The Remembering Tree

Thursday, 17 April 2008

Yesterday, as I was checking HM (Honolulu Mommies), there was a thread on "How you met your Husband". I cut and pasted a story I wrote on my blog a year ago, after Chris and I got married. The story focused mainly on caring for my dad...how my dad's illness finally brought me home to Hawai'i, how his illness taught me how precious life is, how I thought I would confirm the saying "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride"....and finally, how I reconnected with Chris (whom I grew up with at Summer Fun), and got married so that my dad could walk me down the aisle -- something I never thought would happen once he was diagnosed with ALS. I added to my story that two months after Chris and I got married, my father lost his 2 1/2 year battle to ALS. Then, two months after that, his first grandchild Chase was born.

Exactly one year ago today, my father's body succumbed to respiratory failure as a result of ALS (Lou Gherig's Disease). I remember just like it was yesterday. He had just moved from under our care at our house back to Bernice's house just a couple of days prior. Although I hadn't seen him since he moved, I decided to visit him because I had gotten an ultrasound that day. I showed him a cute picture of a baby boy with outstretched legs, crossing his legs at the ankles, just relaxing in my tummy. He smiled and told me to make sure I took his important file box from the cabinet. He told me to take it home with me. I fixed his pillows around his head and his knees. Uncle Frank came over to feed him dinner and hang out with him as Bernice had gone to Lindsey's basketball game that night. I didn't stay for dinner though and went home because Jay was going to bring home dinner for us. At around 9:30 pm or so, Bernice called my cell phone. I let it go straight to voice mail because I was already in bed. But then she called again and called the house phone too. The urgency in her voice told me that something was wrong. Plus, she told me something was wrong with Dad and to hurry down. I told Jay I was going down. It took Chris and I about five minutes to get ready to head down there. Within five more minutes, she was already ringing me again and telling me to hurry...because she thought he's dying. I called my brother and Uncle Gary and told them to hurry too as we raced down to the house, not more than 5 minutes away. The next half an hour was stressful, emotional, and surreal as close family and friends came to Dad's bedside. He was fading fast, and though he did not respond, I would like to think that he was still alive when we got there. Within half an hour, his lifeless body got cool and the next hour we spent making phone calls to friends, calling the Hospice nurse to come and declare his death, and waiting for the mortuary to come. It was a long night that night. I remember Auntie Stevi telling me not to worry...that they would help me take care of the baby, that they would be here for me (Little did they know that they really DID have to take care of me, as I would end up a fixture in their living room a month later when I was put on bedrest!).

The past year has been a busy one. After my dad's funeral, I didn't have much to think about except for the baby that was on his way and how we were in for a new adventure. When Chase arrived two months later, I was thrown into a new life that I was unprepared for...a new life of mommyhood (that I had no idea about): sleepless nights, engorged boobs, lots of diapers, infant poop, baby spitup, learning how to communicate and work as a team with my husband, learning how to communicate and figure out my baby, seeing the joys of him babbling, eating, laughing, crawling, standing, and playing. Wow! What a journey it has been.

Even though I remember the way my dad left so vividly, I much rather prefer to remember how he lived. He taught me many lessons growing up, and I hope to pass those on to Chase. He taught me how to fish, how to drive, how to cook, how to get dirty, and how to play sports (though I hope Chase will be better at sports than I was). He taught me how to be assertive, honest, selfless, frugal, carefree, adventurous, humble, and how to think of others first before you think of yourself. He taught me the importance of family, remembering where you came from (and being proud of it), being independent, the importance of education, loving food (and leftovers!), being worldly, meeting new people, being persistent, being reflective, and living life to its fullest.

There are pictures of Dad all around the house. Chase still lights up when he sees him each morning, and we say goodbye to him each time we leave the house. His ashes (though they're still in the original container we brought them home in from the funeral home - though my dad would say leave it because of his frugalness, I need to find something more respectable and nicer) are still on the bookcase in the living room. I always talk to Dad whenever I need to, sharing the ups and downs of parenthood with him. I'd like to think he's looking down at us, smiling.

Today, I thought it was appropriate to bring Chase to visit the tree at McCoy Pavilion. Last summer, his Parks and Recreation coworkers/friends planted a tree in his memory at Ala Moana Park, where he was last the manager. I had yet to see the tree myself, so we went for a late afternoon visit. Chase played near the tree as I took pictures of him. If it wasn't for Chase being here in our lives, this past year would have been a lot harder for me. Of course I do get sad when I see Chris' parents, who get to spoil and enjoy him each week, doting over him. I know my dad would have enjoyed him too.

We'll just have to make it an annual tradition, to visit Dad's park and his tree...to remember him, the kind-hearted, fun-loving, athletic guy he was. I know Dad wouldn't want me to cry for him today, so I've tried not to, but now after writing this, it's much harder. I miss him dearly, but know that he is in a better place, not suffering anymore... and though he physically does not get to enjoy Chase, he lives on with us in our minds and in our hearts.