I awoke one year ago today anticipating a fairly average Monday.
A quiet morning on a typical day off, then we planned to attend the funeral of a family friend in the afternoon. But the phone call at about 9:00 am changed that day and the weeks after that!
My step-mom sounded upset and desperate, asking us to come over to their apartment and try to "convince your father" to go to the doctor! By the time we arrived, Dad needed an ambulance and didn't really give Walter any resistance to calling 9-1-1. The paramedics arrived very quickly and within minutes, Dad went into cardiac arrest.
I always wondered how I would react if and when my parents would become seriously ill and/or pass away. Surprisingly, I felt calm and could think and respond to the situation (along with Walter) as Dinah needed us! I wasn't overly worried or anxious. Somehow I knew this time would come. Dad wasn't particularly healthy for a 70+ year old man but it still seemed too early to me.
Now, a year later, I was anticipating more emotion and grieving. It has come off and on this summer, with the annual Queen City Exhibition and parade bringing a flood of memories and feelings of good times with Dad on the rides and midway. And Dad always made or pulled a float in the parade since I was a kid. This fall, as I see combines in the fields, I think of Dad waiting by the phone for the call to come and help harvest for some local farmers. I'd feel the tears stinging and the lump in my throat as I knew Dad wouldn't be harvesting anymore.
This morning, I thought I'd journal and let my heart and memory go where they needed to as I processed Dad's sickness and passing. But I was interrupted by a phone call. Only after I took down the information and made three other phone calls, did I realize the special "coincidence" of this occasion: I was being informed of my fall square curling team!
Probably one of the single most influential and impacting places in my relationship with my Dad has been the Tartan Curling Club and the sport of curling. Seeing Dad sit behind his desk as Manager of the Club for 33 years or hearing his voice over the crackly intercom to page a curler for a phone call are memories that won't quickly fade! My love for curling and the interest and passion our kids have all inherited for the sport are due largely to Grandpa's influence. He would watch my curling games-at least my shots-and give me advice once in a while! He sponsored our children in the "Curl for Kids" program and would come to their competitions whenever possible. He later coached our son, Daniel, in Junior Men's division of competitive curling in Saskatchewan. Dad was the biggest fan!
Even when I'd be visiting Dad in the hospital, he knew I'd come before or after my curling game (the General Hospital is a few blocks from the Tartan). I'd be somewhat apologetic about cutting the visit short because of that but he wouldn't have it any other way. "No, go curl! I'm not going anywhere!" he'd say!
There will be other anniversaries and family gatherings and holidays that will trigger sadness and will emphasize the void Dad leaves in our celebrations. Somehow I know God will provide some special comfort ~just for me.
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