FEMA Camp Administrator
Cathcon
Atlas Star
Posts: 27,310
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« on: September 02, 2011, 02:06:38 PM » |
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I've been on the forum for roughly eleven months, starting in early October. About a month before that, on September 2nd, my Dad died. He had been on a ladder cutting off a large part of the tree on August 27th. When it finally left its base, my brother and I, holding ropes connected to the falling branch, had the job of making sure it didn't fall towards the house. However, we apparently weren't strong enough. It fell back towards both my house and my Dad, hitting him off the ladder causing him to fall to the ground. Meanwhile, the piece of tree (branch doesn't quite sum it up), landed leaning against the house. My Mom, brother, and I were scared out of our wits, rushing over to him. At first, it seemed like my Dad might be a vegetable for the rest of his life, lacking the ability to talk. It took my Mom breathing into his mouth (can't think of the right word) to get him the necessary oxygen to regain his wits. He seemed able to answer the questions my Mom asked, but wasn't talking normally. He had a huge gash in his leg and had landed on his back. My brother called the police/fire department, and within minutes, they had arrived and were rushing him on a stretcher into the ambulance. When we were finally able to get to the hospital after accidentally going to a different hospital, we learned the news: he had a very large back injury. It was just to the point where if it were any worse, he would be paralyzed. However, it seemed that he could be cured. By then we had stopped worrying about his mental state. For the next few days we stayed at the hospital, hearing about how it seemed he would get better. On September 2nd, which I am guessing was a Thursday, I had stayed over at my friend's house the night before in order to get a break from sleeping at my grandparents' or in the hospital, and came in assuming that it would be another day of waiting for him to get better. However, when we (my brother and I) my Mom was crying and she had been told that my Dad's body was beginning to shut down. It was inexplicable, and it was assumed that the fall had just been too much for his body to sustain. The major area of concern was his kidneys which had shut down and they were realying on a machine to clean his blood. Over the course of th enext few hours, the news only got worse until finally, it was decided. It didn't seem like it was decided until we were in his hospital room and they began shutting down the machines. Then, like that, I had wished my Dad farewell, and it was over.
I've basically acted as if my Dad was alive in the few times I've mentioned him or said "my parents" because I was told by my Mom not to reveal personal information about myself and, I guess, the family. Therefore, I've acted as if nothing happened while on here.
My Dad was the church organist at our church and dare I say a damn good one. He had worked there for many years, since I think 1994, before my birth. He was born on May 31st, 1957 in Ohio, had come to Michigan in 1982 for college (after having lived in other states as well and having had other college degrees). He met my Mom in the early nineties, and they were married. Since this is the one year anniversary of his death, I felt I shoudl get it off my chest, and I'm not quite sure how to say this, but this is how I've said it.
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