by Captain Scot's eldest daughter
At about 8:00 PM Tuesday, April 24, 2012 I knew. The light in his living room was on, I could here the tv, but their was no answer to my knock. I told my mother to wait outside and call 911 if needed and opened the door. He was there, on the coach, frozen in time. He looked very relaxed but I knew. I walked to him feeling like I was moving through syrup. There was no pulse and I could see his color was wrong. His skin was so cold and dimpled like he was chilled. He was hard and inflexible.
I held onto his wrist for I don't know how long. It seemed the world disappeared. At some point I called my brother and sister to come. I don't remember what I said.
They came quickly. My 18 year old son, my sister and her 18 year old son. My 18 year old niece, my brother and his wife, came to sit vigil with my mother and I.
For nearly 3 hours we held his hand, hugged him, held onto him. We wept, sobbed, and laughed. We told stories, shared memories, and waited. My sister covered him because he seemed cold, my brother wept deeply, my mother had chest pains, and we all feel so broken. An officer observed, his Dr. was called, and the funeral home arrived.
They were so gentle and kind. But they took him away from us. We waited for him to sigh, laugh, and say "Don't worry kid...I'm the hero of this story." But he didn't, and he won't.
Now I can't stop crying, feeling numb, and feeling alone. I am walking through my own life without seeing, tasting or feeling.
My father, Captain Scot, was my dad but more than that he was my best friend. Now what?
I think the phone is him, the door is him, I keep thinking I should call him.