So… my Dad died. Absolutely suddenly, he died. He died in the wee hours of the morning on the longest day of the year, the Summer Solstice, June 21st, 2019. I am sure he did not mean to. It was not in his plan to abandon my sweet Mom a full days drive from anyone who knew her. When my husband woke me up that morning, earlier than usual, I looked at the clock and knew something was wrong. I was right about that, just wrong about the “what”. In my sleepy state, I thought it was the big, dumb stray cat we had been intermittently feeding. Tommy Tom Tom had been around for months, more absent than present, but, we had a thing.

He’d be on the porch and would allow us to love on him for just a bit before tiring of the affection and demanding his breakfast, or dinner, or second breakfast or just a snack. That was our deal, we would give the love, he would get the food. Simple. It worked on both sides. Anyway, Tommy Tom Tom had been appearing less and less and I started to worry about him disappearing completely. So, when I would get up, always later than my husband, it was typically the first thing would ask. “Did you see the cat?” “Was Tommy here?” So, that day, when he woke me up a full 15 minutes early (!!), I knew something was bad wrong. I asked if something had happened to that big tom cat. My husband said, “No. But, I need to tell you something. I just got off the phone with your Mom…” Well, a 5am call from your mother-in-law with a 2 hour deficit on her end could only be something bad. Real bad. He told me as kindly and as gently as he could that my Dad was gone from a probable heart attack. He was gone.

Which was truly awful. But, what seemed worse at that time, was my parents had been on the road between Wyoming and Arizona and I knew my Mom was now alone. Well, she had Diego, but what good was a tiny rescue chihuahua in a situation like this? I knew I had to get to my Mom. My phone map said I was about 15 hours by car to where they had spent the night in a hotel in Mesquite, Nevada, which is about 90 miles outside of Las Vegas.  Don’t think I didn’t consider jumping in my car & driving to her in my pajamas, because I did.  Just briefly, though.  We certainly did not need 2 cars once I got to her.  Fortunately, they make airplanes and the sweet customer service rep at Southwest Airlines was able to get me on the last available seat on the plane that was leaving by the time I could skid into the airport.  So, I showered and threw a few things in a bag and went to our office to cancel our expected work day.  I texted as many patients as I could, called the rest.  Crying and saying we needed to be closed due to a “death in the family.”  Everyone was kind and compassionate and I was reminded why we live here, in this dry west Texas town that is not lovely, but, the people most certainly are.  Cancel the patients, place a sign on the door, change the answering machine:  these are the absurd tasks you do to close unexpectedly, on the first day of summer, when your Dad dies. 

My husband offered to go with me, but there was just the one seat on the plane…and he needed to be here as his Mom was nearing the end of her journey with end-stage COPD.  He drove me to the airport while I called and texted my Mom.  There was a small circle of people who needed to know, but, most of them were not early-rising people.  My Dad’s only sister, Aunt Martha, lives in the town between my house and the airport.  I was not able to reach her with repeated calls and text messages but I had about 14 minutes of grace and we stopped by her home.  I wasn’t even sure if she was in town, but after a couple of dings on her doorbell, she did answer.  I proceeded to ruin her day and add to her grief of losing her younger daughter several years back and, then, her husband earlier this year.  It was awful.  Being the older sister, she never considered he might leave us first.  Was it a car wreck?  That would have made more sense because everyone knew Dad was a healthy, active guy.  We were all just in shock.  I could not imagine this man, who was so completely full-of-life, was no longer with us.  That is the repeating comment I heard from nearly everyone.  “He was so healthy!”  He ate right and he exercised and none of that mattered.  Except, it did.  You see, Dad always expected to die young.  His own father had died in his 50’s and, for whatever reason, you don’t expect to outlive your parents.  So, my Dad made it his mission in life to have as much fun as he could, always!  He did it all.   He rode motorcycles.  He scuba dived.  He swam, biked and ran a few triathalons.  He hiked.  He 4-wheeled. He golfed for a bit.  He life-guarded.  He taught aerobics. But, mostly, he played a cubic shit-ton of tennis, and, more recently, pickle ball.  And, these were his favorites.  From the time he retired at age 45, his main focus was playing tennis, stringing rackets and teaching others to play.  For 29 years, it was his job.  And, he loved it.  The pattern was play, eat, sleep, repeat.

Since retiring, my parents had lived where there was access to “good tennis”.  Unfortunately, this was a couple of states away from me.  There were some years I saw them only a couple of times, always around my birthday and usually near the holidays.  Sometimes there was a bonus visit in the fall, but not always.  For the last several years, I had made an annual trek to see them in January.  Just me.  It was always a great time.  Dad would drill me in tennis and brag on how nice my strokes were. 

We would work out together, play tennis and eat good food for a long weekend.  Mom & Dad would introduce me to all their friends and everyone got to tell me how awesome my parents are, which, of course, I knew well.

Between those in-person visits, we always talked and texted regularly.  Well, not regularly.  Sometimes we would be in contact 3 or 4 times in one day, then, sometimes not for 3-4 days.  Mom & I were better at talking and she would usually put me on speaker so Dad could hear our conversation.  Dad & I might go 3 or 4 weeks without talking but he would always say, “I get to hear you visiting with your Mom, so I “feel like” we have talked!”  And, usually, he would holler and “I love you” at me during those Mom calls.  What I am grateful for is that I had just gotten home from a visit to see my parents just before he died.  My sister-friend (from 48 years of knowing her) and I had traveled to Wyoming and spent a long weekend playing and hanging out with Mom & Dad.

They have considered her their “chosen” daughter for many years, especially after she lost both of her parents as a young adult.  Mom & Dad taught us how to play pickle ball and we had a great time.  We came home to our regular lives and 9 short days later my Dad died.  But, oh wow, he lived!  He lived big and on his own terms.  He lived how he wanted and where he wanted and he enjoyed every moment.  I am so grateful that he taught me a game he loved in our final days together.  It is such a perfect ending to our journey.  I am so grateful I got to have the best Dad for 50 years.  I am so grateful that he loved me and he was proud of me and told me so, many times. I am so grateful my parents had almost 53 years of a beautiful, loving marriage to teach me how couples love and respect and grow together.

I am so grateful for a million things about my Dad.  But, mostly, that he gave me my enthusiasm for life and gift of undying optimism in any situation.  He had that and I have that from his example.  Wow. What an amazing gift!  What a Dad!