This One's for you Pops

Twenty years ago today my life was radically altered by the loss of the most important man in my life. I was coming out of a movie theater in Eugene when I was approached by some very good family friends, embraced and told that I needed to go with them. I knew at that instant that something was really, really wrong. I would come to find out that after a day working in the yard with my mom, my dad had stretched out on the couch to catch a quick nap before taking my mom to dinner, and he never woke up. He had a massive heart attack – myocardial infarction for you fancy medical types.

To my 19 years he still seemed pretty young at the time – 49. It seems even younger now as I approach 40 at warp speed. I realize just how young he was every time I fill out a new patient form in a doctor’s office. It is one of the questions that make them stop and ask for further information. “Did you have a parent die before the age of 50?” It’s always there. Look for it next time. We always have to pause and they remind me that my genetics kind of suck. 

On the bright side, I don’t have many of the vices that he had. My dad lived large. He was a loud, boisterous, loving man who was hard to ignore. He worked hard, loved hard and played hard. He drank too much, smoked too much and had a love for McDonald’s egg mcmuffins that I just don’t have. He was overprotective because, as a wild child, he didn’t want his girls to get mixed up with characters like he had been as a kid. We knew he loved us. Sometimes (okay, often) we felt smothered; but, considering how short our time together was, I wouldn’t change a thing. Bless my mom for putting up with him. I know it wasn’t always easy.

I think a very small seed was planted on that day 20 years ago that lead me on my path to becoming a nurse. I couldn’t help my dad but maybe I can help steer other people to a healthier path. If not, maybe I can at least just be present with them in the midst of a really challenging time. My dad helped shape my life during our time together and his death continues to shape it. I love my current job. I really do. It is an honor to walk beside people during a vulnerable time even if it gets messy (literally and figuratively).

I sometimes think it was a blessing that, if my dad was going to die young, that he went so quickly. He would have been a miserable patient. Being in a hospital bed would have impeded his hunting, fishing and golf games. He probably would have been one of those patients that continuously press their call lights simply because they are bored and want to get out of the hospital. I am not sure he could have given up some of his habits even though he would have wanted to on our behalf. 

I miss him. Especially on days like today when I am reminded of how much he added to my life and how much he missed. It is startling to realize I have now lived longer without him than with him. His legacy lives on and not just in the box I check on the form when I go to the doctor’s office. His memory and his life come with me every time I enter a patient’s room and hopefully the experience has given me at least an ounce more compassion than I might have had otherwise.