Monday, September 3, 2012

It's Not Easy Being Green

I haven't worn green on St. Patrick's Day in nine years. My Dad didn't like the day, though I never knew why. Still, it was ironic that his loud and labored breathing stopped forever one morning on March 17th.

All of his girls were there- my Mom, me and my three sisters- easing him into the next life with happy stories and his favorite music. He had been moved into a hospice facility the day before and loaded up with morphine to ease the pain. He seemed to be asleep.

From the moment Dad was settled in his hospice bed someone was at his side. In fact, Mom stayed through the night, sitting by his bed and holding his hand, while the rest of us left to get some sleep. "Use my bed, Caryl," Mom told me before I left. (My husband and kids were back in Texas and the couch had been made up for me at my parent's house.)

When I was little and woke up scared, my parent's bed comforted me. They welcomed me into that safe space where I would fall asleep immediately. That night I found no solace there, rolling in my troubled sleep from Mom's spot to Dad's.

The next morning, our old family friend and honorary sister, Karen, joined us around Dad as we said a prayer. She was the first to cry that day, even though Dad was still with us, taking in these tremendous breaths of air- IN and out, IN and out....The sound of her quiet sobbing was sweet permission to quit the happy stories for a minute and CRY. I needed that.

A nurse asked us to leave so she could bathe my Dad, and though we were reluctant to go, a cup of coffee in the cafeteria didn't sound like a bad idea. We were just about seated in the metal chairs when my mother was paged.

Without a word we all knew why. Rushing back, Mom, Cathy, Nancy and Jacky paired off, linking arms. I walked alone behind our group, choosing to watch the scene from a distance. I'm not sure why. Maybe I thought if I didn't see him laying still and quiet it wouldn't be true.

But, of course, it was. Karen opened a window slightly, explaining that his spirit needed to be set free. The rest of the day is hazy, though I do remember taking the stairs down into the basement of the funeral home to help Mom pick out a casket. When I talked to my 14 year old son later about how odd it was that Dad died after we all left the room, he said, "There was nothing left to listen to."

St Patrick's Day has since been a day of private mourning for me. No elaborate rituals, just a day to remember Dad's fine life and marvel at how quickly times goes by. I forgo whatever it is you're supposed to do on St Patty's and certainly don't wear green, thank you very much.

But this year was different. My husband and I were invited to a fund raiser, requiring me to wear a cocktail dress. Looking in my closet for an appropriate black ensemble, I spotted the green dress I had bought second-hand about a year ago but never had occasion to wear. Its sequins twinkled at me and I could swear the sleeve of its matching jacket quivered in anticipation. "Wear me!" it called.

I smiled. Why not? I know Dad would want me to lighten up and have a good time. So I wore the green dress with the matching jacket and lifted a glass of green champagne to his memory. Dad always liked me in pretty colors, anyway.

17 comments:

Joe O. said...

Hi, I've never lost someone close. I can't begin to relate to what that must have been like. I did, however, lose a guide dog this past January, and while I would never compare one to the other, I experienced my first glimpse of raw emotional agony. My thoughts are with you. For whatever it's worth, I'm glad you've been able to find some peace with the date, the occasion and, by the sounds of it, yourself.

caryl said...

Lovely comment, Joe. thanks for that.

Anonymous said...

Caryl, Didn't realize you lost your Dad on St Patty's Day. I'm sure he approved of the green dress and the fund raiser. I know how you feel, one of my cousins we were more like sisters had fallen down the basement steps she had massive head injuries. They took her off life support on my 22nd Brithday, its always bittersweet for me every year.

JI

Anonymous said...

You remembered some details from that day that I had forgotten. On the first anniversary of Dad's death, I was volunteering at the hospital where he died, kind of a thank you for the great care he had gotten. I went up on the floor where he had been and was standing in the hall outside his room when a nurse asked if she could help me. I explained that it was one year ago that my husband had died in that room. She asked for his name and said "Oh I remember Mr. Meyer." It was just the right thing to say. I'm not sure if she really did remember him but she made me feel a little better. St. Patrick's Day is difficult for our family, a happy holiday for most but not for us. Caryl, I'm glad you went to that gathering and wore the green dress (I was with you when you bought it) Dad would have approved wholeheartedly. Love, Mom

Anonymous said...

It sounds like although the date will always be a sad one to remember - that a healing has occurred and you were able to do something positive for you in honor of your Dad. I understand ....

caryl said...

Thanks, everyone for the kind words.

Mom- thanks for leaving a comment. Your daughters should be more tech savvy than you are! well, Cathy usually leaves a comment but one of the other ones is afraid to (she thinks her identity will be stolen or something) and the other one refuses because she doesn't approve of blogging.

That's right- I'm shaming them into commenting. ha!

Anonymous said...

Well, I was going to comment but.... hrumph!

It was a nice story. Some details I'd forgotten; some I never will. Thanks for posting it.

caryl said...

Nan?

Mary Ann said...

I completely understand how you feel. I lost my Dad to a sudden heart attack two days after Christmas in '07. It's especially difficult when the rest of the world celebrates while your heart is hurting. But time, cherished memories and a loving family can work miracles! Glad you found your peace with wearing green.

Anonymous said...

I've always felt he waited until we left the room to spare us the memory of his last breath. Just like him to think of us until the very end. When I think of that time I usually remember 2 days earlier when his eyes were still open, holding his hand and looking into those blue eyes. That's a calming, peaceful memory for me.
Cathy

caryl said...

Yes, I think he waited for us to leave too. He must have- we were with him every minute except those 5 or 10 when we went to the cafeteria.

caryl said...

Mary Ann- Christmas must be much harder to deal with than St Patrick's Day. Sounds as though you're learning to cope, though. Thanks for the comment.

caryl said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

Today, 37 years ago, I lost my dad to cancer. I was at his side when he took that last breath. And I was only 16 years old. It is hard to move one even after 37 years. But as Mr. Meyer would want us to all move on, yet remember. Hey Caryl, I was with you when you bought the green dress... I am glad you found the right and perfect "memorial day" to wear it. Your dad is also celebrating. Love you all and thanks for sharing your thoughts with all of us. Your NE sister!

caryl said...

thanks, Ileananita! I don't think that's the most flattering pic of the dress, but that's all i got!

Shelley-Lynne Domingue said...

I love what your son said. Children are always so great in finding the wisdom.

Interesting that today I wrote a blog entry about my mom's passing and St Patrick's day figures in it for me. It is the day before my mother's birthday and a close friend of mine spent several St Patrick's Day celebration with me to balance out the next day of sadness.

It doesn't matter how old we are, it's so difficult to lose a parent.
Shelley

Anonymous said...

I have finally read your blog. It is beautiful and touching My mom seems to have waited for me to leave the room as well. Ricky and I were at Woodcliff with my grandparents when my Dad passed. I believe our parents watch over us and your Dad surely smiled at you in that dress and your memories of that day. Love your writing Caryl. Hope to see you sometime. Love to your mom and family.