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It’s still a bit impossible to believe… in the sense that I expect him to come walking into the house perfectly fine… of course that isn’t going to happen.

I was taking a nap, as I usually do, and I heard my mom and brother scream for me, and a heavy knock on my door. I found my dad collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, slumped over; nobody seemed to know what happened. I felt around his neck for a pulse, couldn’t particularly find one, but it sounded like he was breathing. I asked my mom and brother if they had called for paramedics yet, they hadn’t. I rushed upstairs grabbed my phone, called.

We rolled him over onto his back… my mom started screaming as she noticed his lips were blue. He was alive… even though he wasn’t breathing… I started CPR, to no avail… it seemed like moments later… as I had only just started that the first ambulance arrived; I suppose that’s a bonus to living so near a military base.

They started bagging him to get air into his lungs and setup the auto-defib machine, but it wouldn’t allow them to shock him, wrong rhthym I guess. Shortly afterwards they took him into the ambulance and proceeded to work on him for what seemed like at least fifteen minutes.

I phoned my brother David, probably as ill-tactfully as possible, asked him where he was, told him to get home immediately, that dad was dying.

I took my mother’s car, with David as my passenger, following my brother Matt, with our mother as his passenger. It seemed sensible to have both vehicles, in the event that one or more of us needed to stay at the hospital. Time was slowing, I have no doubts, as the short trip across town took so very long.

They took information and escorted us to the ‘family room’ where only moments later the doctor came in, and in a tone I found quite innapropriate, told us that he was dead.

I actually had a discussion with the doctor regarding the tone of his voice later on; he said “I have the worst possible news… he has died.” but in a way as to make us believe he was being sarcastic, or even comical, I was appalled.

We were allowed to go see him, cold, blue, lifeless… My only experiences with death directly have been at viewings… and while intellectually I knew what to expect, I wasn’t at all ready for what I saw. My brothers and mother were extremely visibly emotional… I suppose they’ve not had the need for armor plated emotions as I have… and likewise, out of all of us, someone needed to be calm and work with the hospital staff.

I spoke with the organ donation coordinator, and then also had a very long telephone conversation with the ‘main office’ of CORE, the Center for Organ Recovery and Education, to make sure they had all the information they needed… to help as many people as possible.

My father and I discussed his wishes many times regarding his death, about organ donation and cremation; and that I suppose he wasn’t afraid of death, that he was ready for when the time came.

The hospital called a priest, he apparently arrived while I was on the phone with CORE, the man I had been talking to said that my mother would have to sign the paperwork, but the hospital seemed to think that I could… regardless, I went with the woman who had been with us since we came in, into the room with my brothers, mother, and the priest so that my mother could sign the paperwork.

As many who know me would understand, I’m not too thrilled with the Catholic Church, but I stayed in there anyway, we said a prayer and prepared to leave. I went to see my father one more time, and the priest came with me.

We stayed up all night… My mom ended up sleeping on a chair in the living room, understandable, I wouldn’t want to go back to my bed, empty, if I had shared it with someone for the last nearly thirty years. In the afternoon today we went to the funeral home and made the majority of the arrangements. I can’t say that it was difficult, nor easy… but definitely uncomfortable, unexpected… scary.

I’ve lost my best friend, my father… after losing Davey, and though certainly a different type of loss, they are both painful. I wanted his solace lastnight, but I didn’t call him, I don’t think he would care anyway; though I did phone him this afternoon, not that I expect it would matter.

I feel more alone now than ever, I don’t know what to say or do for my family, and I fear the moment where the shell covering my feelings breaks free. I have new responsibility, great responsibility now, in that whenever I needed help my father was there for me, and likewise for the rest of the family… and now, that’s gone.