The long, lonely summer - Part One

It has been a strange trip this summer; really since spring.

I was asked by someone yesterday what was wrong. This is my attempt at an answer. I don't intend this as a post to engender sympathy or condolences; this is my method of attempting to both explain my current malaise as well as (hopefully) fight my way through this time.

In March, as many know, my father called me to meet him for dinner on a Wednesday night. it was an impromptu get together and out of the norm for him to call me last minute. At one of his favorite 'Alphabet District' restaurants, he informed me that he had been given a very short term-prognosis. Advanced kidney and liver failure made his passing more imminent.

Like most things, I took it in stride; asked questions and tried to determine what I could do between then and his passing.

My dad has always been fiercely independent and has been adamant for two decades that he did not want to waste away in a nursing home. He wanted his life to conclude the way it had been lived; on his terms. So we set about finding enough help to keep him from harm as much as possible.

Because he lived in Eugene and I lived in Beaverton, we had to hire help. Part of the plan was for some help to come in two times a week and I would drive down every weekend to help him get everything done he wanted. Errands; grocery shopping; working on a life story project. They were good times; probably as much time as we had spent together in my life.

But it was a long summer of solitary driving; assisting him (he had significant mobility issues) and solitary dinners on the road.

Through it all, there was the comfort, if one wants to call it that, of work. The truth? It became a way to avoid dealing with the issue of my father's impending death. I could get up at five AM, work all day, go to the gym, write articles at night, sleep and do it all over again.

Then, in early July, things took a significant turn for the worse. He called me on a Thursday night in distress. Luckily I had someone who was close by that was able to get him to the hospital. The ammonia buildup in his body had created confusion and a loss of coherence. He spent the next ten days in the hospital.

I drove down multiple times while he was there.

I picked him up from river Bend on Saturday July 22. Everything seemed about where it was prior to his emergency room trip - until we got to his apartment. He could no longer function. It took two other people and 45 minutes to get him from my car to his apartment which was about 20 steps. Once inside, he was unable to do more than stand up, urinate in a portable urinal and sit back down. He did not eat for 48 hours; and he barely drank anything other than small sips of ice-cold water.

That night he begged me to help him die. I cannot express the fear, sorrow, anger, every potential emotion humans feel, that I felt that night. Mostly I felt guilty because I could not do as he wanted; I knew it was wrong and feared the consequences.

I was scared and in desolate isolation inside a dark, cramped apartment.

My older brother drove up from Klamath Falls the next day and our younger brother flew out from Massachusetts on Monday. We had a plan. I drove home Monday night, but turned around and drove back to Eugene Tuesday morning.

More moments of abject isolation.

We got dad into a hospice facility on Wednesday. That weekend, most of my family came down for the visit; that was the first weekend I did not feel isolated as I drove to Eugene. On Sunday dad went back to the hospital; by Thursday it was clear that he had only hours left. We drove down again.

He passed on Friday August 4. Following his death, I spent two weeks in virtual isolation working on his celebration of life video. I had buried myself in the project; and I had continued working; and I had continued writing. I kept myself busy. I kept myself isolated.

After the celebration, life quickly returned to its same pace. And I continued to bury myself. I continued to isolate myself.

But everyone from my office was gone the next week; then football started and I looked forward to some things. So, what happened?

Friday I worked late. I had lost all of my routine from the summer and was already out of whack. I got home, did some prep work for our members tailgate. Then I got up, loaded the vehicle and headed down - alone. I set up the tailgate by myself; cooked food and watched the Michigan-Florida game. For the first hour I sat and watched the game alone.

People came after that hour; people went. I got up to the box - and was again isolated. I was talking to my wife this morning about this and I think what I felt was just the overwhelming isolation of a long year which finally caught up to me. No. I am not depressed. But I did allow the gravity of the  moment to overwhelm me. So as I waited for the game to start; I let a summer of isolation consume me.

I was emotionally exhausted.