Always Have, Always Will

This is not a current picture of my dad.  It is from April 2007, but it is how I want to remember Dad.

He was so happy that Brandt would let him hold him.

My dad died last night.  Although he has been struggling with significant health problems for the past five months, his death came as a shock.  He had a heart attack at home, was rushed to the hospital and stabilized, but he had another heart attack that took his life.  Fortunately, as a family we were all able to be with him and express our love to him one last time.  Unfortunately, he's gone.

We went over to my parent's house on Sunday afternoon and had a lovely visit with Mom and Dad.  We laughed about funny things the children have been doing as we watched them run laps through Dad's room.  It was nice to be with both of them and enjoy time to talk together.  On Tuesday evening, I went over again to be with Dad while Mom and Mikayla went to a movie.  As I left, I kissed him goodbye and told him I loved him.  He told me he loved me too.

Yesterday I took the children to the zoo, something I may blog about in a day or two.  I came home and went visiting teaching, then had Kent's parents come for dinner.  And then I got a call that Dad was being rushed to the hospital.  The day ended with his death.  How does a day begin so normally and end so horribly? 

Following dialysis yesterday, Dad came home during a tremendous thunderstorm.  He got wet.  Mom began to prepare some dinner and went downstairs to get Dad some dry clothing.  When she came back upstairs she found Dad not breathing and with no pulse.  Tadd Cox, next door neighbor and EMT, worked on him, and Dr./Bishop Joe Glenn who lives across the street joined the efforts.  Dad's pulse returned, though it was not strong, and he was breathing again, and Joe thought he must have had a stroke.  The ambulance came, Dad was taken to the hospital, and we all gathered.  

Dad was taken in for a cat scan, and while there he went into v tach twice, a condition where the heart races with irregular beats causing a heart attack.  He came out of the v tach, but the doctor told us that if they couldn't get the heart regulated, it could happen again.  It did, but not until after we were all able to see him.  I am grateful that each of us was with my dad at the end.  He could hardly speak, but he said he was scared and didn't want to be in the hospital.  We assured him that we loved him and that we were there for him.  Eugene and Christopher administered to him, blessing with him calm and peace, something we all needed.

Dad died at 10:30.  We sat in his room until midnight, talking and laughing, praying and crying.  It was hard to see him lying there, knowing he wasn't really there anymore.  It is still hard.  It will likely keep being hard for some time to come.  I know Dad is in a better place, that he is pain free, healthy, and happy.  I know he lived a good life and has returned to the presence of our Heavenly Father, his parents, and may other family members and friends who have gone before him.  But he is still gone, and although I know I will see him again, I will miss him.  

My dad has struggled with many challenges throughout his life.  His father died when he was only four and he didn't remember him at all.  He was sealed to his parents a couple years ago, and I am confident they met him on the other side of the veil.  I'm certain that was a joyful reunion.  He joined the LDS Church when he was nineteen after being the only one in his family to be interested in religious things.  There were periods of his life when he struggled with activity, but he was believing and set an example to me of perseverance and continued striving at self-improvement.  He wanted to have a closer relationship with Jesus Christ and was working to be more faithful.  Mom and Dad divorced when I was twelve, but they remarried each other when I was fifteen.  Although there was some conflict in my parent's marriage (just like all marriages), Mom and Dad were working on being better to each other and with each other.  I know my dad loved my mom.

Dad loved me too.  Although he told me this often, he also showed me in his actions.  One poignant memory expresses this so clearly.  During my freshman year of high school, I played basketball.  Our team was terrible.  We won one game through the whole season.  In spite of how bad we were, Dad came to every single game and brought my brothers with him.  My coach was an idiot and never got my name right.  He called me "Demartinez," not DeMartini.  Dad would cheer us on and yell, "Put in Demartinez!"  In subsequent years of high school, when I didn't play basketball but was more involved in choir and drama, he came to every performance, even though I know it was painful to him to have to sit through our productions.  He came because he loved me.

In recent years, at every chance, Dad has wanted to be with us--all of us--in the pool, around the kitchen table sharing a meal or playing games, or just visiting.  He loved having his grandchildren around him; he adores those children.  I am sad that my children will not know my Dad, his humor, his generosity, his tenderness, because although Dad looks fairly scary and can be gruff, he is tender and has such a soft heart.

Dad had a wonderful idea for a children's book, an idea I want to see to fruition.  The title is Always Have, Always Will.  As Mikayla was growing up, Dad would say to her, as he kissed her goodnight, "Always have," meaning "I have always loved you."  Mikayla would reply, "Always will."  I know my Dad has always loved me, and that he always will, and I love him the same way.  I will miss him.