In loving memory of my dad
The past week has been a week of firsts for me. Let me share some with you:
• My father called me on Friday night and I remember how optimistic he was. The conversation started with him asking me a lot of questions about my life and my health. He was very interested in hearing about my doctor’s visit and wanted to understand as much as he could. I talked a lot. The conversation then changed and he explained to me his situation of being in the hospital and released while he waited for more results. But he downplayed his health concerns and he assured me that he was fine. I went to bed exhausted after a very long and hectic week. And I said to Courtney, “I’m going to turn off my phone because I really need to get a good rest.” This was the first time for me.
• I went to bed and fell asleep in 3 minutes vs. my usual 5 minutes. You see, I’m like a toy doll and when I go to bed, my eyes just close. Around 1 am our alarm went off in the house. That alarm is our 50 pound dog who sleeps 20-23 hours a day, but he is always on guard. We woke up and I went under the bed to hide. I asked Courtney to see what was going on. (By the way, just for people who don’t know me, I didn’t really go under the bed…I went in the closet.) We quickly learned that she was my sister. What a sight that was, at that late hour. Honestly, her hair looked like she had put her finger in the light socket and she was half asleep. Jan said, “Wayne, Dad just called and said to find you.” I immediately called my dad and got a brief update from my mom, who quickly handed him the phone. She then proceeded to tell me the situation and she told me 4 words that I will never forget or thought I would ever hear from him, “I need your help”. I immediately went into crisis mode and arranged for the next flight in the morning, arriving around 2pm on Saturday. I rushed to the hospital and when I got there, he seemed to be stable. He was even telling some funny stories and reassuring me that everything was okay and that he was going to be okay. If you made a bet with me, I never would have thought that my dad would ever say, “I need your help.” He was like me, or maybe I am like him. We are givers. He was a giver and always “Mr. Fix it”. Those words of his request for help were completely new to me.
• We groped for the next few days with a battery of tests, etc., and he was soon ready for release. During this time, we talked a lot about things and at one point in our conversations, I asked him if he knew where his new home was. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “My home is in heaven, but I have a temporary layover in Orlando, Florida.” That’s where Courtney and I live. I was relieved because I wanted him and my mom to come to Orlando and live with us, BUT I wanted them on board, and he was on board! He was on cloud 9 when they were ready to move south. Meanwhile, Courtney was on her way north to help me with all of this. She was thinking: good things, life is good. My parents are really going to enjoy Florida with us, we are going to rock!
• My father was released from the hospital and we headed to a nearby hotel because I wanted them to stay one night just to make sure everything was ok before taking them home to prepare for the move to the “temporary house” in Orlando. I took them to the hotel which was literally across the street from the hospital and my mom told me to slow down, turn here, etc. I’m kidding, of course, but she doesn’t like me driving at all, even though I have a pretty clean driving record, except for getting a speeding ticket when Melissa was 3. Just a reminder, don’t tell a 3 year old to keep a secret, it will always backfire on you. We got to the hotel and in the elevator my dad stopped and said, “Wayne, I’m going down.” I did my best to help him to his knees while my mother proceeded to get more help for me and called the ambulance. We put him on the stretcher, they left and I told him, I’ll be right there. For the first time in my life I said to myself: I don’t know what to do. But I recovered and went into “Matt Elsey, the tough guy, Mr. Fix It” mode and went back to the hospital.
• We were all together in the emergency room, laughing and trying to strategize our next moves, etc. Everything was fine. Mom was exhausted, but optimistic. We really thought everything was going to be alright. Dad was always a fighter and he was the rock. However, in a matter of minutes things changed. And soon I was at his bedside and he was dying. And, with his last breath, Mr. Fix It, Matt, he said to me, “Wayne, take good care of your mother.” He was stunned. We left the room while the medical team tried to revive him. But within minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the doctor came out with the words, “I’m sorry, there was nothing more we could do.” It was shocking. It was devastating. It was heartbreaking. My father, my mother’s husband, the greatest entertainer you could ever hope to meet, had died.
• Mom and I stood there for a short time in stunned silence at what had just happened. But then I knew we had to move on. So, I got my mom ready and had dinner. We honestly had few words for each other as we were both, and still are, in disbelief. I had some relief as I always remembered that my mom ate like a bird, she had a salad and ate every slice of her 12 inch pizza.
So here we are, a few days later, which seem like months, and I have the following to share with you:
I woke up crying at 4am on Thursday and it was vividly clear to me that we all need to think about our lives. You see, this “coffin” in front of us, we’ll refer to it as a box for the sake of context. We all live our lives full of joy, regret, worry, garbage, fear, etc. But make no mistake, each and every day we play the game of life. And what I see vividly now is that when that game is over, each of us goes back to the box. But, what remains is what we bring to the game. That never fades from time.
I ask you to think about what my father meant to you and what you mean to others, what legacy are you leaving behind? What I have from my father are not material things, but memories. Memories of who he was and what he stood for, that will live on in me, in my daughter and then in my granddaughter. Flashbacks of him being Matt. Memories of the enormous love he had and has for my mother, his 53-year-old girlfriend. Memories of him working hard to support my mom, Cindy, Jan, Timmy and me. Flashbacks of how his eyes lit up for Christmas when Courtney and I showed up with a real Christmas surprise for him and my mom, which was to see Melissa, Josh, and his new great-granddaughter, Aubree. Memories of seeing them for the first time and what we know today was the last time. You’ll see almost everything go back in the box: the cash at the top of the corporate ladder, the vacation home on the lake and the estate vehicle, the jewelry, the clothes, and everything in between. All the chips, game pieces we collect, and prizes are left behind when it’s our time to leave the table. The only real “earnings” you claim and keep are your own soul, the memories that live on in those who knew you, and the love you have for Christ and others.
In closing, “Dad, I have this. I will take care of your beautiful girlfriend and my mother. I have this. And, yes, I may have said for a moment, ‘I don’t know what to do.’ do’, but rest in peace friend. Dad, you’ve made it very clear to me, I know what to do.”
© 2015 Not your father’s charity. All rights reserved.