February Made Me Shiver*

The phone rang at 6:30 a.m.. By the time I had realized it wasn't the alarm it had already gone to voicemail. As I listened to the message, Thatboy was already calling in and taking the day off work. What followed was the longest drive of my life.

We reached the hospital just as they were about to begin surgery and we sat huddled in the waiting room. Thatmom filled in some of the gaps that had kept us so silent on our drive up. Just as they had done every morning for as long as I can remember, Thatparents awoke at 4:30 am and headed to the gym. At some point, someone ran up and told Thatmom that her husband had collapsed. By the time she reached his machine, CPR was already being performed. The paramedics were called and were able to revive Thatdad before transporting him to the nearest hospital. Because of Thatdad's ties to the police department, his close friend and coworker Sgt. G arrived to the hospital shortly after the ambulance did, trailed closely by the wife of Thatdad's closest friend, who also worked for the police department. Thatbrother was not far behind.

Another transport was necessary. This hospital didn't have a cardiac cath lab and something was going to have to be done regarding Thatdad's heart. He was moved to another hospital where the surgeons immediately got to work. The five of us sat waiting until his doctor came out. He explained that a graft that had been previously placed in Thatdad's heart had become occluded, causing the cardiac event. He was optomistic that they had solved the problem, although there was a great deal of damage to the heart wall. He told us that as soon as Thatdad was moved over to the ICU we could all come in and see him, although he was still under heavy sedation.

The minutes turned to hours during which every "Code Blue" dropped our group into silence, and although we received frequent updates from the nursing staff, we were eventually moved into a more private room with a social worker who gained us access to Thatdad's bedside. The hours passed and eventually it became clear that we would need to say our goodbyes. By that time, Thatcousin had arrived at the hospital, as well as Thatdad's best friend and our family rabbi. We were all able to gather around the bed and be there for his last moments.

The rest of the day is a blur of phone calls. What do you say after you tell someone your father died? The conversation can't really continue at that point. Especially since it was so sudden and unexpected. During the next few days arrangements were made and people started pouring in. From across the country in all directions friends and family booked the first plane ticket they could and began making their way. One couple, who had known Thatdad since high school, flew in directly from their vacation without stopping at home first.

On Tuesday, March 24, 2009, over 400 people gathered to say goodbye. He was a friend, a mentor, a teacher, a coworker. His wonder at life and joy for all things touched everyone around him, and his humor was infectious. As we gathered to remember the man, stories were told of his love for his family and friends, his adoration of his wife, his obsession with Hawaiian shirts, and his ability to make anyone smile. As we left the service we noted that the road had been closed off and the police were called in because of the sheer number of vehicles exiting and entering the parking lot. As we watched the crowd following the pallbearers at the cemetery, the cantor noted "it's as though they were leaving Egypt" in reference to the number of people. Thatdad was larger than life. You couldn't meet him without instantly losing a bit of your heart to him. Whether it was the teller at the bank, or the person in front of him at the supermarket he had a way of making friends very quickly. And no one wanted to miss their chance to say goodbye.

I write this to explain my absence, both past and future, because I'm not really sure where this blog will go from here. Thatbrother and I have temporarily moved in with Thatmom to deal with this difficult time. There is an influx of food being delivered to the house, which means there's not much cooking going on right now, although Thatboy brought up my pasta machine so we've been doing homemade sauce and fettuchine. Italian is Thatmom's comfort food.

I apologize for my lack of comments - I've started catching up on the blogs I've missed, but am having trouble coming up with anything to say, or a desire to communicate in general. So know that I'm reading, even if I'm not the frequent commenter I once was.

I'd also like to thank many of you for the phone calls, the emails, the stopping in to check on us. I know I've thanked you each individually, but you deserve a big group hug in addition.

Thatdad (October 7, 1954-February 20, 2009)

*A long, long, time ago
I can still remember
how the music, used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
that I could make those people dance
and maybe, they'd be happy for a while.

But February made me shiver
with every paper I'd deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn't take one more step.

I can't remember if I cried
when I read about his widowed bride,
but something touched me deep inside,
the day the music died.
-Don McLean, American Pie