It's March 5th. I knew it was March. I knew because February, the longest month of the year, had past. And I was glad.
What I didn't know was that I had forgotten a key date had past without my remembrance of it. March 1st was the 10th anniversary of my father's death. (It wasn't a passing or that he left us or was called home, it was his death.)
In the past years I remembered this time.
I remembered the call from his wife on a February evening telling me that my Father had collapsed and that the ambulance had come and brought him to the local hospital. I remember meeting her there and seeing dad lying on a table with morphine numbing the pain from what the doctor told us had been a abdominal aneurysm.
He was airlifted out to the nearest major surgical center where somehow he miraculously survived the surgery.
And I remember the surgeon informing us that long-term survival from an aneurysm is very poor but that he had hope.
The following days were filled with phone calls to and arrival of family.
We took turns visiting our father and husband.
He only seemed to regain consciousness for a couple of hours the day after the surgery. He was able to nod to us as we spoke to him and acknowledge that we were all present and concerned. He wanted to make sure that I took care of his wife.
He knew then what it would take the rest of and the doctor 2 weeks to admit.
What I realized that first day-after is at 82 you look like shit after a bodily trauma.
For those two weeks we clung to what ever hope the doctor and nurses would give, but in the end the experience had been just too much for the old man to overcome.
His organs shut down one by one until finally it came time to let him die.
And it was 10 years ago March 1st. And this is the first year I failed to notice and remember, until now.
And on the far less somber side,
Listen to Chris Smithers if you get a chance, go to Barry Crimmins web site http://www.barrycrimmins.com, and send a donation to the North East Animal Shelter.