2004-12-02 - 10:07 p.m. - five days of no flurries, but everything is a blur

Sometimes an event happens that slows down the blizzard of activity that seems to blind us in this life. The flurries settle and you start to see clearly what’s really important. Then you say to yourself…”Get me the bleep out of this snow globe.”

As everything slowed down, those clear images became blurred through the tears. It started with a phone call…”you need to come home”. I flew out the next day but wasn´t going to be able to get to the States until the following day. I had a ticket, fortunately, but it was for the following Saturday. As I stood in line waiting to change it, tears fell down my cheeks. Deep down I knew I would make the flights and connections, but I was choosing to live in the fear that somehow had buried my faith.

Images….that’s all I can write about now. The plane ride with my prayer…”Dad, let your soul fly…it’s time to go home.” The arrival at the airport…I was so astonished that my sister was there to pick me up, I first asked her how she knew I was arriving given that I hadn’t called to let anyone know my flight. I went stand-by and didn’t board the plane until right before take-off…no time to call. “How’s Dad?” I finally ask. “She turned her head a bit and replied, “Well, he tried really hard…” Right then I knew, and I just cried, “NO!!!!!” I cried, and I cried, and I cried. None of us knew it would happen so fast.

I felt so bad that I hadn’t been able to say “I love you” one last time. For the first few days I was really beating myself up about it…could I have gotten home earlier somehow??? I should have tried calling the hospital! But I can’t live my life in should ofs…..I have to accept the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. My Dad’s last conscious hours were on that Sun. afternoon and he died Monday, mid-morning…just about 45 minutes after I had said my prayer to him on the plane. I’d like to think that he heard it somehow, and I do believe that he was with me the rest of my journey which was hassle-free.

Images…meeting at the funeral parlor...there’s so many decisions to be made. Scenes from “Six Feet Under” kept popping into my head. My mom and I had to pick out his clothes. It seemed so surreal…still does. I sometimes awake and think, “did that really happen?” My brother stepped into the role as man of the household and did a wonderful job contacting people and taking care of details of the arrangements. My younger sister showed maturity far beyond her years. I felt a bit lost…an observer at times. What is my role in all of this????

The outpouring of love and support from family, friends, and the community was nothing sort of amazing. The tribute to my Dad on the sports page…food being dropped off at the house….flowers…mass cards and enrollments…phone calls from friends far away (i.e. Czech Republic!) when they heard the news.

Then there was the wake of all wakes…calling hours were 4 p.m.- 8 p.m. The family arrived at three. For me, seeing my Dad in the coffin made it somehow sink in…he really was gone. I cried like I’ve never cried before. I’m so sorry, Dad… I really wanted to see you and tell you that I loved you one last time.

We opened the doors at 3:45 and received people for FIVE hours straight without stopping. Some had waited 2 hours in line to pay their last respects. I never knew how many lives my Dad had touched…to me, he was my Dad, and I’ve always known the impact he has had on me.

Family and faith - that’s what my Dad was all about. My brother said it best in the most eloquent eulogy I have ever heard, and delivered with an equal amount of eloquence. At the end as he exited the alter, he pointed to the heavens as if to say, “that was for you, Dad” and then banged his fist twice on the coffin just to make sure Dad heard. Applause broke out and there was not a dry eye in the place. My sister sang a beautiful responsorial hymn, and I played the song, “Solace” from his favorite movie, “The Sting”.

We had a police escort out to the cemetery, and every intersection was blocked off to other traffic. The coordination of it all was astonishing. My Dad was buried with military honors. A U.S. flag was draped over the coffin and was guarded by 2 Marines. Outside the cemetery chapel, three shots were fired and Taps was played. I’ve heard it many times before, but never did it sound so sad as it did on that day. The flag was folded with military precision and then presented to my mom. When the marine gave her the final salute, I don’t know how she maintained her composure - she has the inner strength of 10 marines…I know my Dad would have been so proud of her.

We saw the coffin be placed into the ground…”I bury thee, Caesar”, I thought to myself. My Dad taught some Shakespeare and would love to tell the story of the student, who while reciting that soliloquy, started miming the digging of a hole.

And now I’m back at work, thousands of miles away. The flurries have started again and I already feel buried in this blizzard of work. But I have been reminded that this is not all there is…there is something beyond this snow globe…another star now shines beyond our atmosphere and galaxy…it shines on me and tells me to keep the faith…to love my family…to treat others as I would want to be treated…and to know that he, my Dad, is in a better place, and that we will see each other again.

I love you Dad, and I’m already missing you…

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