My Father (part two)

It was very surreal to be working on my father. Most people don’t know that I'm a Minnesota-licensed First Responder. It is one of the things outside of music that I am been proud of. Whenever an emergency calls goes over the speakers at work, the adrenaline spike is amazing. How I can be casual, working, listening to The Church or whatever, and the next moment, I am totally focused. So there on the sidelines with my dad, half of me was all business as a responder, and the other half of me is thinking, "holy shit, this is my dad!!!"

So the doctors, they never got a pulse back. I realize looking back at the experience now that the only time I felt a pulse in my father after the heart attack was while the other coach was doing compressions. I think some solace can be found in that my father went quickly. And it's very poetic that the old coach went out on a football field. If you can choose such a place for something like this, as his friends said later, it would have been a football field, a golf course, or in a fishing boat. I can imagine that the initial moment it happened there was some pain, but overall I'm glad it was not a prolonged illness. I don't know what's better, a long illness or hospital stay, thus giving the family time to come to terms with what is happening to a loved one, or just going quickly like my father did. I think we'd all say we want to go quickly when our time comes. For whatever reason, it was my father's time. And I truly am glad my family does not have to go visit someone in the hospital for months on end, never knowing if or when they'll get better, what capacities, both mental and physical, will remain, after such a thing. So there is some comfort there.

As you can imagine, I have not been sleeping well at all. I get to sleep ok; I'm exhausted. But then I wake up a few hours later and my mind starts racing again. I know this is natural. I hope that as time goes by, I'll be able to settle back into some better sleep patterns. I'd take a sleeping pill, but I'm honestly too busy during the day to be drugged and drowsy all of the time. September/October has always been crazy/busy for me, what with working all of the high school games I do. In general, my only regret this time of year is that I LOVE autumn, I just really connect with the weather, the colors, the smell in the air. Which is ironic that I'm so busy, as I find this time of year inspirational, yet I have little time to pursue whatever ideas strike my fancy. And now I'm even busier, as I have to help my mom out, taking care of grandma and the yard work that my father would be doing. But it feels good to be unselfish and focus on others. More about that later on when I start wrapping up this journal thread and look to the future.

The grief I felt that Saturday was amazing. After my father passed away, I was led by the hospital chaplain to a private room where I could make some phone calls. First I called my mother. I didn't want to tell her on the phone about what had happened, but she had to know. She was waiting at home, taking care of grandma*, waiting for news. I will not forget the sound of her voice as she said, "Oh Tony..." Then I tried to call my wife, but I couldn't connect with her (I found out soon she was actually in the underground parking garage at the hospital, on the way to see what was happening). Finally, I called the current head football coach at Mayo High School, James Miller. He has been a good family friend for 20 years, and I know he considers my father as his mentor. James was as upset as the rest of us, and the support he showed over the next few days was outstanding. But my car was still at the youth football fields on the edge of town, and I needed a ride out there, and he agreed to come to the hospital and pick me up.

*-My grandma, my dad's mom, is 92 and currently lives at my parent's house. She has Alzheimer's, and she really needs monitoring 24/7. She's had some mini-strokes this past summer, and she's really started to slip in her memory. To the point where she'll wander off outside of the house if we don't keep an eye on her. My dad had actually put a payment down on a room in a new Alzheimer's home that is opening here in Rochester in November. But until then, we are going to have to spread the burden of care for her between my mother, myself, and my wife, Tricia.

Tricia arrived at the hospital and I took her in to see my father. Of course we'd have time for formal services later, but she wanted to see him. I promised him, as I would many times in the coming days, to live up to his example and take care of the family. We went out to the lobby just as James arrived. Tricia left to go to my parent's house, and James and I went to go get my car. As I eventually drove to my parent's house in the twilight, I can't believe I made it. I cried the whole way there. Again promising to do all I could to grow up and take my place as the man of the family here in town. I do have an older brother, Mike, but he's in North Carolina. So for the day-to-day things, it'll be up to me now.

In general, the next few days were just a blur, crazy, and amazing. As I pulled into my parent's driveway, there were already many friends of the family there. The phone was ringing off of the hook, and would do so for days. We recieved so much food that it filled up my mom's main refrigerator, the fridge in the garage, the freezer downstairs, and then Tricia and I had to start taking some of the food back to our house. Bless people's hearts, they just want to help and connect. No offense to my mother, after all, she'd just lost her husband of 48 years, but she was having a hard time making decisions. I don't blame her. Having lost my son 6 years ago, I know the official mechanisms had to be put in place.

It's one of the cruel jokes of our world that, when something like a death happens, all of sudden you are just busy with so many things you have to do. I called the funeral director at his home, as he knows our family well. His son played for my father, and later helped coach the team for a few years. I arranged a meeting with him for the following morning to plan the visitation and funeral services.

Amazingly, even though this happened at 2:30 in the afternoon, it was a story on the 6 o'clock news. You see, my father was the head football coach at Mayo High School, for most of his time one of two public high schools here in town (there are now three). He was very well known, and from what I gather, word of this spread like wildfire throughout the community. The next day on Sunday, the TV news had a special segment on my father, with the coaches reminiscing about him. I have it on video tape and hope to find a way to post it online soon. And then that Monday as well there were three articles on my dad in the local paper, including a very cool photo of him I didn’t recall from around 1975. I’m going to scan those in and post them at a little website I’m making for my dad. I was quoted in one or two of the articles. I’m good friends with one of the reporters, and I talked to him Saturday night on the phone about what had happened. I had no idea he was going to quote me, but that’s OK, I didn’t say anything to embarrass myself or my father.

So, that was Saturday, one of the shittiest days of my life. To top it all off, I stayed for the next two days at my folk’s in order to help out with my mom, my grandma, everything in general, and the dog, Molly, a 13-year old springer spaniel. What I mean by saying “to top it all off” is that I stayed downstairs, where all of my dad’s stuff was. His office with years of football team pictures, that sort of thing. I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve stood in his office, even very recently, and just soaked up the history, how cool it all was. Of course on Saturday night, it brought many tears, but I had to go in there for a while. I myself have been working with the team, which I have done since 1993. I go to all of the games, hang with the coaches, and videotape the games for the coaches and team to review. I also run the team website: http://www.mayofootball.com/