Preparing to Say GoodBye (part I)

The sun hadn’t fully risen yet; the house had a yellowish glow as I opened my eyes. 6:07am. And I’m up before the kids. BINGO. I love slow and quiet mornings when I have the opportunity to take a few deep breaths, slowly rise and make my coffee in silence. These leisurely mornings don’t find me often so I relish in them; the quiet… the slow, the gentle greeting from a new day. The best.

And thats when I heard it.

The faint buzzing of my phone, hitting the nightstand. Damn it. I thought. Don’t wake my family… also, who the hell is calling me this early on a weekend (errr.. ever, honestly!) As I made my way back towards my bedroom, I passed the Nest thermostat on the wall. 6:12. And then my stomach dropped. I knew exactly who it was.

I put the phone up to my ear with a shaking, hushed voice of the morning. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Martinez, Hi. This is Julie from Orange County Health ….”

I stopped her quickly and deliberately. “What’s wrong?… Is he…”

“Mrs. Martinez. Please come down. Your father has ….” and everything went very black, and very quiet.

“Yes, Yes, ok. So he is still here?” I heard my husband taking over in a hushed tone - careful not to wake the sleeping boys in the next room. “K, she is on her way down…. yes… Right away. Thank you for calling.” My husband brought the phone away from his ear. “You need to hurry.” I didn’t say a word. I stood motionless on my side of the bed and I let out the most horrifically, guttural cry, from the depths of places I didn’t know existed. I dropped to my bed, covering my face with my hands as I felt my husband wrap his body around mine. “This is it, you got the call. You did it. Now, you need to go.” I didn’t move. I was in the most anticipated shock I had ever experienced, this had to be a dream.

I don’t remember getting dressed. I don’t remember grabbing a water bottle or a breakfast. I don’t remember walking out of my house. I was some how eerily transported to the front, double glass doors of my dads facility. I’ve been here before. I am ok. I remember saying to myself. I already got the call I’ve been dreading for years.

As I opened the doors, the familiar smell greeted me as a nurse rushed towards me. As she lowered her mask, I recognized that this was Julie, the nice lady who called me to tell me dad was dying. I felt a rush of anger for this woman. Why did you have to call me?

“Mrs. Martinez…” she began, “I’m so sor….”

“Please, call me Rachael. And Please, take me to my dad right away.”

She gently touched my shoulder as she turned to lead me down quiet, but well lit hallway. “Yes, of course. Right this way, Rachael. Your dad will be so happy to see you.”

As I followed her, she led me to a room with it’s door closed. This isn’t his room, I thought. “We moved him in here to give …. some space,” Julie said as she stopped in front of door, her hand reaching for the sterile silver handle. Some space.

Julie opened the door and the sounds of a fan greeted me as I gently moved the curtain out of the way, exposing my dad. He had a large oxygen mask covering his mouth, a hospital gown on, and blankets delicately placed over his legs. “Rachael, we ask that you wear a mask, a face shield and this protective sheet over your clothing,” Julie quietly said from behind me. “It’s just protocol,” she added. I took the items without taking my eyes of my dad. He is preparing to die, I thought to myself. It’s time.

“With all do respect, Julie,” I broke the silence, “I’m not covering myself up. This is the last time my dad will see me, and I want him to be able to really see me.”

Julie gave a knowing smile. “Well, maybe just when the doctor comes in?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “maybe,” I said again as I placed the objects on a chair near the foot of his bed. He hadn’t moved since I walked in. Not a sound, not a twitch.

“I’ll give you some time, Rachael. Please let us know if you need anything,” Julie quietly says as she walks out. “We are here.” I smiled as she made her way out of view and I made my way to his bedside. I reached down and gently placed my hand on his arm. It was cold to the touch and his skin was a very minute shade of grey.

“Hey Dad,” I spoke in to the silence. “I’m here. And what an honor it will be to help you transition from this world to the place beyond. You take your time, Dad. I’m here for as long as you need me.”

And with that, I bent down, kissed his cheek and prepared to say goodbye.