The Last Few Days with Dad
Tuesday, January 29, 2019
At 3:30pm, Dad arrived at a house in Highlands Ranch to do a rekeying job. According to the homeowner (whom I spoke with the next day), he arrived on time, took about 15 mins to look around and check the 5 locks he needed to rekey, and left. The homeowner assumed he was going back to his workshop to do what he needed to do.
At approximately 4:40pm, Dad arrived home and Mom realized something wasn’t right. The back of his pants were wet and he’s acting strange, having had no memory of where he was or why his pants were so wet, or how he got home. Mom called me to tell me Dad was acting weird, and I sent Whit over to check on him as I got the kids ready for dinner and Audrey’s music class. I am a little scared but hope everything is fine. Whit immediately realized something wasn’t right and after much convincing (and a bloody nose and vomiting), convinced Dad that he needed to go to the hospital ASAP. Dad puts on his shoes and gets in the car by himself.
At the ER at SkyRidge Medical Center, they are seen immediately. Initially they thought he must have had a stroke and talk about flying him to Swedish Medical Center. But after further cat scans, they realize he has massive internal bleeding and 2 scull fractures at the back and base of his head. It appears to be blunt force trauma to his head.
10:00pm - After some discussion, the trauma team decides to operate on him to drain the blood and relieve the pressure in his skull. A quick 1.5 hour surgery. While in recovery and waiting to go see him, Whit comes home at around 1:00 am so I can go be with my mom while we wait to go see him. The nurses let us back there. He is bandaged up and has a ventilator. The night nurse, Laura, tells us this is to help him heal so his body doesn’t have to work so much. We decide to go home and return the next morning. I drop Mom off at her house and go home to get a little rest.
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
9:00am - Mom and I meet at the ICU after I drop off kids at school. We arrive and he is stable but still on the ventilator. The nurse, Lori, tells us they took him off sedation so he can wake up on his own this morning and hopefully be able to take the ventilator out once he’s breathing on his own. His morning cat scan shows he is still bleeding in his brain so that is of some concern. Mom and I stay with him, Whit joins us later that afternoon. We are all hopeful that he will recover fully just fine, and talk to him to get him to wake up. I check Dad’s phone and see a message from the homeowner where he was last seen. From what I understand after speaking with the homeowner, we believe Dad slipped on ice that was on his front porch and hit his head. He may have passed out for a bit, regained consciousness and was somehow able to drive himself home. I am angry at the homeowner for not clearing the ice before my dad arrived, but also saddened to know this was a completely avoidable accident that did not need to happen. I’m confused and upset, but try to stay focused on being there for Dad as he heals. Initially the doctors thought the amount of force that caused this kind of injury couldn’t have happened from a fall, and they kind of eluded to the fact that it could have been an attack. This scared the crap out of me, so I was a bit relieved to know it wasn’t an attack. But still saddened that it happened at all.
By afternoon, he still hasn’t woken up and seems very agitated, so the nurse puts him back on sedation to help the swelling in his brain, and to help him heal. He is reacting to pain and his pupils are reacting ever so slightly to light, which are all good signs. Whit leaves to get kids and get them ready for after school activities. Mom and I stay til dinner time, then leave and agree to meet back at the ICU in the morning. We continue to urge Dad to keep fighting and that we’ll see him in the morning. Kids are worried about him and keep asking to see him. We don’t give them too much detail, but just let them know he is really hurt and in the hospital, and everyone is doing the best they can to help him get better.
Thursday, January 31, 2019
9:00am - Mom and I meet at the ICU again. No change overnight. He is still heavily sedated and there is still bleeding. The neurosurgeon that operated on Dad, Dr. Boyer, tells us that they will need to do an angiogram in order to see what is going on in his brain. There is definite pressure build up on the other side of his brain from where they drained the blood, but further surgery could make things worse and will not make things better. So we decide no more surgery, just wait and hope Dad’s body figures out how to heal on its own. We all just wait and pass the time. We get visitors from my parent’s church. Approximately 3:00pm, we get another call from Dr. Boyer, Whit speaks to him and as another nurse, Yoon (she’s Korean) puts in a picc line, we need to step out to the waiting room. Whit delivers the worst news imaginable. There is nothing we can do, and Dad will not wake up from this. The damage to his brain is too extensive and even if he wakes up, he will be in a vegetative state. Mom and I realize this is it. We lean on each other as we accept the devastating news. We decide we need to tell the kids and let them have a chance to say goodbye to him before we remove the ventilator. Rhys has a big, important day at school on Friday, so we decide to wait til after school, and then we will do it after the kids say their goodbyes. Mom has to decide on whether or not to let the nursing staff resuscitate him should his heart stop beating. She decides on a DNR, which I agree that’s what Dad would want. She makes calls to her church friends and the priest in hopes he can come say Dad’s last rights before he goes. The priest is out of town but is able to return a day early and tells Mom he will be there Friday morning at 10:00am. It is an extremely emotionally heavy time as we prepare for the end. We go home around dinner time, and I don’t want my mom to be alone. But she insists she is okay, so we part ways and agree to meet back at the ICU in the morning.
At about 10:30pm, we get a call from the overnight nurse, Laura, saying Dad’s heart is in A Fib, and his heart rate is jumping around quite a bit. She’s given him meds to help calm it down and doesn’t think we need to be there but just wanted us to know. We go to bed, and make sure Whit’s phone is on so we can hear it if we get any calls from the ICU.
Friday, February 1, 2019
At about 2:15 am we get a call from Laura again, saying his heart rate is still all over the place, and that it might be a good idea to come down to the ICU just in case, and be there with him. I call Mom right away and go pick her up from her house and then head over to SkyRidge. Oddly, I was awake when the phone rang, unable to sleep. We get to the ICU and Dad’s heart rate has settled down. Mom calls the priest to ask if he can come ASAP, since it’s unknown if Dad will make it til 10:00am. She wants to make sure he’s been read his last rights before he passes, it’s very important to her that this is done properly. No one can get ahold of the priest and he is not answering the door. There is a visiting Missionary, Maria, who is staying with one of the priest’s helpers/assistants, and the two of them rush over to the hospital, arriving before the sun came up. She helps lead us in prayers, and provides some comfort to Mom as we wait for the priest to arrive. The helper is ordered to go and do everything possible to wake the priest and get him to the hospital as soon as possible.
At about 7:00am, the priest and several church people arrive to say Dad’s last rights. Another very emotional time, as we say farewell and allow Dad’s spirit to leave his physical body and go to be with God. There is some relief for Mom after this is done. Dad’s heart rate calms down and we are all at ease. Now we just wait for the kids to get out of school, and hope Dad hangs on so they can say their goodbyes. The nurses and doctors check on him, and he is unreactive to pain and his pupils are no longer reacting at all. Dr. Boyer stops by and tells me that normally a fall like that, they wouldn’t have operated knowing there was little chance of survival, especially someone Dad’s age. But the fact that Dad was strong enough to walk himself into the ER and was still coherent made him realize he needed to give Dad a fighting chance. He was obviously very strong to make it this far. I appreciated these words from Dr. Boyer, and he gave me a big hug.
At about 3:20pm, Whit leaves to go get the kids from school, and has the difficult job of telling them what’s really going on. He reports that they both burst into tears and had many questions, and my dear sweet Audrey said “What about Halmoni, she will be so lonely with him.” They make it to the ICU and it’s hard for all of us. Audrey doesn’t have much to say, but Rhys wants to say some goodbyes in private, so we give him a little time. Then Audrey goes back, and bursts into very loud tears, which has the whole ICU emotional. After they both cry for some time, they manage to hold Dad’s hand and say I love you and Goodbye to Dad. We all try to stay strong for them. They eventually leave while Mom and I wait for the team to remove Dad’s ventilator. We’re told it could happen right away in just minutes, or it could go on for a while, it’s really unknown. There is another urgent trauma that comes in around that time so we wait for someone to become available. Mom and I sit with Dad and hold his hand and wait. It’s all still very surreal for me, like a really bad dream that I’ll hopefully wake up from at any minute. Whit takes the kids down to the dining hall to get some dinner and they want to see him one last time. So we let them come and visit for a little while longer. It’s getting late so we tell them they should go home and wait. The kids want to spend the night with Halmoni tonight, so they get ready.
Finally, a little after 8:00pm, another nurse comes in to tell us they’re waiting on the respiratory team to come to remove his ventilator, they just need to send in the orders.
At approximately 8:30pm, Dad’s ventilator is removed and Mom and I sit on either side of him, holding his hand, and wait. His heart rate remains strong and steady, at 100 bpm, his breathing looks good, and he looks like he’s just taking a nap. However, his oxygen levels are very low, immediately going below 40, and staying there.
At about 9:15 – 9:30pm, Mom decides she wants to leave. She’s said her goodbyes, and she is tired and wants to go home. So Whit and the kids pick her up and head over to her house for the night, and Whit returns to be with me and Dad. Dad hangs on and continues with no change. Completely exhausted from being up since 2:00am, I fall asleep while holding Dad’s hand.
At about 11:10pm, I wake up, and notice Dad’s stats are starting to drop. His heart is still beating but very slight and starting to slow. His oxygen is lower and he appears to no longer be breathing. I wake Whit, who also fell asleep, and we wait as we realize this is the end. His heart rate continues to drop slowly and oxygen levels soon reach 0. Dad passed away at 11:22pm on February 1, 2019. I still can’t believe this is real.
Saturday, February 2, 2019
I received a call from an organ donation organization, informing me that altho Dad was too old to donate his internal organs (I do believe his heart had another 50 years on it!), he is eligible for skin donation. I know Dad would have wanted to help however he could, and with Mom's permission, we allow the donation ppl to harvest Dad's skin. I'm a little nervous as they are in Denver, which means they need to transport Dad from the hospital to the donation place, and then back to the funeral home to prepare his body for embalming, but everything goes smoothly. The ppl at the donation place are wonderful and kind and very sympathetic.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
We all go with Mom to church, as they hold a special prayer service before mass for Dad. There are a lot of ppl there. The kids do amazingly well for the entire 2 hours of mass and prayer. It’s hard to see my mom in all black, dressed as a newly widowed woman.
Monday, February 4, 2019
Mom and Dad’s friends from California, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon, and Mr. and Mrs. Lee, fly out to be there for the funeral. It is very nice of them to make this last minute trip and we are all grateful.
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
The day of Dad’s funeral. This was a really difficult day in so many ways. After some persuasion by her friends, she decides on an open casket and viewing. It’s really hard to see Dad that way, it just doesn’t look like him. The people from the funeral home help us a lot and everything goes well overall. Again, the kids behave amazingly well. Many people show up, which was a nice surprise. Everyone is saddened and shocked by the news, as are we. Mr. Kwon gives a lovely eulogy, and I give a tearful one. It is very difficult and I’m not sure anyone even understood what I said, but they were my words for my Dad, so it doesn’t really matter. After the funeral, we invite everyone to a nice lunch at a Chinese buffet restaurant that they frequent often. Then we all head home and find ourselves taking much needed naps. That evening, Mr. Kwon treats us all to dinner at Sweet Tomatoes. It’s weird to not have my Dad there for something he should’ve been at, and it’s a bit difficult, but it’s nice to have their friends with us.
Wednesday, February 6, 2019 – Sunday, February 10, 2019
As the rest of Mom’s friends leave, Mrs. Kwon stays with Mom for another week. We are grateful for her company during this terribly difficult time for Mom. I’m glad she isn’t alone. I finally go back to work on Thursday, which I look forward to, to help me take my mind off things. The funeral home lets me know that Dad was cremated on Thursday and his remains are ready to be picked up on Friday. I drop them off at Mom’s house. The kids love hanging out with Mrs. Kwon and they spend some time with Mom and Mrs. Kwon, who take them to the pool on Saturday, while Whit takes care of getting someone to fix Mom’s water heater. We all stay for dinner that evening. It just doesn’t feel right without Dad there, but having Mrs. Kwon to distract us helps a lot. On Sunday, Mrs. Kwon wants to take us to dinner, so we go to Sushirama for some sushi conveyor belt fun. Again, just feels like something, or someone, is missing.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Mrs. Kwon leaves. And now we have to figure out how to continue living our normal lives, but without Dad in it. I worry a lot about Mom. But we have enough errands to do to keep us busy for now. There is much to be done, but at least we can take our time doing these last things. We need to decide where/how she will live, and realize the best thing will be to have her move in with us, even tho she is perfectly capable of living on her own. It would just be a much bigger comfort for us all. So as we prepare for the future, we are constantly thinking of Dad and missing him immensely.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
We had a private burial ceremony for Dad’s remains at 10:30am at the Cremation Gardens next to Horan and McConaty on County Line and Holly, with just Mom, me and Whit. The priest came to do his blessing. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny February day, and the view of the Rockies was just beautiful. Dad would be very happy with his final resting place, with a front row view of South Suburban Golf Course and the Rocky Mountains behind it. I love that it’s a beautiful site as well as so close to our house, so we can visit anytime we want. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted now that all these formalities are done, and he is safely where he needs to be. It still feels unreal and unfair, and I’m saddened and angry that he had to leave us so soon. His death really put life into perspective for me. I wish I could’ve said all the things I said to him at the hospital, to him while he was still alive. But it’s a great lesson for all of us to not take life and time for granted, especially with those we love, young and old. You just never know what the future holds for any of us. For someone like Dad, so strong and youthful for his 80 years, so sharp in his mind, so carefree and full of gratitude for the life he had worked so hard to build, we never expected it to come to such an abrupt halt. He taught me many lessons just by leading by example. So many traits I have from him that I never really noticed til now, and so many I see in my own kids who were lucky to have him for as long as they did, even tho I desperately wish they had more time with him. I know this journey will continue to be difficult, and remind myself and the kids that it’s okay to be sad and cry when we miss him, but we need to be strong and be happy cuz that’s what Dad would want. More than anything, to just be grateful and happy.
At 3:30pm, Dad arrived at a house in Highlands Ranch to do a rekeying job. According to the homeowner (whom I spoke with the next day), he arrived on time, took about 15 mins to look around and check the 5 locks he needed to rekey, and left. The homeowner assumed he was going back to his workshop to do what he needed to do.
At approximately 4:40pm, Dad arrived home and Mom realized something wasn’t right. The back of his pants were wet and he’s acting strange, having had no memory of where he was or why his pants were so wet, or how he got home. Mom called me to tell me Dad was acting weird, and I sent Whit over to check on him as I got the kids ready for dinner and Audrey’s music class. I am a little scared but hope everything is fine. Whit immediately realized something wasn’t right and after much convincing (and a bloody nose and vomiting), convinced Dad that he needed to go to the hospital ASAP. Dad puts on his shoes and gets in the car by himself.
At the ER at SkyRidge Medical Center, they are seen immediately. Initially they thought he must have had a stroke and talk about flying him to Swedish Medical Center. But after further cat scans, they realize he has massive internal bleeding and 2 scull fractures at the back and base of his head. It appears to be blunt force trauma to his head.
10:00pm - After some discussion, the trauma team decides to operate on him to drain the blood and relieve the pressure in his skull. A quick 1.5 hour surgery. While in recovery and waiting to go see him, Whit comes home at around 1:00 am so I can go be with my mom while we wait to go see him. The nurses let us back there. He is bandaged up and has a ventilator. The night nurse, Laura, tells us this is to help him heal so his body doesn’t have to work so much. We decide to go home and return the next morning. I drop Mom off at her house and go home to get a little rest.
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
9:00am - Mom and I meet at the ICU after I drop off kids at school. We arrive and he is stable but still on the ventilator. The nurse, Lori, tells us they took him off sedation so he can wake up on his own this morning and hopefully be able to take the ventilator out once he’s breathing on his own. His morning cat scan shows he is still bleeding in his brain so that is of some concern. Mom and I stay with him, Whit joins us later that afternoon. We are all hopeful that he will recover fully just fine, and talk to him to get him to wake up. I check Dad’s phone and see a message from the homeowner where he was last seen. From what I understand after speaking with the homeowner, we believe Dad slipped on ice that was on his front porch and hit his head. He may have passed out for a bit, regained consciousness and was somehow able to drive himself home. I am angry at the homeowner for not clearing the ice before my dad arrived, but also saddened to know this was a completely avoidable accident that did not need to happen. I’m confused and upset, but try to stay focused on being there for Dad as he heals. Initially the doctors thought the amount of force that caused this kind of injury couldn’t have happened from a fall, and they kind of eluded to the fact that it could have been an attack. This scared the crap out of me, so I was a bit relieved to know it wasn’t an attack. But still saddened that it happened at all.
By afternoon, he still hasn’t woken up and seems very agitated, so the nurse puts him back on sedation to help the swelling in his brain, and to help him heal. He is reacting to pain and his pupils are reacting ever so slightly to light, which are all good signs. Whit leaves to get kids and get them ready for after school activities. Mom and I stay til dinner time, then leave and agree to meet back at the ICU in the morning. We continue to urge Dad to keep fighting and that we’ll see him in the morning. Kids are worried about him and keep asking to see him. We don’t give them too much detail, but just let them know he is really hurt and in the hospital, and everyone is doing the best they can to help him get better.
Thursday, January 31, 2019
9:00am - Mom and I meet at the ICU again. No change overnight. He is still heavily sedated and there is still bleeding. The neurosurgeon that operated on Dad, Dr. Boyer, tells us that they will need to do an angiogram in order to see what is going on in his brain. There is definite pressure build up on the other side of his brain from where they drained the blood, but further surgery could make things worse and will not make things better. So we decide no more surgery, just wait and hope Dad’s body figures out how to heal on its own. We all just wait and pass the time. We get visitors from my parent’s church. Approximately 3:00pm, we get another call from Dr. Boyer, Whit speaks to him and as another nurse, Yoon (she’s Korean) puts in a picc line, we need to step out to the waiting room. Whit delivers the worst news imaginable. There is nothing we can do, and Dad will not wake up from this. The damage to his brain is too extensive and even if he wakes up, he will be in a vegetative state. Mom and I realize this is it. We lean on each other as we accept the devastating news. We decide we need to tell the kids and let them have a chance to say goodbye to him before we remove the ventilator. Rhys has a big, important day at school on Friday, so we decide to wait til after school, and then we will do it after the kids say their goodbyes. Mom has to decide on whether or not to let the nursing staff resuscitate him should his heart stop beating. She decides on a DNR, which I agree that’s what Dad would want. She makes calls to her church friends and the priest in hopes he can come say Dad’s last rights before he goes. The priest is out of town but is able to return a day early and tells Mom he will be there Friday morning at 10:00am. It is an extremely emotionally heavy time as we prepare for the end. We go home around dinner time, and I don’t want my mom to be alone. But she insists she is okay, so we part ways and agree to meet back at the ICU in the morning.
At about 10:30pm, we get a call from the overnight nurse, Laura, saying Dad’s heart is in A Fib, and his heart rate is jumping around quite a bit. She’s given him meds to help calm it down and doesn’t think we need to be there but just wanted us to know. We go to bed, and make sure Whit’s phone is on so we can hear it if we get any calls from the ICU.
Friday, February 1, 2019
At about 2:15 am we get a call from Laura again, saying his heart rate is still all over the place, and that it might be a good idea to come down to the ICU just in case, and be there with him. I call Mom right away and go pick her up from her house and then head over to SkyRidge. Oddly, I was awake when the phone rang, unable to sleep. We get to the ICU and Dad’s heart rate has settled down. Mom calls the priest to ask if he can come ASAP, since it’s unknown if Dad will make it til 10:00am. She wants to make sure he’s been read his last rights before he passes, it’s very important to her that this is done properly. No one can get ahold of the priest and he is not answering the door. There is a visiting Missionary, Maria, who is staying with one of the priest’s helpers/assistants, and the two of them rush over to the hospital, arriving before the sun came up. She helps lead us in prayers, and provides some comfort to Mom as we wait for the priest to arrive. The helper is ordered to go and do everything possible to wake the priest and get him to the hospital as soon as possible.
At about 7:00am, the priest and several church people arrive to say Dad’s last rights. Another very emotional time, as we say farewell and allow Dad’s spirit to leave his physical body and go to be with God. There is some relief for Mom after this is done. Dad’s heart rate calms down and we are all at ease. Now we just wait for the kids to get out of school, and hope Dad hangs on so they can say their goodbyes. The nurses and doctors check on him, and he is unreactive to pain and his pupils are no longer reacting at all. Dr. Boyer stops by and tells me that normally a fall like that, they wouldn’t have operated knowing there was little chance of survival, especially someone Dad’s age. But the fact that Dad was strong enough to walk himself into the ER and was still coherent made him realize he needed to give Dad a fighting chance. He was obviously very strong to make it this far. I appreciated these words from Dr. Boyer, and he gave me a big hug.
At about 3:20pm, Whit leaves to go get the kids from school, and has the difficult job of telling them what’s really going on. He reports that they both burst into tears and had many questions, and my dear sweet Audrey said “What about Halmoni, she will be so lonely with him.” They make it to the ICU and it’s hard for all of us. Audrey doesn’t have much to say, but Rhys wants to say some goodbyes in private, so we give him a little time. Then Audrey goes back, and bursts into very loud tears, which has the whole ICU emotional. After they both cry for some time, they manage to hold Dad’s hand and say I love you and Goodbye to Dad. We all try to stay strong for them. They eventually leave while Mom and I wait for the team to remove Dad’s ventilator. We’re told it could happen right away in just minutes, or it could go on for a while, it’s really unknown. There is another urgent trauma that comes in around that time so we wait for someone to become available. Mom and I sit with Dad and hold his hand and wait. It’s all still very surreal for me, like a really bad dream that I’ll hopefully wake up from at any minute. Whit takes the kids down to the dining hall to get some dinner and they want to see him one last time. So we let them come and visit for a little while longer. It’s getting late so we tell them they should go home and wait. The kids want to spend the night with Halmoni tonight, so they get ready.
Finally, a little after 8:00pm, another nurse comes in to tell us they’re waiting on the respiratory team to come to remove his ventilator, they just need to send in the orders.
At approximately 8:30pm, Dad’s ventilator is removed and Mom and I sit on either side of him, holding his hand, and wait. His heart rate remains strong and steady, at 100 bpm, his breathing looks good, and he looks like he’s just taking a nap. However, his oxygen levels are very low, immediately going below 40, and staying there.
At about 9:15 – 9:30pm, Mom decides she wants to leave. She’s said her goodbyes, and she is tired and wants to go home. So Whit and the kids pick her up and head over to her house for the night, and Whit returns to be with me and Dad. Dad hangs on and continues with no change. Completely exhausted from being up since 2:00am, I fall asleep while holding Dad’s hand.
At about 11:10pm, I wake up, and notice Dad’s stats are starting to drop. His heart is still beating but very slight and starting to slow. His oxygen is lower and he appears to no longer be breathing. I wake Whit, who also fell asleep, and we wait as we realize this is the end. His heart rate continues to drop slowly and oxygen levels soon reach 0. Dad passed away at 11:22pm on February 1, 2019. I still can’t believe this is real.
Saturday, February 2, 2019
I received a call from an organ donation organization, informing me that altho Dad was too old to donate his internal organs (I do believe his heart had another 50 years on it!), he is eligible for skin donation. I know Dad would have wanted to help however he could, and with Mom's permission, we allow the donation ppl to harvest Dad's skin. I'm a little nervous as they are in Denver, which means they need to transport Dad from the hospital to the donation place, and then back to the funeral home to prepare his body for embalming, but everything goes smoothly. The ppl at the donation place are wonderful and kind and very sympathetic.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
We all go with Mom to church, as they hold a special prayer service before mass for Dad. There are a lot of ppl there. The kids do amazingly well for the entire 2 hours of mass and prayer. It’s hard to see my mom in all black, dressed as a newly widowed woman.
Monday, February 4, 2019
Mom and Dad’s friends from California, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon, and Mr. and Mrs. Lee, fly out to be there for the funeral. It is very nice of them to make this last minute trip and we are all grateful.
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
The day of Dad’s funeral. This was a really difficult day in so many ways. After some persuasion by her friends, she decides on an open casket and viewing. It’s really hard to see Dad that way, it just doesn’t look like him. The people from the funeral home help us a lot and everything goes well overall. Again, the kids behave amazingly well. Many people show up, which was a nice surprise. Everyone is saddened and shocked by the news, as are we. Mr. Kwon gives a lovely eulogy, and I give a tearful one. It is very difficult and I’m not sure anyone even understood what I said, but they were my words for my Dad, so it doesn’t really matter. After the funeral, we invite everyone to a nice lunch at a Chinese buffet restaurant that they frequent often. Then we all head home and find ourselves taking much needed naps. That evening, Mr. Kwon treats us all to dinner at Sweet Tomatoes. It’s weird to not have my Dad there for something he should’ve been at, and it’s a bit difficult, but it’s nice to have their friends with us.
Wednesday, February 6, 2019 – Sunday, February 10, 2019
As the rest of Mom’s friends leave, Mrs. Kwon stays with Mom for another week. We are grateful for her company during this terribly difficult time for Mom. I’m glad she isn’t alone. I finally go back to work on Thursday, which I look forward to, to help me take my mind off things. The funeral home lets me know that Dad was cremated on Thursday and his remains are ready to be picked up on Friday. I drop them off at Mom’s house. The kids love hanging out with Mrs. Kwon and they spend some time with Mom and Mrs. Kwon, who take them to the pool on Saturday, while Whit takes care of getting someone to fix Mom’s water heater. We all stay for dinner that evening. It just doesn’t feel right without Dad there, but having Mrs. Kwon to distract us helps a lot. On Sunday, Mrs. Kwon wants to take us to dinner, so we go to Sushirama for some sushi conveyor belt fun. Again, just feels like something, or someone, is missing.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Mrs. Kwon leaves. And now we have to figure out how to continue living our normal lives, but without Dad in it. I worry a lot about Mom. But we have enough errands to do to keep us busy for now. There is much to be done, but at least we can take our time doing these last things. We need to decide where/how she will live, and realize the best thing will be to have her move in with us, even tho she is perfectly capable of living on her own. It would just be a much bigger comfort for us all. So as we prepare for the future, we are constantly thinking of Dad and missing him immensely.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
We had a private burial ceremony for Dad’s remains at 10:30am at the Cremation Gardens next to Horan and McConaty on County Line and Holly, with just Mom, me and Whit. The priest came to do his blessing. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny February day, and the view of the Rockies was just beautiful. Dad would be very happy with his final resting place, with a front row view of South Suburban Golf Course and the Rocky Mountains behind it. I love that it’s a beautiful site as well as so close to our house, so we can visit anytime we want. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted now that all these formalities are done, and he is safely where he needs to be. It still feels unreal and unfair, and I’m saddened and angry that he had to leave us so soon. His death really put life into perspective for me. I wish I could’ve said all the things I said to him at the hospital, to him while he was still alive. But it’s a great lesson for all of us to not take life and time for granted, especially with those we love, young and old. You just never know what the future holds for any of us. For someone like Dad, so strong and youthful for his 80 years, so sharp in his mind, so carefree and full of gratitude for the life he had worked so hard to build, we never expected it to come to such an abrupt halt. He taught me many lessons just by leading by example. So many traits I have from him that I never really noticed til now, and so many I see in my own kids who were lucky to have him for as long as they did, even tho I desperately wish they had more time with him. I know this journey will continue to be difficult, and remind myself and the kids that it’s okay to be sad and cry when we miss him, but we need to be strong and be happy cuz that’s what Dad would want. More than anything, to just be grateful and happy.
posted by joyce at
10:17 AM
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