Loss

The call came just before lunch, in the middle of an online meeting, on Monday. “It’s a call I never want to have to make”, said the voice on the other end of the line.

“Your mom was wandering on the porch.” “What happened to my dad?”, I heard myself ask. “I’m so sorry, he’s deceased”, said the voice. The rest was buried in a jumble of words as I tried to make sense of what I had just been told. How soon can you come? and is there anyone we can call to be with your mom until you can get here?, requiring me to remember how to breathe. I gave answers as I tried to calculate how soon I could get home, pack my things and get to their house 2 hours away.

I struggled to comprehend what I needed to do, put on my coat or empty my cup in the break room so it wouldn’t sit half full of soda for weeks, maybe even months, before I would be back in this building, sitting in this chair. Grab everything I need to work remotely and where are my keys?, who should I call first, my brother or my husband?, did I let my boss know?, as I half walked, half ran out the door.

Stay in the left lane and don’t forget to stop and get gas competed with a prayer for no traffic or red lights as I struggled to drive home without getting pulled over. Once home try not to forget anything, prescriptions, a dress for the funeral, shoes, what will the weather be like and do I need a coat? It was like trying to function in the dark in a strange place where I didn’t know my way around.

Taking care of mom, lists and phone calls ruled the remainder of that day and yesterday. Today is the first time I cried. The house feels empty even with 2 of us in it. The silence is a heavy weight that settles around me like a smothering blanket. His chair is empty, waiting….. The absence of his presence is palpable.

It’s the little things, the birds at the feeders, he loved so much, the deer and foxes in the pasture, that he will never watch again, the 64 years of loving and then caring for mom. The beautiful sunsets at his house that will never again look the same to me.

Having to make phone calls to doctors and pharmacies and numerous military divisions and saying the same words. I need to let you know…….

Looking through his phone and computer to get contact information for the few remaining cousins and friends who need to be told.

Asking people not to send flowers as mom wouldn’t understand. Answering the questions we don’t have the answers for, how did it happen?, when did it happen?

It’s also the moments of finding things that speak to his sense of humor that make me laugh, like the military retiree checklist for family, where he wrote ….I looked but couldn’t find it…, on the item for location of death certificates (I found it for you dad).

My greatest sorrow will be the last time I spoke to him as I left for home after my biweekly 3 day stay. I hugged and kissed him goodbye. “I will be back in a week and a half, call me if you need me sooner…” He did and I wasn’t here and didn’t know until it was far too late.