our Ale-8. I also shared with the nurses and doctors. We couldn't have asked for a better staff to take care of my Dad.
We waited for a while because some of our family was coming in from Ohio. We just spent time in the room with him, telling stories. Smiling. Laughing. Crying. At one point, Dustin wanted to call his Mom. My brother wanted to go outside and smoke. So they left together to go out. I got up, shut the door to my Dad's room, and walked over to have my last talk with him. I got my phone out and I cued up the song that he and I danced to at my wedding. A song called "Fathers and Daughters" by Michael Bolton. I let it play for a minute as I held his hand and rubbed his forehead. During the song, I reminded him of our dance to this song. I told him that he and I will never say goodbye to each other. I told him how much I loved him. I told him I'll always be his little girl. I told him not to worry about my Mom, that we will take care of her. I told him that I know he doesn't like to tell me "No", and while I want him here with me, I understand that he has to go. I told him he could stop fighting. After the rest of our family got there, we told them we were ready. They removed him from the vent, and called us back in to the room. I held one hand, and my Mom held the other until he was gone. I kept assuring him that he could stop fighting. I rubbed his forehead and pinched his chin. I smiled at him. Inside I was crumbling. You know those survey's you fill out and the question is Have you ever watched someone die? I can answer that one with a yes now.
Dustin had everyone leave the hospital room except for my mom, my brother and me. The three of us sat there for about 15 minutes with my Dad. We talked about him. We talked about our life. We talked about how he is no longer suffering. Then, we went to the waiting room where our family and friends were. Eventually, we left. We all went to eat together. After we ate, I got really hot. Then, my heart started racing. I had heart palpitations as well. I checked my heart rate and it had went up to almost 150. I started doing some deep breaths and trying to calm down. I got it down to around 120 before we walked outside. We told everyone bye and I walked my Mom to her car. Dustin went on and got in our car. I told my Mom that I would pick her up the next day and take her to deal with the cremation. She didn't argue. I hugged her and I let loose. I cried harder than I had cried in a long time. It was cold outside, but she never complained. I told her that I was sorry and I had tried to stay strong for her. She told me I never have to do that with her. I remember through my tears saying to her, "He loved me so much." and "It feels like my heart is in two pieces." She just held me and cried with me. She's the strongest woman I know. I hope I can be as strong as she is some day.
"But God will redeem my life from the grave; He will surely take me to Himself." Psalm 49:15
On January 1, 2025 at 2:30pm, my Dad went home to be with Jesus. Hey Dad, save a place for me. I'll be home soon.
Stay tuned for Part 2-The Aftermath.
