1987 Excerpt from "Authentic, a Memoir"

 

I arrived home to our apartment and Norman said he was going over to his parents’ home; his father might not make it through the night. The man who’d been like the father I’d never had was on his way out. Norman said, “Dad has been tanking since Wednesday.” My heart sunk ever more so. Norman’s father had been the only related adult I knew aside from my husband that cheered on my commitment to long distance running. I could talk to his Dad/Herbie about the military, business, exercise and running.

    Soon we were off to Norman’s parents’ home. It’d reached nearly 90 degrees that sunny afternoon. We entered the dimly lit room where Dad lay in a hospital bed, one room off the main entrance’s foyer. Mom called us over. She had just extracted fluid from Dad’s lungs. We followed Mom up to the kitchen. She gave us an update—she realized he might not make it through the night. Yet wanted me to try and get some of his medicine into him with applesauce as she and Norman spoke out of earshot. As instructed by Mom, I went back down the stairs of the split-level home with a spoon and the jar of applesauce to the room he lay in. I spoke quietly and softly; as he was mildly responsive. I said, “Dad, how about some medicine?” There was only an initial moan. So, I took the spoon and put applesauce on it and placed one of his pills in it on the spoon; then I put it near his lips. With his eyes barely open, he said, “No. No more.” I slowly replied, “Dad. You sure?” He repeated, “No more.” I sat back. I too realizing these may be his last hours, his last breathes.  

    Later that night, Norman said, “I’m going to stay here with Mom. Dad’s not going to make it through the night. Go home. I’ll call you if anything changes.” I hugged Norman and Mom and exited into the hot humid night—getting into our car I drove home alone. Once I arrived at our apartment, I changed and cleaned up. I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt—laid in bed and was soon fast asleep.

    Before I knew it, I awoke soaking wet. I’d just had a nightmare that my father-in-law had died and that my sister-in-law had to tell her daughter, my niece Alayne about her grandfather. A minute after I’d awakened and recalled the dream—the phone rang. I answered, “Hello?” Norman replied, “Its me. He’s gone. He died around eleven. Jody, I tried to revive him, but nothing. The police are here now. The funeral home was called and will be here soon.” I replied, “I’ll be there soon, Honey.” We hung up. I got myself together and drove back to my in-law’s home. The twenty-minute drive seemed like forever, The moon shone brightly the whole way, marking the passing of every minute, every second that Dad had now vacated our world, my world. He was the glue. He was the go-to-guy. When he was around, everything was as it should be. Now that was void.--- Jody-Lynn Reicher Excerpt June 1987 "Authentic, a Memoir"