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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/894778-Growing-Up-At-Forty-Three
Rated: E · Prose · Death · #894778
The heart breaking memories of my fathers death.
Branded by the agony that was endured
On a beautiful September day, 2002.
Awakened with the information that my
father had unexpectedly died, at home,
in my mothers arms.
Devastated by the news, my siblings
and I planned his funeral. Ironing
the shirt, that he was to be laid to
rest in, paying special attention to
the tear stains that had fallen from
my eyes. Thinking how naive of me to
believe that my parents were immortal.

The burial ceremony was upon us, I
couldn't fathom how could anyone
describe what a wonderful father he
had been. How could we give him the
praise that he deserved for giving
his all and being so selfless?

After the funeral, we carried mother
back to her house. She expressed her
need to be alone and would not listen
to reasoning. At 12:00am, I was awakened
by the telephone, it was my brother. He
advised me that he was on his way to the
hospital with mother. She was having chest
pains. Within 20 minutes, I was at the
hospital, being told that it was a massive
heart attack. Emergency surgery had to
be performed, stents were put into her
heart. Four hours after surgery, her heart
exploded, blowing a hole in her heart the
size of a silver dollar.Before the second
emergency surgery, the surgeon explained
that she had a 20% or less chance to
live.

Honestly, at that moment my world, as
I had known it, ended. For the first
time, I felt so alone. My mind suddenly
shut down, uncontrolable shaking and
crying followed by prayer. What seemed
forever, we were informed that she had
survived. After a couple of days another
surgery was needed. A defibrillator/
pacemaker was installed to regulate her
heart rate.Spending three weeks in
intensive care and another three weeks
in a nursing facility. Relearning how
to walk and do other things, all the
while nurses montoring her.

I recall praying on my knees in the
hospital chapel, begging God to spare
my mothers life. Promising that if she
survived, I would dedicate my life to
caring for her and to make her as happy,
as possible.

Mother is now living with me, and has
ever since she was released from the
hospitals. She is doing as well as
possible. Doctors have found an aneurysm
on her heart, about six months after
surgery. Doctors can't ever open her
heart again, for fear of her dying.
So we control it with a blood thinner.
We take each day, one step at a time.

It took the death of my father, and
nearly losing my mother for me to
become the person,that I am today. I
only wish he could have witnessed,
my growing up at forty three.



© Copyright 2004 Zizzys Tears (zizzy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/894778-Growing-Up-At-Forty-Three