Not Today

Today I added another bracelet to those I wear daily. I'm not a big fan of jewelry of any type, but these bracelets are special because they represent important aspects of my life.

 The first is my blue CURE DIABETES that I wear in honor of Brandi and all the diabetic children of my friends, my father, brothers, and best friend.  Anyone who has ever spoken with me knows I live and breathe diabetes education, advocacy and raising money to fund research that will provide better medications, treatment options and (hopefully) a CURE for our children and the millions of children like them.  I don't ever want another family to go what we've gone through, I don't ever want to read that another person has died due to complications of diabetes.

My second bracelet is a green DONATE LIFE bracelet that the members of our family were given when my father's organs were donated following his death. I have been a registered organ donor for many years, long before it became popular with the general public. I believe so strongly in organ donation that a little over 5 years ago I became a living organ donor and gave one of my kidneys to a wonderful woman who has since became a great friend. It still remains the thing I'm most proud of.

The third bracelet is a black bracelet that reads NOT TODAY and it represents my commitment to the police officers, firefighters, and paramedics who I work with everyday. I take my job very seriously - I must, I've been doing it for 30 years. Of course my goal is to help citizens when they're in a crisis, but my vow is to not have any harm come to those who have live their lives to serve their community, those who risk their lives for strangers, those who face death everyday for people who don't appreciate them. Everybody loves firefighters, and rightfully so. Paramedics are appreciated by every sick person they treat, but cops..well, a large portion of the population hate them and an even larger portion fear them.  Are there "bad" cops? Sure, just as there are "bad" doctors, teachers, and garbage men. EVERY profession has it's rotten apples, and law enforcement is no different. But after three decades in emergency services I can tell you that for every 1 bad cop you hear about there's about 30,000 good ones that never make the news.  You'll never see a news story about how they run from call to call for their entire shift. You'll never read a newspaper article telling you that even though their wages are so low that many qualify for food stamps they still put on the uniform every day and risk their lives for you. I love these men and women as I love my children. They're in my heart even when they drive me crazy and piss me off. My goal every time I step foot through the doors of our 9-1-1 center to make sure these officers go home to their families at the end of their shift. An  officer getting hurt or killed?? NOT TODAY! A firefighter injured as they rush into a burning building? NOT TODAY! A paramedic harmed by a violent patient? NOT TODAY!

So the next time you get pulled over and start muttering something along the lines of, "Don't these damn cops have REAL crimes to solve?" just remember, traveling at speeds above the posted speed limit is a violation of state law, which makes it a REAL crime. Careless and imprudent drivers cause thousands of death each year, so YES, they are doing their job.

When it takes them three hours to get to your house because your mailbox was damaged or your license plates were stolen it's not because they're sitting somewhere eating donuts, it's because they're busting their asses working the rapes, robberies, meth labs, overdoses, child abuses, suicidal people, etc....you know...the "real" crimes.

But I thought she was better!

 

 

Yesterday I created my first ever "movie" on Window Live Movie Maker. Nothing fancy, just a collection of family photos to tell Brandi's story.  I wanted to put a link to the movie on my JDRF Ride to Cure page so people who we didn't know our family could get a better idea of my inspiration to ride, kind of the "a picture is worth a thousand words" concept.

Within minutes of posting a link on my Facebook page I started getting messages, SEVERAL messages from people who thought Brandi was no longer sick, which is definitely NOT the case.

Brandi asked me a few months ago to stop making so many posts about her. She didn't want to be seen as the "poor sick girl"and she definitely doesn't want anyone's pity. I understood and immediately stopped posting her day to day status. A person has a right to privacy and I didn't want to violate hers.

I was actually kind of surprised that Brandi agreed to let me upload the video, but she knows how important the Ride to a Cure is to me and how important the money I'll raise is to fund research for a cure, so she sucked it up and told me to go ahead.

Brandi is still very sick, she still lives the majority of her life in bed and she still needs a transplant.
Her diabetic alert dog has been a great tool to help us stay on top of Brandi's blood sugar levels but she still uses an obscene amount of insulin, and although Hope has become part of our family she is still a tool, not a cure.

I will do everything in my power to raise money to find a cure for diabetes, because a cure is what's needed,  not only Brandi but for Liam, Nettie, Cameron, Abbey, Gracie, Gus, Jack, Lauren... ALL of my friend's diabetic kids and every other diabetic as well. I'll walk until my feet bleed,  I'll ride until I fall off my bike in exhaustion, but I won't give up.

Ever!

No Words

I am overwhelmed. 

It doesn't happen often, but right now, at this very minute I am feeling absolutely overwhelmed and it's all because I was given one simple task:

Share what it's like for you or your loved one to live with Type 1 Diabetes.

Having diabetes is hard. Ask anyone who has diabetes and they'll tell you having to constantly watch what you eat and measure every carbohydrate you consume is a pain. Pricking you finger multiple times a day and taking shots throughout the day so you don't die isn't a great way to live, but at least it gives them a chance to live...so they do it. But let me tell you about something equally hard, being the parent of a person with Type 1 Diabetes.

When I held my daughter and looked into her beautiful face the first time I felt a love so strong and fierce that I knew instantly I would do anything to protect and nurture her. I imagined her first words, her first steps, her first day of school, her first dance, her first time falling in love, college, marriage, having children of her own.  I never in my worse nightmare imagined her losing her eyesight, having a heart attack, watching her as she lay in a coma, having seizures, having her internal organs become damaged so severely that she couldn't eat, or pee,or have a bowel movement without medical intervention.  I never thought the "fun years" of her life when she should be moving out of our home and into a college dorm would actually be spent laying in a hospital bed fighting for her life. I never, EVER imagined my 22 year old daughter sitting me down and telling me what music she wanted played at her funeral, or if she wanted to be buried or cremated.

If I knew then what Brandi's life was going to be like I never would have become pregnant...NOT because I wish she'd never been born, NOT because of the unbelievable financial burden, NOT because I don't love her with every fiber of my being, but because I DO love her so much and would never have knowingly subjected my child to the hell that she has to live with every single moment. For five years I have watched my daughter fight to stay alive, I've watched her in tremendous pain and I've seen the fear in her eyes. I watched her suffer and I haven't been able to take any of it away.

That's why I'm going to participate in the 2013 Ride to Cure, because it's something I CAN do to help her and millions of others whose lives have been disrupted by this monster we call Diabetes.  I want to feel the physical pain of training, I'll use it as a reminder of the pain she feels every day. I want the sweat to drip off me because it reminds me of the sweat that drips off the diabetic child when their blood sugar reaches dangerously low levels.  I want feel the burn in my legs because it's a reminder of the burning sensation they feel when they have insulin injected into their body. I want to feel angry and overwhelmed when my body doesn't want to ride one more mile because my daughter feels angry and overwhelmed when her blood sugars are high and won't come down.

I'm suppose to share what it's like for our family but how do I find the words to express what I feel as I sit next to my comatose daughter doing nothing more than holding her hand, staring at her face, pleading with God to let her get better and offering my life in exchange for hers?  How can I make people feel the shock we felt when we were told her body was resistant to the insulin needed to keep her alive? How can I make them understand what it's like to be told your daughter will die without a pancreas transplant or the frenzied feeling I had as I called hospital after hospital who did these transplants and was told by every one of them that she didn't fit the criteria to be placed on their transplant waiting list because she was too sick? How do I relay the feeling of being told by our insurance company that even when we get her "well" enough to receive a transplant they won't pay for the surgery because they've deemed it "experimental"?

How do I communicate the experience of being told diabetes has caused such severe neuropathies to your child's internal organs that her body no longer is able to absorb the nutrients in the food she eats, or what it's like to have your daughter tell you her heart feels like it's going to explode because it's beating so fast? How do I make them understand what it's like to watch your healthy, robust child become a walking skeleton of only 93 pounds?

How can I possibly make people understand what it's like to have your grandchild cling to you crying as the paramedics load her mother into an ambulance, or trying to find the right words when this precious child ask if her mommy is going to die?

How do I make people feel what it's like to sit in a dark room sobbing in despair at the thought of losing the person who makes my life worth living?

There are simply no words.

So instead I'm going to ask my friends and family to click on the link below and make a donation to my Ride to a Cure page. $1, $5, $100...as much as you can give, every single dollar helps me reach my goal. I've listed $2000 as my goal but if I'm being truthful I have to tell you that's not what I want to raise...I want to raise $50,000. I want to make a difference not only for Brandi but for the diabetic children of my friends and people I've never met. I want to help wipe this disease off our planet and have it only remembered in history books.

Please help me make a difference and then share this blog with all of your friends, and ask them to share it with all of their friends. Help me get the word out, help me get Brandi's story out.

Help me make a difference.

http://www2.jdrf.org/site/TR/Ride/JDRFNationalRides?px=1378497&pg=personal&fr_id=2244

There's nothing so bad...

When I was a young girl my father always told me, “Don’tbelieve anything you hear and only half of what you see.”  I didn’t understand what he was trying totell me so one day he took me to a house, parked across the street and asked me what color the house was.  I looked atthe house and told him it was green.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Looking at him like he had lost his mind I assured him the house was green.

“Why do you think it’s green?”  he asked.

“Umm…because it’s GREEN. I’m looking at the house daddy, I know what the color green looks likeand that house is definitely green.”

“So because you’re looking at one side of a house you’re saying the whole house is green?  Whatif the  back is white, or pink, or blue? What if that part that you can’t see isn’t anything like the part you can see? Looks can be deceiving sis, what you think you see and your perception of what is true isn’t always accurate.  Is the house green…maybe, but then again maybe it’s not. The important part isto step  back from the moment, look at a situation from different angles, get all the information you possibly can and then you can make a definite statement, because sometimes things are not as they appear.”

I’ve carried that lesson with me through life, sometimes I’ve followed it and sometimes I’ve run head long into believing something and later found out it was not true.

The other thing my father instilled in me was the importance of honesty. He believed a person’s word was their honor and as far as I know he never lied to me…EVER (not counting birthdays and Christmas of course.)  If something could hurt me he just never brought it up, but if I came to him and asked he would tell me the truth.  Often the truth was not what I wanted to hear, but it was delivered in a loving and gentle way and we would talk about it in depth, explore our feelings about the topic, and  find out in the great scheme of things exactly how important this information was.

My first mother –in-law was the same as my dad and I wouldoften hear her say, “There’s nothing so bad that a lie won’t make it worse.” Andshe was right.

A few weeks after my first husband died I received a call from my mother-in-law.  We had remained close after Denny and I had divorced and spoke with each other on an almost daily basis, but I knew something was wrong by the tone of her voice. I don’tthink I’d ever heard that serious of tone come from her.

She told me that day that Denny had another child, a son whowas now an adult. She told me that none of them knew until the day of his funeral…including the son, but she had met him and it was true.

I was furious, not because Denny had a child with another woman, but because he had abandoned it and not taken responsibility for his actions. He’d denied this child his right of ever knowing his biological father, he had denied me the right of ever having a relationship with him, and he denied DJ and Brandi the right to know their brother.  He didn’t give us a choice…any of us…and that wasn’t fair. So many people were hurt by one lie. Now the truth was out and Ryan wanted to meet the brother and sister he never knew existed.

I called Denny’s son right away and introduced myself. I don’tremember what all was said but I do remember that he seemed nice and I felt terrible. He assured me he had a good life, a wonderful mother and a father he adored. He had been as shocked by the information as we were, but we both agreed we should all meet.

When the kids came home from school I sat them down and told them the truth. It was hard and I didn’t have all the answers to their questions, but I told them we would be meeting their brother within a few days, and we did.

DJ and Brandi have a great relationship with their brother;they talk with each other often and see each other whenever they can manage toget together. Ryan is a wonderful man, and where he could have a heart full ofbitterness he instead has a heart full of love. I’m grateful for that, I’mgrateful for him. Knowing him, LOVING him, has been a blessing to our family.

I'm not one to talk about deeply personal family matters in such an open forum, but this time I'm making an exception to help two people I love deeply. One person is at a crossroad and either path they choose is going to be hard, but I'm urging them, BEGGING them to do the right thing and take responsibility for their actions. A lot is at stake, lives will be changed, relationships may be irrevocably damaged if the right path is not taken. Just tell the truth so the healing can begin.

To the other person involved I'm asking you to remember that even though you're lost, confused and in unbearable pain now it WILL get better, but a big part of the healing process will be you finding a way to forgive. You're not alone, I'm here for you, you are loved and we'll make it through this mess together.

Sometimes it takes years for the truth to come out, but italways does. I think that was why my dad was always so careful to be honestwith us, because he knew that the truth may be bad, but a liewould only make the situation worse.

Pancakes

In the words of an old Millie Jackson song, I'm depressed as shit. 

I'm not talking clinical depression, my best friend and one of my sisters suffers from that monstrous disease and it's nothing like what I feel.  I just have good old fashioned- my dad died and I miss him like hell every single second - depression.  Of course it didn't help that his death was immediately followed by an extremely painful case of shingles and a kidney stone. That made me stay in bed for a week which allowed uninterrupted wallowing in grief and pain.

Once I was released to return to work I accepted every minute of overtime I could. I need to be kept busy...crazy busy...and the exhaustion that follows an 18 hour work day is welcomed right now. I'm having trouble sleeping, and by trouble I mean I'm not sleeping...at all.  It's a little better now that I'm back at work, I'm able to sleep four hours a night now. Not four hours straight, but still it's better than nothing.

I'm praying this horrible depression is because my birthday is a few days away. I'm not depressed about turning 50, as a matter of fact until my father died it was a day I looked forward to with eager anticipation. Now I dread it because it will be the first time in 32 years that I won't receive a phone call from my father singing Happy Birthday.  I know it sounds silly, like a little thing...but it's a BIG thing to me. It was always the best part of every birthday.

My daughter worked really hard planning a surprise party for me and I tried to be happy...I really did...but I felt no joy in my heart. Of course I was also in a lot of pain..but I think mostly it was just being sad.

I need to snap out of it. I know it's a long process and I will always miss my dad...but I'm no good to anyone like this and it certainly isn't what my father would want. So I decided to start the healing process with pancakes. I've been craving them for a week and this morning I had three of them...drenched in warm syrup...for breakfast.  No, they aren't on my diet, but I don't care. The pancakes made me feel better, and right now my main goal is to feel better.

I had...HAVE... a lot of great plans for this year. My first marathon, raising money for diabetes research by riding 100 miles in the JDRF Ride to Cure, walking a 50 mile marathon to celebrate my life and show people that 50 is just a number, more fundraisers to help pay for Brandi's diabetic alert dog and pancreas transplant...all important things, all things I'd discussed with my father...all things that made him proud of me for being advocate, an independent woman, a devoted mother, and a survivor. I have a lot to work to do if I'm going to meet any one of those goals, let alone all of them.The most important of all of these is the Ride to Cure. My daughter is diabetic, my father was diabetic, two of my brothers and my best friend are diabetic.  My granddaughter and son are at high risk for developing diabetes. This insidious disease is working it's hardest to destroy those I love most, so I must work even harder to destroy diabetes. I will not, CAN NOT, rest until there is a cure and my loved ones are safe.

I've always told people that happiness is a choice.  You CHOOSE to be happy even when faced with horrible events, illness...even death.  Life is precious and it shouldn't be wasted by moping around in a life long pity party. I know, I've had horrible things happen in my life, I still have horrible things in my life.  My daughter is still critically ill, I'll always be afraid my cancer will return, we still live paycheck to paycheck and have outrageous medical bills,  I see the worse part of humanity every day...but I'm going to follow my own advice and CHOOSE to be happy.

It's what my father would have wanted.

What I would say if I could

"Just calling to let you know we're all fine, we had a beautiful snow, Missy measured six inches here. And, uh, we're staying in out of the nasty. I didn't know what shift you're working so I just decided to call. Give me a call sometime and tell me what shift you're working or tell Mom on email or however you guys do that. Talk to you later. Bye."


That was the last voice message my dad left on my phone. I was working and couldn't answer when he called...and I'm so glad I didn't because now I will always be able to hear his voice when I miss him.  I listened to it a lot yesterday. I played it over and over as I drove to the funeral home to meet my family and make his final arrangements.   I listened to it before I went to bed and then again when I woke up two hours later.  I've listened to it so many times I have it memorized. I made of a recording of it and emailed it to my family so they could listen to it when they needed to hear his voice again too.

My father had a beautiful voice, it was deep and melodious. I could listen to him speak for hours. He also had a beautiful singing voice, strong and deep...and I never heard him hit the wrong note. When he sang Battle Hymn of the Republic it was so beautiful it could bring tears to your eyes.  When I was in 7th grade our school choir performed a beautiful rendition of the song. Dad and I would sing it together hundreds of times, our voices harmonizing perfectly.  My daddy always told me I had a beautiful voice and could be a professional singer. I like to think I got any singing talent I have from him.

Listening to his message soothes me, makes me calm. It brings a smile to my face and brings back all those memories of singing with him.

The last couple of days have been hard for our family. We alternate between crying and laughing as we share our stories...and man, do we have some really good stories about our father.  When we met with the preacher who will be performing the funeral yesterday we were asked if any of us would like to get up and say something about dad. We all just sat there for a minute in silence and I finally spoke for all of us. Each of us would love to say something about our father, but our grief is so overpowering, the pain so raw, we fear we will stand to speak and nothing would come out.

When my beloved Pop (my "step" father, although I loved him as much as loved my daddy) died a few years ago I got up and spoke, not because I wanted to, but because he had asked me to.  He was sick for a long time and was in hospice, so we knew the end was coming. Pop gave me messages to pass on to everyone at his funeral, and because I loved him I did exactly what I asked.

My dad didn't do that, because my father had no intention of dying right now. He hadn't been in the best of health, but they had cleaned out his carotid arteries, put in stents to keep the blood flowing freely.  He'd recently had a pacemaker put in.  He had done everything he could to stay alive, and then suddenly he was gone.

So if I could manage to stand in front of people tomorrow and talk about my father, here's what I would say.

My father loved his family, he was completely devoted to us and always had been. He and I spoke on the phone almost every day since my brother Jimmy got sick...that's a lot of talking! We talked about everything and everybody, and while he never gave me specific messages to pass on I think I know what they would have been.  So I'm going to tell you some of the things and people we talked about.

We spoke often of his wife of 40 years, Karen "Kay" Parrott. He loved her with all his heart, was faithful to her and their wedding vows for four decades.  He called me a few months ago and said, "Sis, I need your help planning a surprise. I want to take mom on a trip just as soon as Jimmy's well again, and I need your help figuring out the best place to take her and things to do.  I was thinking I'd take her to Branson, do you think she'd like that?"

She would have loved it.

I've been to Branson several times over the years so he quizzed me on what hotels I liked best, what shows she'd like, where they should go to eat.  We spent hours over the month planning the special trip he wanted to give her.  My dad didn't like to go out to crowded places and I don't ever remember him going on a vacation, so he wanted this trip to be special for her.  I don't know if he ever told her about his plans, I had the impression he wanted to make it a surprise so I doubt he did...but I know he was serious about his intention to do this for her.

He was proud of the man my brother Charlie had become.  Strong and intelligent, a deep thinker like our dad, yet such a kind and gentle heart.  Charlie is also a heavy sleeper like our dad was, so daddy took it as his job to call Charlie every morning at 5:30 in the morning to wake him up for work. He was so proud when Charlie decided to go back to school to get his degree. Education was very important to our father.

Daddy was excited when my brother Jimmy got his bachelors degree and then was over the moon with happiness when he completed his Masters. Shortly after beginning his dream job Jimmy got sick and was hospitalized for the year. That was the beginning of a very dark time for our family, and it bothered daddy so much that he wasn't physically strong enough to stay at the hospital more. It was also when our daily talks began, first out of necessity to relay information pertaining to Jimmy back and forth, and then as a way for me to check on him every day.

Dad always referred to Jimmy as the runt of the litter, because while Missy, Jimmy and I had our dad's physical characteristics (big heads, stocky build), Jimmy took after the Sigsbee family and was always smaller and thinner. He was sick more often as a child, lost most of his hearing, so everyone was more protective of him.

When it became obvious that Jimmy had the Parrott fight in him and survived all that happened to him, our dad quit calling him the runt and started bragging about how he was so much stronger than any of us had ever thought. He was so proud of Jimmy's strength and determination and would proudly tell me every milestone Jimmy hit, when he got special shoes to help fix the "drop foot" he had developed while laying for months in the hospital bed.  He was tickled pink (his phrase, not mine) when Jimmy got new braces for his legs and was able to take a few steps, and I thought he was going to bust his buttons with pride when Jimmy was able to walk to the bathroom for the first time in years.

I think of all us kids he was most proud of my sister Missy, and rightfully so.  When Jimmy got sick Missy gave up everything...her job, her social life...EVERYTHING to take care of her bubby.  She moved into the hospital, she took on the responsibility of making all the medical decisions, she took over his finances and paid his bills.  She became the rock of the family, the one everyone depended on to make important decisions and make sure necessary things got done.  She fought the insurance company, doctors, nurses, she became a warrior whose only mission was my brother and father's well being. Daddy often said Missy was the glue that held everything together and he didn't know where they'd be without her. 

I know my dad was proud of me to, he told me so often.  He was proud of my work ethic, and raising two kids on my own.  He was proud of the advocate I've become when it comes to Brandi's health. He told me over and over how he had placed on of the Diabetic on Board stickers I designed on his car. 

He was proud that I'd gone to college after dropping out of high school, and was beyond proud when our local college asked me to teach classes on emergency communications several years ago. He thought it an amazing accomplishment that his "drop out" daughter was now teaching college classes.

He loved his grandchildren and great granddaughter as much as he loved his children.  He was so worried about Brandi and when I called him in tears one night because Brandi had slipped into a diabetic coma he said, "Oh sis, she's going to be fine, she has Parrott blood in her. Her body is just tired and needs to heal itself, but she'll come back to us"...and she did.  In the hundreds of conversations I had with him over the last three years he always asked how Brandi was, how her blood sugar levels were, and if she was gaining any weight.  He worried so much about her but was the first person to ever call her a warrior...and she is. He told me she took after his mom, who had given birth to 10 children and was in a coma when my daddy was born.  He said granny was strong and stubborn and a fighter - and that Brandi reminded him of her.  I think perhaps that's the best compliment he could have ever given anyone.

When I would call him exasperated with my son he'd say, "Sis, he's just like his daddy and that's not necessarily a good thing, but he's got Parrott blood in those veins too so don't you worry, one day he'll pull his head out of his ass and become a great man."  From your mouth to God's ear daddy!
Recently I had to pleasure of calling dad and telling him that DJ had completed his Bachelor degree and a perfect 4.0 grade point average and was going to graduate summa cum laude. Then I told him he had already enrolled in his first class towards his Master degree.  My daddy started laughing and said, "See sis...I told you he had Parrott blood in him. Tell DJ grandpa's proud of him!"

There's one other person my dad talked about often, a man he loved like a son and considered a part of our family, Danny Warren.

Danny is my sisters best friend, has been since childhood, and a few months ago they declared their love for each other and officially became a couple. Oh man, dad was over the moon thrilled. When I asked what he thought about their relationship and if he thought they'd get married one day he said, "I sincerely hope so Sis, Danny is a fine man, an honorable man, and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have for a son in law."  The truth is that I already consider Danny my brother, just as daddy already considered him a son.  As my father said, "All the rest is just a piece of paper."

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