Dear Daddy,

Dad & Mom Parrott and me
1971
 

Dear Daddy,

I kept my promise to you today. Do you remember when we spoke a couple days ago and you made me promise to not take any overtime this weekend because I had been sick and you thought I needed to rest? Well, at 3:21 this morning my work called and the phone woke me up but when I reached to answer it I remembered my promise to you so I let it go to voice mail.  Then I smiled, said, "There you go dad!" and turned over to go back to sleep. Unfortunately I found myself wide awake so I set off to tackle taking down the Christmas tree and getting the house back in order.

About 4 am I thought about calling you, sure that you'd be awake and just wanting to hear your voice. Then I decided against it because I didn't want the phone to wake up the rest of the family. Oh daddy, how I wish I'd made that call.

At 9:12 Missy called me crying. She told me I needed to get dressed and drive safely to Washington County hospital.  I immediately thought something had happened to Hobbs, but when I asked what was wrong she started sobbing and all I could understand was "Dad" and "we did CPR."  I remember telling her that I was on my way and running up the stairs then pounding on DJ's door screaming for him to wake up, to get Brandi up, that something had happened to you and they were doing CPR.

I remember grabbing my jeans and shirt, intentionally choosing a shirt that Brandi didn't like on me, thinking if you died I was going to burn it. And then I ran out the door.  My hands were shaking so badly that at first I couldn't open the car door, it felt like hours before I was able to get into the car, but I know it was probably only a few seconds.

I called Milton, Lynda and Mom Oakley, trying to be calm but hearing hysterical screams coming from me instead.

I don't think I've ever been that panicked daddy, I was screaming at the top of lungs "Daddy don't die, Please God don't let my daddy die" over and over. I drove a quickly as I could and I know people must have thought I was crazy...screaming, crying, beating my fist on the steering wheel, but all I could think about was getting to you.

At 9:40 I heard your voice above my screams saying, "Calm down sis, you won't do anyone any good if you crash, slow down, it's okay, slow down."  The strangest thing happened then daddy, I was suddenly and completely calm.  Oh I was still upset, still worried, but I felt...I don't know, I guess the best word would be peaceful.  I knew at that moment you were gone and yet I felt you there in the car with me, calming me.  I swear daddy, I heard your voice.

When I got to the hospital they put me in the "quiet room" which I knew was a bad sign. The doctor who spoke to me was so kind, and he gently explained what they had done in their attempts to revive you, but then he said there were no brain waves, and even though your pace maker was still working every time they paused CPR there was no heartbeat.  He told me that as hard as they tried they had been unable to save you. Then they took me to a room so I could see you one last time.

You looked so peaceful as I sat there holding your hand. You were still warm when I kissed your forehead and stroked your hair.  The nurse in the room was so kind, rubbing my back as I cried, handing me tissue after tissue. She never rushed me to leave, never made me feel anything but her compassion at our loss.  She told me how hard everyone had worked to save you, how the paramedics were drenched in sweat from performing CPR for so long.

I could hear you again saying "Sis, it's okay, I'm here, but you need to get yourself together, mom and the kids will be here soon and I need you to be strong for them.

Do you remember how you always told us if you died to play Dueling Banjos and if your toe didn't start tapping it meant you were really gone?  We honored your request and played it for you, mom holding my phone up to your ear so you could hear it and everyone staring at your feet, waiting for even the smallest tapping of the toes.  There was no tapping and I think that's when it hit us that you were really gone.

Missy told me what had happened that morning, how you had been watching the news and drinking a cup of coffee, and then how you were gone so quickly. She told me how she and Danny had immediately started CPR while mom called 9-1-1.

I remembered the conversation we had after you learned Brandi needed a pancreas transplant and how you told me you wanted to be an organ donor when you died.  I didn't think you'd fill out the form like I asked you to...but you did, so that made the process a lot easier for us. We donated your organs daddy, just like you wanted done.  Because of you two people will be able to see again, burn victims will be able to heal, people with leukemia will get the bone marrow transplants they need to survive.  It helps us so much knowing that part of you will live on and help other people. 

I have spent hours today thinking about your life, your achievements.  How you were the first person in our family to ever graduate college.  How you gave up your dream of working at the United Nations to take a better paying job at General Motors so you could provide for your family.

I remember singing with you in the truck whenever we did errands and how well our voices harmonized.  I remember the way you looked when you got to the hospital after my car accident, how your hands shook as you told me you'd passed what remained of the car and how you didn't think anyone could have survived the wreckage.

I remember the night you stay up all night with me studying for the U.S. Constitution test and how proud you were when I passed.

You always made me feel so smart, telling me I could do anything I set my mind to and encouraging me to live up to my full potential.  I remember working along side you in the garden and riding on the tractor with you as you plowed the fields.

The thing I most looked forward to every year was you calling me on my birthday and singing Happy Birthday to me.  You never missed a year but after cell phones and voice mail came along I never answered because I wanted to have it recorded.  You knew I'd always call you right back and we always have the same conversation with you asking me how it felt to be however many years old and me laughing and instead of answering asking how it felt to be the father of a however many year old woman.

I remember the conversation we had just a couple weeks ago when you pointed out I had a big birthday coming up and asking if this was the year I would answer the phone. I assured you it was not, that I loved having you singing to me on tape so I could replay it over and over again.

I remember the terrible habit you had of simply hanging up a phone when we were done talking without even saying goodbye, and after telling you how much it bothered me how you NEVER ended another phone conversation with me without telling me goodbye and that you loved me.

You were the best father, always showing each of us how much you loved us every day.  You sacrificed so much for your family but I never heard you complain. You had the uncanny ability to make each of your children feel like they were your favorite, even though we we knew that you loved each of us independently yet equally.

You taught me to be brave, to be hard working, to respect other people's opinions even when I didn't agree with them.  You taught me that sometimes the best thing a parent can do for their child is say "No."

You loved mom and all of her quirkiness so much. Forty years of marriage, wow...that's such an accomplishment.  I remember you grilling me for different ideas on where to take her for the surprise trip you were planning and I wonder if you ever told her your plans, how you wanted to give her that memory.

I love you daddy, I love you so much and it's killing me to think of never talking with you again while I'm driving to and from work, to never have you call and check on Brandi, to never hear you laugh over some of the crazy things Bella says.

Don't worry about mom, Missy, Jimmy, Charlie, Danny and I will get her through this, we'll get each other through it.  We'll cry and we'll laugh and we'll spend hours reminiscing about our time with you and the honor of having you for our father.

So daddy, you go visit with Pa and Granny some more. Tell them we love them and miss them just as much, and that someday we'll all be together again.

Until then my dearest father, rest in peace and remember how very much I love you.

Tanya