One of my fears came true today. When Sharla came home she checked the messages and found 2 messages that my brother had called an one call from my uncle. I had taken the kids to the park today and then was working outside building a faux castle facade for an entry way into a girls camp that my oldest daughter is going to tomorrow. I called them back and left voice mail to call me back on my cell.
Around 6pm got a call from my uncle Martin and my older brother telling me about the passing of my father. My brother found my dad dead in my father's home, under the stairwell with bruises and abrasions on his body wearing only his under ware around 2:30pm EST. My uncle had last talked to my dad last Wed. when he went over to get a trailer he stored at my dad's house. He said my dad wasn't looking so good and his complexion was grey. On Thurs. he checked in on him and there was no answer. He went over to the neighbors who has a key and asked if they had seen him. They said no and said why don't you check on him. He found him sleeping in his bed like he had been so many times before when my uncle checked on him. This morning he went over again and went through the same routine, except he couldn't find my dad. The car was in the garage but my dad was no where to be found in the house. My uncle Martin then called my brother and left a message saying call him immediately. When my brother returned his call, my uncle said that John needed to go and find him or file a missing person's report. My brother and his wife Kim, went over to the house. Kim searched outside and John searched inside. First the upper floor and he found his watch and wallet. Then went downstairs. As he went down the stairs he noticed that some cans of paint had been knocked over but went on looking through the basement with no sign of him. Then as he was going upstairs again he looked under the stairwell where the cans of paint were he saw my dad's legs sticking out. He was lying on his back on the concrete, hands folded on his stomach, stone cold and stiff. He immediately called the police and then left the house.
The police did an investigation and found no forced entry or robbery but were puzzled by the location of where his body was found. My brother had to explain all the things that had been going on with my dad's alcholism worsening in the last 6 years after his retirement. Finally the coroner's initial conclusion was that my dad probably fell down the stairs and then crawled under the stairs.
Tomorrow my brother is going to make the funeral arrangements. The kicker is that last Monday I sent in my Canadian passport to be renewed which also had my green card in it for identification. Tmw I have to call the Consulate and find out how I can get back into Canada and once I am there, how to get back home-great timing!!! I am confident about working it out but its just another thing I don't want to deal with right now.
When my brother called he filled me in on all the details which I listed. The last time my brother talked to him was 3 weeks ago and apparently they had a good heart to heart. But my brother noticed that glossy look in my dad's eyes as he sat drinking whatever it was he was drinking. Honestly I can't remember the last time I talked to my dad. I know it was sometime around Christmas. He may have surprisingly called on Gabby's birthday in February but I know he missed my birthday in January. We did send him a birthday card for his birthday May 25th and I have 2 father's day cards on my desk waiting to be sent. I have left him 3 or 4 messages since Christmas of which he never called me back. What I do know is that every time I did talk to him, I made sure to say 'I love you' not knowing the day when I would get the phone call I did today.
How do I feel: A little regret but mostly sad. Regret because I have lived so far away from my dad ever since I was 19. Not that we had a good relationship while I was growing up which fell apart when I left home but there were a couple of times where he came down to stay with my family where we got to spend a significant amount of time together renovation the home we were living in at the time. Regret that I wasn't around to drag him out to the golf course. Or regret that I couldn't relieve my brother having to deal with him for the last 6 years while my dad's ability to cope with not working 70 hours a week was found in drowning his liver in a bottle. I will always wonder if I lived closer, would it have made a difference?
I feel sad about these things too but I feel sad that my dad helped those around him but couldn't help himself. He was very kind and generous, a good guy and could talk to anyone in that heavy Yugoslavian accent. I remember when he was helping me (more like I was helping him) build an addition on my home. When the building inspector came around my dad talked his ear off telling him stories about all the projects he had done throughout his career. When it came time for subsequent inspections, the inspector just signed them off without even looking at the work because he knew that my dad had done a great job. Another time after we had built the rafters for the addition my dad was up on top of the rafters, 23 feet off the ground, standing on this make shift scaffolding he had built out of 2x4's. Then he would come down and look at the plans and was mumbling something about the rafters not being level and being off 4 inches. At first I thought to myself, here is a man who has built everything under the sun-how did he screw up like that? After about 15 mins of this I finally asked him what he was mumbling about and how we should fix it. Then he clearly said that over the 17 feet of rafter, the ends were 1/4 inches off of level. I had to laugh not only at myself for hearing 4inches but at him for being such a perfectionist. So what happened after he retired...I think he was so used to working so hard all his life that when it came time to retire and relax, he didn't know what to do with himself.
I don't know what demons my dad battled and what would cause him to turn away his family and friends and take comfort abusing himself in alcohol. This I do know that after quitting Dreamworks almost a year ago and being at home with my kids, that I do have a lot of time to think and ponder not only about the present and the future but also on the past. There are days where I reflect on things I have done in the past that I am not proud of, or regrets of things I did or didn't do, or things that I wish I would have happened that either didn't or didn't happen the way I wanted them to. When I have dwelt on those thoughts and feelings there is a darkness that overshadows my mind. Fortunately I don't drink and I fear that if I did, I would be just like my father.
I find it ironic that on the day I found out my father died I was building something for my kids and firing up the bar-b-que. After my parents separated when I was 17, I used to go over to his house on Sunday's where we would sit and watch tv together and usually have a bar-b-que. Even though it was only the 2 of us, I remember he would always make an overabundance of food that would feed 12. I remember asking who else was coming over and he would say 'just me'. Then we would dig in and I would eat as much as I could never even getting close to eating all he made. At dinner, Maggie my 5 year old gave me a hug after I gave a tear filled blessing on the food and my family and said 'dad, I love you, sorry about your dad!'.
It's been almost 13 years since I have stepped foot in my dad's house and almost 10 years since I have seen my brother face to face. I am not looking forward to a reunion under these circumstances but maybe the loss of my father will bring the rest of the family closer together, including my own.
