5 Years...

If I sit and think really hard, I might be able to remember what I did a week ago, who I talked to, what I was wearing, and how I felt. Maybe.  If  I  think really hard.  But, I will never forget what I did, who I talked to, and what I wore and how I felt on October 29, 2007.  I will never forget looking at the pink stopwatch I was wearing and seeing "11:04" as my dad took his last breath.

It has been five years.  Sometimes it seems like it's been so much longer than that and other times it feels like it was just last week.  I remember the events of that day so vividly, time has not dulled those memories.  I remember driving to the Sports Academy before 5 that morning to swim and the concern I'd felt for Dad.  I remember calling the hospital as I drove to see how his night had been.  I remember rushing through my workout and showering quickly because I felt like I needed to get to the hospital.  I remember pausing for a brief minute to talk to a gal named Susie as I got out of the pool.  I think it's odd I remember that insignificant detail.

I remember the conversations with the healthcare team and the decision being made to discontinue life-support.  I remember waiting for family to arrive.  I remember the anxiety I felt talking to Brent on the phone because he couldn't find anyone to leave the kids with at such short notice so he could come and be with me.  (Luckily his parents came through for us.)  I remember the phone calls I made and received that day.

I remember the family prayer and some of the good memories we shared as we waited.  I remember those last few minutes of agony, not wanting Dad to suffer but not wanting him to go either.  I remember holding his hand, and I can still hear the sniffles that broke the silence as the end approached.  I remember the sobs and gasps that came from those present at 11:04 a.m.

 A lot has happened over the past 60 months.   Our family has grown quite a bit.  My parents have added one grandson and seven granddaughters to their posterity.  Dad's presence has been missed at the baby blessings and the baptisms, as well as the birthday and holiday parties.

Five years is a fairly significant amount of time and I have healed well.  Although I recognize my dad's absence in my life, I no longer dwell on it.  I miss him but I don't cry much anymore, the exceptions are days like today, and visits to the cemetery usually pull tears from my eyes.  Time certainly helps the healing but it does not erase the scar.  And sometimes that scar still stings.