My Story

So how did I become qualified to write a blog about the death of parents? I wouldn't say that I am necessarily qualified. My father passed away recently (it feels like yesterday) and so I have experienced the death of a parent. Since then, I have bonded with people particularly because we have experienced the death of a parent. We had similar life stories. But everyone's story is different. Here is mine:

The last time I saw my dad alive and well I was walking out of my wedding reception with my new husband, leaving on our honeymoon. I don't remember if I even hugged or kissed him before I left. That day, August 25, 2005, will be so precious in my memory for so much more than it was that day I got married.

My dad was a piano technician. This means he went around to businesses/houses/churches in our community fixing them up to play well and in tune. He had been doing that for over 35 years and he was really good (I am a little biased). On October 17, 2005 he was just on the outskirts of town regulating the action on a family's piano. He had been working on it all day and the previous day as well. I think he had one or two days left on that job. This is where the mystery sets in. My father was driving home from that job on a one lane each way undivided highway. He had been driving these roads for decades but for some reason something changed. The police report says that my father's car (1990 white Honda Civic) drifted into the oncoming lane. The 18-wheeler truck tried to move over but my dad's car just kept coming over the center line. The driver's side of the car was run over by the 4 wheels on the last trailer of the oncoming truck, crushing my father.

This is the part that gets me. How could my dad drift? He was old, but not that old, only 63. If we have road trips, he always drives because he's the best driver. It was only 5:45 pm so he couldn't have been that drowsy. He uses the cell phone for his work but he has a headset always attached to his ear (to the point of annoyance) and he makes a point to pull over every time he used it. Maybe he had a seizure, maybe he dropped something, maybe he was thinking about something. We'll never know because we can't ask him. I just don't understand how it could happen.

I was at home waiting for a study partner for an exam the next day when my sister-in-law internet messaged me. "Your dad has been in a serious car accident. Call Greg." I stared at the screen in shock. My phone started to ring. It was my brother, Greg. He didn't know his wife had messaged me so he was pretending like everything was ok and asking me about my day. He has this tendency to have a positive attitude about everything and it makes me furious sometimes. He heard me crying and got mad at his wife for telling me over instant messenger. Then he told me the full story. Dad was in the ER in Lethbridge (my hometown) and was in trouble. They were going to life-flight him to the nearest neurosurgeon (Calgary, the biggest city in the province) and try to remove the pieces of his skull that had been contaminated. This would also hopefully allow the brain to swell enough outside of the skull to relieve the pressure against his brain. The pressure is what causes the most brain damage. I cried and I prayed and sobbed some more, but my dad was having surgery so there was hope.

My study partner arrived and we carried on as normal.

I'll write more about the ensuing days a little later. I can only think about it in chunks.