My Dad

For two weeks I kept telling myself, "I need to call Dad."  But, then I would forget.  I never made that call.  Then on Sunday, March 13th, my step-sister called.  When Pam calls, it's not good news.  She told me that Dad's health was deteriorating.  In the past two weeks he had been in the hospital, then in a nursing home, then the hospital, then the nursing home.  He had been living at home with my step-mom caring for him up until TWO WEEKS AGO. 
Why did I capitalize "two weeks ago"?  Because, for two weeks I had been telling myself I needed to call Dad, but didn't.  I believe God stopped me from calling Dad because Dad wasn't at home.  My step-mom wouldn't have been home to answer the calls, or might have been too flustered to talk.  To top it all off, my step-mom (and step-sister) came down with the flu during this same time period. 
Anyway, back to that call.  Pam said it wasn't looking good.  Dad's heart was only 15% alive, you see.  Plus, he was 80 years old.  He had Alzheimers.  When I said my step-mom had been caring for him, I meant: she had been caring for him.  Doing everything for him, basically.  Dad had gotten sick, then he had a little heart attack.  So, it wasn't looking good.  It could be anytime....
Pam and I talked about Dad.  I told her that Dad had been blessed.  He married a wonderful lady (her mom) who absolutely adored Dad and made him happy.  Dad had his four biological children, whom he loved very much, plus three step-daughters, who loved him and whom he loved.  He lived longer than HIS dad did.  Also longer than his brother did.  Pam reminded me that he lived thirty years after his quadruple bypass.  Plus he had a triple bypass after that, and I don't know what, or how many other, procedures. 
I said my step-mom adored Dad.  She did.  Mary praised my dad.  She said he was a good, honorable, loving, kind man.  She refused to hear anyone speak against Dad.  She said he was the best patient.  So good.  So happy.  She loved my dad. 
My dad.  Daddy.  My parents divorced when I was very young.  Dad wasn't home much before then because he was in the Navy.  I have very few memories of him at home.  I do remember one.  I was brushing his hair with my brush!  My favorite story that my mother told me was one that took place when I was six weeks old. 
I was born with bilateral club feet.  To "fix" my feet, they had to break them and then put casts on them.  It took my mom, my sister and two nurses to hold me down.  I was 6 weeks old!!  Anyway, after a very tiring evening at the doctor's office, Mom pulls into the driveway.  The lights in the house are on, which surprises Mom.  My dad stepped out of the house.  I think my mom said she started crying.  Either my sister or my brother was holding me.  My dad reached out his arms, my sibling put me in his arms.  I woke up and looked at him with (as my mother put it) my big brown eyes and my dad said, "How's my little princess?".  I smiled.  I believe that was the first time we met because my dad was on board the USS Ticonderoga when I was born.
As I said, my parents divorced when I was very young.  I missed my daddy.  When he came to pick us up for a visit, I would run to him.  I always wanted to hold his hand.  I sooooo loved my daddy.  And I missed him.  I didn't know him very well, but, I missed him.  I wanted my daddy.  I used to cry at night for my daddy.  I didn't get to see him very often.  When I became a teenager, I really wanted to live with my dad.  Things weren't that great at home.  But it didn't happen.  Then my mom got cancer.  Close to the end, she asked me to live with my brother when she died, not with my dad. I promised.  Besides, I was going to be a Senior in High School. 
So, when Dad asked me to come live with him, I said no.  Years later I found out that he cried after he left.  That hurts.  Also, years later, I found out that he was going to try to get custody of us, but was stopped.  I'm not going to go into why he didn't fight.... This little blog is not to bash anyone. 
I did visit him after I "grew up".  Several times.  Each time I got to know him, and my step-mom, better.  I so enjoyed visiting them.  I also enjoyed seeing the love they shared.  The visits were always wonderful.  Dad visited us, in Texas, once on his own.  Another time, he and Mary came to visit.  We all enjoyed both of those visits. 
In December 2009 my dad had a heart attack.  We thought we were going to lose him.  I wanted to go see him, but things were tight.  My hubby suggested I try to win a trip from KSCS.  So, I entered the contest and said why I wanted to fly to Arizona to see my dad.  I received a phone call from Hawkeye and Terry Dorsey of KSCS.  I won a trip.  I am sooo glad I did.  I saw my dad and step-mom at Christmas.  Dad actually got better.  He was able to go home.  Yay!! 
I would call Pam and/or Mary occasionally to check on Dad and Mary.  Pam has been wonderful.  Honestly.  She has her own family to care for, but she has been such a blessing and a help for Dad & Mary.  Mary should be super proud to have Pam for a daughter. 
Today I kept looking at my cell phone while I was at work.  I kept expecting a phone call.  I just had that "feeling".  This evening after supper my phone rang, but it was "Name Withheld".  So, I didn't answer it.  Then I listened to the voicemail.  It was Pam, asking me to call.  I immediately called her and she gently told me that Dad had passed away, quietly, peacefully, in his sleep.  She told me how sorry she was.  Bless her heart, she was hurting as much, if not more than I was!  Dad actually passed away a litte after midnight.  They were supposed to call her immediately, but waited until morning.  She didn't want to call me at work.  She wanted me to be home, where I could have privacy, so she waited until this evening to call.
My daddy, Robert Eugene Meyer, passed away.  He is resting.  Asleep.  At peace.
Born: May 7, 1930.  Died: March 15, 2011.