Daddy, 1946-2005

[darth_stitch]

He died with a smile on his face.

It was today, July 9, 2005 at 12:40 in the morning.

One of the doctors told us that it was, indeed, most likely, lymphoma. Since the prognosis had already been so grim and Dad's condition so bleak, we had already decided that the best thing to do was to stop all invasive and painful tests, make him as comfortable as possible and let him go gracefully and peacefully. The final antibiotic most likely had killed the infection, but it was already too late. Dad's organs were already failing, his anemia could not be stopped and his blood pressure was already dropping.

I want to catalogue my good memories of him first, because that's the way I want to remember him best.

Dad's smile was an infectious thing and he didn't just laugh or do a "manly" chuckle. He giggled. Snickered. Sniggered. Delightedly. You just had to laugh with him.

Daddy was proud that I was his "firstborn," his little "baby girl." Because that was what he wanted to give his parents. A first granddaugther. Grandma or "Mama" as I called her, had always wanted a daughter after having three sons but never did get one. So did Grandpa or "Papa." So Dad ended up presenting them with me. The Eggling came later.

Daddy was not the "hugging" or "kissing" type of father but he was very affectionate. He showed it in his words and in his touch. When we were growing up and going to school, he usually went to join us for breakfast, "massage our brains" so that we would be smart and able to pass our tests and do well in class.

Trust me, "massaging the brain" as patented by my beloved Daddy, really, really works. :P

I quickly learned to ask him for that as my way of showing my affection - just as I asked Mommy Duck for a hug every now and then.

Daddy also told me outrageous stories about himself as I grew up. He always claimed that it was Mommy who stole that first kiss (my Mom loudly objecting in the background - guess whose story I believed? XP ). He also told me that yes, he was an alien from another planet and that Mommy was a vampire (again, outraging my Mom who was, in fact, quite frightened of vampires, hated to watch Dracula or any vampire movie) and thus, I was, indeed a Half-Alien, Half-Vampire. Go figure. XP

He was always proud to see me perform on stage, whether it was a piano recital, a play or singing in a contest or even just at a party. He was, he told me, a frustrated singer and his favorite song was "Moon River" - which he claimed made the girls swoon when he sang it in high school.

Daddy was quiet and shy in new company, cheerful and gregarious with people, once he got to know them, always making sly jokes, since he possessed an EEEBIL sense of humor. He usually stayed at home when not at work, preferring to stretch out and watch the TV. Mom was the one who usually encouraged him to go "out with the boys" on occasion but that was very rare and Dad usually went straight home.

So yeah, Dad was one of those rare, gentle men who didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have a single vice in his body.

Oh, he wasn't perfect. He did have a formidable temper and he could tongue-lash you like you wouldn't believe. We did fight and drive each other crazy at times, him, me, my Mom and the Eggling. All families do - we had our bad times and moments of anger. But he never raised a hand to my mother and I can only remember getting a spanking from him once or twice. Later, when we were saner, we made up. No "I'm sorry's" - just a shared smile, a new joke, a new bout of teasing.

Oh how he loved to tease. He could find a lot of things to tease about a person - and we were all the subject of that teasing. He used to call me his "polar burr" (deliberately mispronouncing "bear"), especially when I gained weight. Delighted in the baby commercials on the TV, saying that was the grandchild he was going to get from me. He could be the world's greatest drama queen - declaiming "Farewel, my family, my country etc. etc." when he felt poorly (usually a bout of flu or his joints ached, years and years before). I said I got my dramatic flair from him.

He told me that I definitely took after him, in looks, personality and intelligence. Of course, if I brought home a lousy grade in Math (yes, it was ALWAYS Math), he'd say I took after Mom (who simply rolled her eyes and reminded him she was usually top in her class). He would never brook any objection about it.

I am so glad that I had told him that I loved him, kissed him, hugged him and brought him a present for Father's Day. So very glad that he knew how much I loved him after all.

Our last shared joke was in hospital. I had just learned from the nurse that Dad's blood type was A+ and I, having also just had my blood tested, knew I was an O. The Eggling, who donated blood for my Dad (I could not - I was poorly at that time too), was A+. I asked Mom if she knew her blood type and Mom plain did not know.

I joked that she'd better be an O or I'd start wondering whether they made a mistake and picked up the wrong baby at the hospital.

Though his speech was slurred, Dad objected, "No. You're my firstborn. You look like your dad." And he told the nurse, "It's her brother, my boy, my youngest, who looks like his mother."

"Yeah," I told Daddy and the nurse happily. "We even have the same feet."

Irony - he'd never been in hospital for an illness (not counting the day he was born) - never been seriously ill, unless you count the occasional cold, flu or the usual typical illnesses that could be solved by staying at home and drinking some meds. Papa was a doctor and so we already knew most of the meds we could take when we felt poorly.

If there was one thing that terrified Dad, it was hospitals. The family already had a cancer scare years before, 1976, when Papa was diagnosed with colon cancer. But he survived it, to see me and the rest of his grandchildren,

Papa was determined to save Daddy, if he could. Papa had survived colon cancer and a heart bypass; Dad could live through this one. And God knows that no parent should ever have to live to bury their child. He is a doctor, retired after so many years, but the doctor came to the fore in the last few days, talking to the physicians, finding out exactly what else they could do because Dad's condition had baffled all of them. His biopsy results came back negative of malignancy, but he had a serious infection. And the pneumonia was hampering his breathing. His stomach could not take in solid food and he had to be fed through a tube in his nose, which Dad utterly loathed. Everything was going wrong and no one had a clue how the hell to stop it.

I have never seen my calm, quiet grandfather cry, until now.

Papa and the doctors decided that Dad would be treated with a round of the toughest antibiotics. If in 48 hours, no improvement was in sight, the invasive and more painful tests had to stop. Dad would be made comfortable, be given all possible medical support and when he went into cardiac arrest, he would not be resuscitated. The kindest of our doctors, the neurologist and the surgeon we were referred to, who told me "Sometimes, it's not a good day to be a doctor" - both quietly told my mother that Dad was very weak and if he went into cardiac arrest, there was no point in electrocuting him, bringing him back to prolong the agony. We knew and understood that Dad did not want that, even as my mother and I wept. The Eggling was already resigned to the possibility.

So we brought the "Do Not Resuscitate" form to Papa, because although Mommy was Dad's wife, we knew it was only right to talk it over with the grieving father and to let him have the option to decide to sign the form. Papa said that Mommy should sign.

The worst day of my life was learning my Dad would die and there was nothing we could do to save him. The worst moment was standing beside my mother, watching her and supporting her as she signed that form.

Yesterday was a day of desperate prayers, which I led, every hour on the hour, rosaries and novenas said through tears, begging God for one more miracle, to bring him back. And whatever happened, we offered Daddy to Him with our breaking hearts, thanking Him for the gift of my father's life, for however long we were going to have him.

There were so many prayers - from family, from relatives, from friends. Today, Dad's old salesman, who remembered his boss with much affection, brought in a powerful charismatic healer to pray over Daddy. I woke to their prayers and joined them.
Last night, when Dad's fever finally broke, we summoned a priest to give him the Last Sacrament - the Anointing of the Sick, in thanksgiving. Whatever happened, we were offering Daddy up to the Lord. One way or the other, Dad's suffering, which we all couldn't bear, had to end.

Before Dad had his surgical biopsy, before we even finally admitted him to the hospital after he had begun to complain of muscle and bone pains, The Eggling also had Daddy receive the Anointing of the Sick, Confession and Communion from the friendly priest at the National Shrine of the Sacred Heart. It eased Daddy's worries and gave him peace.

There were so many people, complete strangers, who came up to donate blood - being as they were friends of the friends we had called in our desperation. And there were, in the beginning, my three officemates, who weren't in my department, who offered to donate blood. I only knew one and knew the others by their faces, but not by their names.

In the last days, I let my exhausted mother sleep and I kept watch over Daddy the whole night, even as he slowly slipped away from us. I talked to Daddy, asked him to fight, just as we were fighting for him, told him I was sorry for every hurt I caused him, told him thank you for being such a good, kind father. I made the promises I knew that I could keep if God granted us that miracle and restored him to full health. I promised that I would tell Daddy I loved him each and every day, no matter what, if God, in His infinite mercy, chose to send him back home to us.

In the meantime, I told Daddy I loved him, Over and over and over, making up for a multitude of stolen years. I sang for him, every song I had ever sung that he had ever heard, singing softly until my throat was sore and aching. I sang him church hymns, old songs, My Funny Valentine, Fly Me to the Moon, Someone to Watch Over Me, Moon River.... all the ballads he loved, all the ones I sang at parties and on stage, making him proud of me.

His heart rate, which was so fast, usually dropped when it did, easing him.

God, he was only 58. Just a few months shy of his birthday in September.

Today, my uncle and brother took me home to rest, catch up with what was happening in the house with our devoted househelp, whose eyes were red and swolen from weeping over Daddy, whom she also called "Tatay" (Filipino for father) with much affection. Mommy would not leave Daddy, not even for a moment. She had promised him that she would not, when Daddy could still recognize us and even tried to get out of the bed, begging us, through his slurred speech and oxygen mask, to take him home, hugging my mother as tightly as he could.

So I went home. I told my mother to rest as much as she could, to take her vitamins and to shower, because we were in danger from catching a whole slew of infections, being as we were in the Intensive Care Unit Room 24-7.

I caught up, did some necessary household matters, slept.

Jane (the househelp), woke me up at 9:00 pm and I sat up with a deep, soul-felt chill. She said I had to hurry, get dressed, grab dinner. Dad's blood pressure was dropping and Mommy told us to get as fast as we could back to the hospital, because she also sensed that the end was nearing.

Dad, who had always been impatient and quick, was usually the first to get ready for work or wherever else we needed to go. He usually was exasperated with my mother, who took forever to get dressed. I found myself begging Daddy aloud "don't hurry, Daddy. Wait for us. Please wait for us."

When we arrived at the hospital, Dad's breathing was erratic and his heart rate was now normal and slowing even more. Mom left me so I could make my final goodbyes all over again. Once more I told him I was sorry, once more I told him I loved him. Once more I told him thank you, that I was proud of him, that he was the best Daddy in the world.

I looked at him and at the medal of the saint pinned to his pillow. St. John Neuman. We were given that by an aunt, saying it was miraculous. Another uncle remarked on Dad's uncanny resemblance to the saint the night before. I gently teased Daddy about him, asking him if he happened to be a saint in a past life.

I sang Moon River to him, prayed with him and when Mom got there, we made a final Rosary.

The nurse came in to feed him. Inexplicably, Dad, who had been so unresponsive, began to wince. His eyes, which had been wide open for most of the time, staring at nothing, eyeballs moving restlessly from right to left, had wet gauze on it to relieve the dryness. When we took off the gauze, his eyes were finally closed. But he was wincing.

i knew this was it. He was lucid. He could hear us. We told him we loved him. Mommy says he opened his eyes briefly and she swore that she could hear, even with a respirator stuck through his mouth, that he said "Mahal kita." (I love you)

I kissed him after Mommy did, told him how much I loved him, to not worry, that we would be fine. I told him everything I had told him over the last few days and his eyebrows raised in that atypical manner that told me "yes, I hear you.'

His expression was of deep pain and I knew it wasn't because of what he physically felt, but because he didn't want to leave us. We told him, reassured him that we would be all right.

The Eggling also said his goodbyes, whispering in his ear, kissing him one last time.

As his heartrate began to flatline, I sang Moon River to him one last time, humming when I forgot the words in my grief and then the last two church hymns, steadying my voice so that it would sound clear and sweet and true in his ears, just as I had always done for him, even through my tears.

I sang to him as he went to his final sleep.

I was so glad to see him smile once more.

And with that, Heaven gained another, funny angel.

***

To everyone who expressed their love, their prayers and their sympathy - my family and I would like to extend our deepest gratitude. Thank you, guys. Thank you.

Comments

[tanyad.livejournal.com]

Stitch,

my heartfelt condolences on your loss. Much love and sympathy from my family to yours.

In peace, love and sympathy.

Tanya

[http://users.livejournal.com/_sabriel/]

My sympathies to you and your family, Darth.

[slumber.livejournal.com]

Oh, love. I'll pray for him, but it seems he's already where he was meant to be all along. *hugs*

[thenotoriousso4.livejournal.com]

Sweetie, I'm so terribly sorry for you loss. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

[ausmac.livejournal.com]

My deepest sympathy, but you are very fortunate to have had such a great dad. I too lost my dad, but I was grateful to have had the chance to thank him for my life, and I know he is with my mum in heaven, and that is where your dad is too. **Much hugs to you and your loved ones.**

[wikdsushi.livejournal.com]

Daddy Alien sounds like the kind of father everyone needs.

If you or your family need anything, LMK. International shipping not a problem. *****HUGS*****

[miasnape.livejournal.com]

My sympathies go to you and your family.
Your father sounds like a wonderful man, and I'm sorry he's no longer in the world, except through your memories.

[turtlespeaks.livejournal.com]

***HUGGLES***

At least he went peacfully, which, really, is the most you can hope for.

I'm so sorry that this had to happen though.

*sniff*more huggles*

[musikologie.livejournal.com]

Your family will continute to be in my thoughts and prayers. Hugs to you.

[the-gwyllion.livejournal.com]

Darth, I am in tears right now. I am so SO sorry for your loss. Your father must've been a wonderful, caring and funny person. I am extremely proud of you for holding on and cherishing your warmest and fondest memories of your father. It's the only way to keep him alive in you and your family's hearts and memories. He will also be in mine too, for having such a beautiful and lovely person such as you. All my condolences and warmest thoughts go out to your family. **Hug you loads** Hang in there my friend. We will always be here with you.

[jedilora.livejournal.com]

Oh, Stitch. My deepest sympathies to you and your family. You all are in my prayers still, for comfort.

[maubast.livejournal.com]

I'm thinking of you.

[kokopoko.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry. *hugs*

[medusalethe.livejournal.com]

*hugs* & deepest sympathy.

[elewyiss.livejournal.com]

Hugs.

[robriki.livejournal.com]

Oh sweetie, hugs and condolences to you and your family.

[cydah.livejournal.com]

condolences and hugs to you and your family.

[mirandamidnight.livejournal.com]

*hugs* I'm sorry.

[shaldana.livejournal.com]

My sympathies to you and your family. How fortunate to be able to be with him until the last second. How he must have loved that!
The best to you in the time to come.

[aliciamasters.livejournal.com]

Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.


Your memories of your father keeps him with us. What a lovely tribute to an obviously great man. I am so sorry for the grieving that your family will do, and the suffering this loss will cause. It sounds like you were blessed to have such a wonderful Daddy in your life. Hopefully, the love he felt for all of you, and you for him, will remain a tangible thing, and will offer you some comfort in this difficult time.

Your comment about Heaven gaining a funny angel reminded me of something from The Little Prince.


"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night... you, only you, will have stars that can laugh!"


And I will picture your DaddyAngel, teasing you from heaven, watching you always. Our thoughts and prayers are with your family.

[sullacat.livejournal.com]

Sweetie, I am so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine what you are going through. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

[gaycrow.livejournal.com]

With much love and sympathy to you and your family, Stitch. All the best.

[sylverflames.livejournal.com]

My prayers are still with you and your family. I'm so sorry for your loss, and I'm glad you've got so many good memories. Pass on my love and sympathy to your family. *hugs*

[byandby.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweetheart. You and your family have my deepest sympathies and condolences. You'll be in my thoughts and prayers.

[murasaki99.livejournal.com]

I'm so very sorry to hear of your father's passing over. You wrote about it so beautifully, he sounds like a wonderful man. My prayers are with you and your family.

[wenelda.livejournal.com]

oh, honey. my love, empathy and good thoughts go out to you and your family. be strong, sweet heart, but don't be afraid to cry. *many hugs*

[els-chan.livejournal.com]

Oh, hon...*hugs*
I'm so sorry.

[snapetoy.livejournal.com]

Much love, Stitch, for you and yours.

[stellahobbit.livejournal.com]

You poor, poor thing.

I'm really very sorry for you and your family. I'm glad you were there to spend time with him at the end.

Thinking of you *big hugs*

[starstar89.livejournal.com]

my deepest sympathies to you and yours, Stitch. *megahugs*

[delcj.livejournal.com]

as someone who also lost her father, i sincerely sympathize. condolences to your whole family.

[h311ybean]

Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. :( I had prayed and hoped that your dad would make it.

*numerous big, deep hugs*

stitch

[kagyakusha.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry for your loss. Your dad sounds like a wonderful man.

from one Daughter to another ....

[calanor.livejournal.com]

I was five years old when I lost my father.... My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Redman took me off to the side.. when I returned to school. She told me all I had was my memories...and hold on to them tight... And I have... So I'll pass that piece of advice along...

Remember that smile.. when the day seems long and tired.. remember that smile...

My thoughts are with you Darth...

[femmequixotic]

Oh, sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. I'm so sorry. *hugs you hard and holds you tight*

Hold those memories close, honey. Hold them close and treasure them and know that they will bring you more comfort than you can ever imagine in upcoming days.

You and your family and your Daddy are in my heart and my thoughts and my prayers tonight.

[joannindiw.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry.

[novemberfalls.livejournal.com]

(this is thepinkangel under a friend's LJ name)

Stitch,
I cannot exress the sorrow and the sympathy I feel. I'm crying with you, and for you, for your family, and for your Dad, whom I would have loved to have met. I'm also a little scared... He's the same age as my mom.
It was so fast, but he knew how much you all loved him. He knew.
I will do everything in my power to give you some comfort. Expect a lot of gifts. The healing process takes a long time. I'm willing to do whatever I can to make it more bearable.
All my love and hopes are with you,
Sam

[lherelenfeline.livejournal.com]

I wish I knew what to say and not be banal about it, but I can't.
[hugs]
I share in your grief, and if you need anything... drop a line.

[leairan.livejournal.com]

My deepest sympathies and condolences to you and your family.

[mmariep2.livejournal.com]

Its always hard to loose a loved one, my prayers are with you and your family. ::hugs::

[sinick.livejournal.com]

I wept when I read your words. Tou've given us all a glimpse of a wonderful man. For what it's worth, you'll be in my thoughts.

[gillianinoz.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. I can't imagine what you and your family are going through.

All my sympathies,

Gillian

[proserpina-kore.livejournal.com]

My deepest sympathies.

[somniesperus.livejournal.com]

He sounds like a wonderful man. Thanks for sharing him with us. I'm so sorry for your loss. *hugs*

[athenakt.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Your dad sounds like he was a wonderful person. I'm glad that you have so many wonderful memories of him and that he was with his loved ones when he passed on...

[amanuensis1.livejournal.com]

Dearest Stitch,

Remember that you had him with you and that you always told him how much he meant to you and that you loved him, during all those years. They're no substitute for the years you still yearn to have him with you, but at least you know that he knew and that there's nothing you need to replay.

You don't get over it, but you come to terms with it being what you expect, not having him around any more.

I'm so sorry.

[(Anonymous)]

What a beautiful and moving tribute to your father, Stich, and how happy you must have all made him, you, your family, and your friends, by being there to ease his way out of this life and into the next. God bless you all, and please accept my condolences for your loss.

[iulia_linnea.livejournal.com]

I thought I was logged in when I posted the above, forgive me. I'll be praying for you and yours, Stitch. ---Iulia Linnea

[ellid.livejournal.com]

I am so very sorry for your loss...I lost my mother several years ago to Alzheimer's, and the ache never completely goes away. Please accept this lurker's condolences.