We called him Pa
My dad & I New Years 2007
My dad passed away on December 25th, 2010, Christmas night after having a wonderful Christmas with my sister, her husband and my two nieces. He wasn't feeling well that day, as he was just recently diagnosed with Congestive heart failure stage 3. The doctors were getting ready to put in a new pacemaker in the next couple weeks.
He said that he was feeling sick that afternoon, my sister called me to ask what she should do. I asked how he was doing at that moment? She said that he seemed better, and was sitting up, color had come back into his face. My dad got on the speaker phone and we spoke, he said that he was feeling much better, and that he didn't want to go to the hospital. My brother in law agreed, that since he was feeling better he probably didn't need to go to the hospital. I said ok, but if he started to feel bad again, that he was going no matter what. I Said I Love You Dad, and He said "I love you too" and we hung up.
An Hour later he collapsed on the floor, my brother in law ran upstairs and did CPR until the paramedics got there. They pulled him back in the ambulance, and once more again at the hospital. He died at 7pm. They told my sister that they did everything they could. She called and told me during our family christmas party.
I am still devastated and in shock, I feel soo guilty for not making him go to the hospital. The doctors think that he had a stroke. I can only console myself with the possibility that it may not have been preventable even if he had been hospitalized.
I feel like the hole in my heart won't go away. I hear people tell me things like it will get better, or he's in a better place. I don't want it to go away or get better, I don't want to forget. I know it sounds selfish but I want everyone to mourn with me. It makes me so mad that life goes on like nothing happened, that people's petty problems seem like nothing compared to the loss of a loved one. I of course realize that I am going through the different stages of grief, first one than another, then back again to the same one.
I have seen him laid to rest next to my grandpa, yet, I still feel like every older gentleman with grey hair looks like him from the back. I find it hard to believe he is gone somedays. He lived 600 miles away so I didn't see him but a couple time a year, but he called me faithfully every other day, sometimes every day. I am really missing his calls. I want to call my sister or brother but I am afraid to bring them down. If they are having a good day, I don't want to ruin it by calling and telling them how sad I am.
My husband told me that I needed to let go and forgive myself and my Dad for anything while I was saying goodbye to my Dad at the funeral home. I thought I did, but I still feel guilt and regret for not making him go to the hospital. I am hoping that writing about my dad will help me take a step towards forgiving myself, and dealing with the pain of loss, because I am not having much luck on my own. God bless all of you who are also dealing with your own loss and have stumbled onto this website like I did.