The Day My World Stood Still

I can remember hearing ESPN in the morning and absolutely dreading it. I knew that sound meant it was time to get up for school. Now that I look back, I miss it. My dad watched it every morning before he took us to school. I would drag myself out of bed and go sit by the heat register on the floor because I was always freezing. I argued with my mom about getting dressed and ready for school. Mornings were rushed because we were almost always late. My mom will be pissed at me for saying it, but dad was only ever late to anything if he was with her. :p She ever so graciously passed that quality down to me, her oldest. Thanks ma! I have a baby sister and brother whom I love very much. They can attest to our amazing and memorable childhood and everything I am about to say. I remember my parents giving us the best birthday parties, filled with awesome cake, neapolitan ice cream, sloppy joes, potato chips, Kool-Aid by the gallon, and you were almost always guaranteed to see an ashtray on the table and someone smoking a cig while we sang happy birthday, like that meme you see on Facebook about birthday parties in the 90s. I can vouch that birthday parties in the 90’s, were out of this world, the best time ever, epitome of fun. We had tons of family and friends there for us and got so many awesome gifts. There was always someone walking around with a video camera recording. You were likely to see our cousin Cory jumping in front of that camera any chance he got. I wonder where those videos are. I could tell you about all the dumb shit we did as kids, like riding the toy box lid down the stairs and having a war with grapes and baby powder, but that would be an entire series of blogs alone. We pissed our parents off so bad that when I look back, I wonder how we even survived. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but our house in Kenmore, Ohio, was by far my favorite. It was haunted, looked like a mansion to me, and was my favorite color, yellow. There was a playroom that was a complete disaster daily with no floor to be seen. We had a finished attic where my sister and I shared a bedroom and spent a lot of our time. One of my favorite rooms in that house had black and white tile checker squares on the floor, and it just looked so magical to me. I remember how that room lit up and filled with people and music during holidays and parties. Did I mention how incredible Christmas was? My parents made every Christmas so special for us. One time they were at the mall and had a ton of presents in their car and someone broke in and stole all of them! Of course, they bought them all over again, but that was just the kind of parents we had. They did EVERYTHING for us and made sure we had the best lives. My sister, brother and I used to fight over the dumbest shit. There was a specific occasion involving one (1) Monopoly board game and two (2) extremely competitive sisters. All I remember is the board game flying through the air and the words, “I hate you!”, being thrown around. The next thing you know my mom is measuring my hand to the handprint she found on my sister’s back. Good times Bethykins! My brother Raymie and I could be found playing action figures and Barbie's, and getting along more often than Beth and I. Flashlight tag was our go to game with the neighbor kids. Once the streetlights turned on, we knew it was time to get our asses back home. On a couple regretful occasions, we heard the screeching voice of our mom calling us home which meant we were in trouble. Our car rides were always filled with Led Zeppelin, KISS, Billy Squier and Guns N Roses, and you could bet your ass that we were fighting in the backseat and it could be heard from a mile away. The next sound you heard were the car tires screeching and my dad yelling, “Don’t make me pull this damn car over!” Oh, how I wish we could go back to the times that we were raised in. Very different world that we live in today. We definitely had more good times and good memories than bad, and if I could take a time machine and travel back, I would re-live my ENTIRE childhood again. I could go on and on and write an entire book about growing up, but this is just a blog after all.

I want to talk about my father now specifically. After all, he is the reason for this blog. So here is what I remember about this amazing man. My dad was always there for us for anything and everything we needed. He was the best shoulder to cry on because he held you so tight that you could not even remember why you were upset in the first place. My father gave the best advice on any subject or issue we had. He was the most intelligent man I knew, so smart that he could have been a fucking brain surgeon. He was always there to lend a helping hand anytime you needed something. My father put everyone else before himself and would have given the shirt off his back if it meant that you would not be cold. He took me to my many dance competitions and was there to watch every single one of my dance performances. He was the loudest one in the audience and I always knew right where he was sitting just by his whistling and yelling. My dad was there to support my choreography and my students when I became a dance instructor. He did not hesitate to tell me, “I am so fucking proud of you,” after every show. He was my biggest fan, and I will forever be grateful for that. Some other pretty significant memories….he took me to my ultrasound appointment to find out if baby Lillian was a girl or boy. That was something incredibly special we shared, and I will always cherish it. He was there to walk me down the aisle when I married my best friend, to cook and grill the most incredible food that could have been on a menu at a restaurant. My dad could make us laugh till we fucking cried because he was the funniest man and told the best jokes that I never got tired of hearing. He gave the best hugs that melted away any sadness or pain. He was strong like the Hulk, brave like Batman and mighty like Thor. He was our Superhero! He was the best father a girl could have EVER asked for.

Fast forward to the water works….

I remember this night like it was yesterday, as it was painfully burned into my being for the rest of my life. I usually called him on my way to work, but for some reason that day I did not. I remember sending him a text when I got to the dance studio, November 4, 2019, 4:25 p.m., "Hey do you think you could watch Jax Saturday morning a couple hours? 🙏 This text remains in my phone to this day and I still read it because I wonder if this was one of the last messages that he saw. My phone rang as I was driving home from the dance studio. It was my mom. She asked if I heard from my dad. Of course not, since I was teaching all night. Just 2 days before that dreadful fucking night, we had an amazing birthday party for mom and my nephew. There was so much love that night. I remember taking videos and pictures of Dad with the kids and thinking, “what if this is the last time I get to do this.” Turns out, it was. I cried the whole hour drive to my mom’s house. I had a horrible, empty, aching and terrifying feeling inside because it was not like my dad to just not come home from work. As soon as my brother called and said the cops were at his house, my heart sank into my stomach. My poor mom was livid that the cops did not come to her house and went to Raymonds. My sister was on the phone when they told him that my dad had a massive heart attack and passed away at work. He was the last person at work and was there all alone. I always think about that and wonder how long he was there before they found him. It literally makes me sick to my stomach. I can still hear my sister saying, “He died,” in my head. She said it so calmly, as my sister is one of the strongest and bravest people I know. All I could do was scream. I fell to my knees and screamed. I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t breathe, my heart was being torn into a million fucking pieces. I felt every emotion that you could possibly imagine feeling when you find out a huge piece of your existence and life is suddenly. unexpectedly. just. dead…. gone forever. never coming back. I realized I would never hear his voice again. I would never be able to pick up the phone to call him or get that call in the morning from him to be careful because the roads were slippery. I wouldn’t get to hear his laugh or any of his jokes. It was so overwhelming I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest and I just didn’t even exist anymore. How could I? How could I live without my daddy? After what seemed like 1,000 years, it was quiet and I felt my body become numb as I made my way to my house. I could not bring myself to sleep that night. All I could do was stare at the ceiling in disbelief and cry. It didn’t even feel like I was breathing. The next day, and the conversation that we had to have with Lilly, would prove to be one of the hardest conversations I have ever had in my entire life. “Lillian. Something happened last night. Grandad’s heart was very sick, and he went to heaven.”

My father always worked his ass off for his family, even with having heart disease, triple bypass surgery, and another surgery to put a stent in, we all knew that it was only a matter of time until we lost him to this horrible disease. Tragedy is defined as, “an event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress. A branch of drama that treats in a serious and dignified style the sorrowful or terrible events encountered or caused by a heroic individual” (brittanica.com). My daddy was my hero. I always looked up to him and wanted to one day be an amazing parent and role model like he was to us kids. He was 52 years old and passed away the night before my mom’s birthday. What a fucking horrible way to spend your birthday. My mom is the toughest and bravest woman I know, and I will always aspire to be like her. In every way imaginable, my father’s death was tragic, unexpected and heartbreaking. I will remember that day forever, and no amount of time will EVER heal me. This is by far one of the hardest things I have learned these past 16 months since you left. It isn't the amount of time, because to be honest, no amount of time can heal you or make the pain and heartache go away completely. It is the other stuff. The loving yourself, creating healthy habits, believing in you, doing what sets your soul on FIRE! These are the things that help you heal. These are the things that help you move forward. These are the things that help you live again!

Until we meet again,

Your baby girl Feath 🧡