I’m really sorry, because this is going to be extremely depressing. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my father. I was talking to my mom last night and she was telling me that my nanny’s friend died of a heart attack while she was sitting there with him and his wife. And she told me the story in detail, which in turn, made me have flashbacks of the day my daddy had his final heart attack. If I don’t get my feelings out I’ll go crazy so that’s what I’m doing.
On 10/25/99 my mother, my exboyfriend, and myself were at my doctor appointment. Don’t ask why my boyfriend was there, I really don’t remember. We were sitting in the waiting room when my mom got a call on her cell. Immediately when she answered I knew something wasn’t right. Her face got white as a ghost and she kept saying “ok”. Finally, she said “what hospital”. She hung up and told me that daddy had had a heart attack and they were taking him to Chippenham Hospital. Now we were at Johnston Willis Hospital which is literally like 5-10 minutes from Chippenham. Unfortunately we were also on Midlothian Tpke during rush hour traffic…..not an easy commute. My mom was freaking out so my boyfriend drove. We got to the hospital and they wouldn’t let us see him. When they finally did he was unconscious and hooked up to everything under the sun. His heart was still beating on his own but he needed help breathing. They said they were moving him to CICU (cardiac intensive care unit). So we go up there and wait in the waiting room. By then my brother and his wife were there. My best friend had also come up, since she was/is really close to my family. We waited and waited. They said he was comfortable for now and we could see him. He had a lot of internal bleeding that had nowhere to go. So it was coming out of his eyes and mouth. It was so hard for me (at 17 years old) to see my daddy like that. He was always so strong and my protector. Now he looked so weak and frail. And mind you, he was only 50 years old. The nurses said we had to leave, that they were going to perform all sorts of tests. So by then it was late, we all huddled in the waiting room and slept on and off. Nothing new, the test results woudn’t be available til the next day. Waiting like that is the worst feeling. I can’t even explain it. But it’s like every second feels like a lifetime.
The next day I had to go home to get my mom’s medicine and some clothes. While I was gone I stopped by my school to let my guidance counseler know what was going on. On the way back up to the hospital I had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. Well, even worse. When I got to the hospital, my mom told me that they were taking him for a test to see if he had any brain activity. A few hours later, the doc came and told us that he did not have any brain activity at all, he was brain dead. Before any of us could say anything he said they could do the test one more time the next day to see if there were any changes, but he didn’t want to get our hopes up, he didn’t think there would be any changes. We decided to wait and have the test done again. So the waiting began again. Some time in the middle of the night the nurse came in to tell us that he had a fever of 105. And they were trying to get it down. A few hours later they told us to go see him. They got the fever down but apparently they thought he was going then. But he didn’t. We all sat in the room and held his hands for the rest of the night.
The next day, he went for all the tests. They came back that he was indeed brain dead. My daddy didn’t have a living will, but my mom was his power of attorney. So she asked us what we should do. We all decided that he shouldn’t have to live like that, he wouldn’t want to. We were going to cut the machine off at midnight. All day we prayed, paced, held his hand, and prayed some more. I just wanted him to wake up and say “Gotcha!!!” As mad as would have been at him, it would have been ok. But no. He looked so helpless, so pail, like he was already dead.
At 11:15pm on 10/27/99, my family and I gathered in his room to pray, and be with him before it was time. We kept talking to him, telling him how much we loved him, and that it was ok. I just wanted him to squeeze my hand, wink at me, twitch his nose….something…anything. I just kept staring at him as I held his hand. I really wanted to curl next to him and have him cradle me like a baby. I wanted a hug, a kiss. I knew my daddy was about to leave me, and I wanted that final embrace. Around 11:30 we noticed his face was getting really red. Then his chest started jumping. I didn’t know what was going on. Inside my mind I was freaking out, wanting to shake him so he’d wake up. I didn’t want him to be hurting. All of a sudden his eyes popped open and he was staring at the ceiling. Then his eyes got all huge, literally like they were going to pop out of his head. He started shaking and then his eyes rolled back into his head. That was it…..his heart stopped. He passed away at 11:38pm, 22 minutes before we were supposed to turn the machine off. To me, it was like he knew how hard that was going to be for us ultimately ending his life, and he didn’t want us to have to do it. That last 5 minutes before he died all we could do was cry, tell him we loved him and hold his hand. The moment he died I got his horrible feeling, I can’t really explain it. But I honestly thought I was going to die. That’s why I say a part of me went with him. After the fact all the nurses came in, my brother and his wife sat on the windowsill and cried, my mom was still talking to daddy and stroking his hair. All I could do was stand there and stare, I think I was in shock. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even think I was breathing. Then out of nowhere it was like I was shoved back into reality. I knew I couldn’t be in that room anymore. I turned around and started running. I ran out into the waiting room. My best friend, boyfriend, and some family friends were out there. The started asking me questions. All I could do is mumble, Daddy is gone. Then I ran to the bathroom. I had to get sick. I just sat on the floor and cried. I must have been in there a while because my best friend got a janitor to unlock the bathroom door. The rest of that night was a blur. I wanted to just curl up somewhere, go to sleep, and never wake up. I know I went home, someone put me in my bed, and other than that I don’t know.
The next morning when I woke up, my nanny was there and my mom was sitting at the table drinking her coffee. From the back the view looked just like every morning. In my mind I was hoping that I had just dreamed everything. Then my mom turned around and her face was pale, her eyes were blood shot. She told me to get dressed, we had to go plan the funeral. I knew right then and there I had to be strong. My mom has severe depression, and I didn’t want to upset her anymore. So I sucked it up and did what I had to. Looking back, I know I probably looked hard, like I didn’t care. No, inside I was dying. I hated everyone who had both parents, I hated everyone who constantly bitched about their parents. I didn’t care. I just hated everyone. I wanted to crawl in the casket with my dad and be buried with him. Nothing mattered anymore……until I looked at my mom and how much she needed me. So yeah, maybe I looked callous and uncaring, but that is so far from the truth!
We buried Daddy on Halloween. Seems fitting, huh? Not really, not to me. For the days and weeks that followed I was determined that my mom would NOT see me cry. I’d cry at night when I went to sleep, I’d cry in the shower, hell, I even cried at school. Just to get it out. But never around my mom. It was so hard. Even now, it’s still hard. My daddy wasn’t around for my graduation, my wedding, or my kids’ births. It kills me to know that they will never know their Grandpa Ray.
Sometimes, I’ll hear a song and it’ll remind me of him, or I see someone in the store that reminds me of him. I don’t really talk about it anymore, I don’t want to bring anyone down. That’s why I decided to write this blog, just to release some feelings. My daddy was everything to me. I held him up so high, he could never do wrong by me. I can’t even remember one time I was mad at him. Even when he punished me, he made me know I’d done wrong, but he loved me anyway. He was and still is my hero!!
For:
Ray Massey, Sr.
9-1-49 to 10-27-99
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