Growing up I revered my daddy. He was spectacular. He made me laugh, he terrified me, he taught French, to be polite, to respect adults, to appreciate fine food and drink and ohh did he teach me music. For as long as I can remember my father loved his music more than anything and he would at length to my sisters and I about it, whether we cared or not.
Then one day he felt ill and went to bed. The next day was the same. This went on for a week until as a family (without him and his stubbornness) a decision was made. My youngest sister would get someone to cover her morning classes and she would take him to the doctor - but when she arrived at my parents house she knew something wasn't right. His speech was slurred, he was acting as though he was asleep... she was worried and used her sometimes overly forceful personality to badger the doctor in to telling her that yes, she should probably take him to an Emergency Room.
It was congestive heart failure. That was Monday. On Wednesday (my mom's birthday) they did a cath and found he had 80% blockage. The left side of his heart was permanently closed. He'd likely had several heart attacks over time, and that he needed emergency bypass. The surgeon told us after speaking with him, that before he'd spoken with my dad he was not prepared to offer him a surgery. Those words hit me square in the chest like a brick of ice and lodged there.
After a very long and very risky, quadruple bypass he made it through. For the next month we walked around on eggshells, worried anything we did might be the wrong thing, Then we hit the six month mark, then the year, and in just a few days will be 18 months.
Even now, I can't think about these facts without weeping. The fact is not lost on me that his lifespan is almost certainly dramatically less than it would have been and I can't imagine my life without him. As kids we think when we grow up we won't need our parents, but I'm 34 and knowing people who don't have a good connection with their parents, I'm eternally thankful that I still do.
So here's the start of what I'm sure will be a ridiculously long list.
Thank you dad, for:
- Teaching me to parrot french phrases at you in your closet.
- Brushing my hair - even when you made me cry.
- Teaching me to love Bach, The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Rocky Horror, The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, Jazz, Motown - in short, for giving me what people have described time and time again as one of the most eclectic music tastes they've ever seen.
- Showing me the many splendors of Vermont, even if it was never your goal to inspire an itch in me to live there one day.
- Laughing with me on my wedding day.
- Cherishing mom the way she deserves.
- Listening deeply and intentionally to me even when you don't agree with me.
- Taking me on my college visits.
- Giving me the opportunity to hike on a glacier
- Always being the man I wanted more than anything to impress.
- Being a fighter and still being here with us.
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