Happy 85th Abby
It’s been almost 11 years since you left. From the moment you slipped into unconsciousness, my life took on an influx of emotions and events that would alter the next few years. As you were wheeled from the ambulance into the emergency room, you were without oxygen. Moments later you slipped into a coma. I saw your lifeless body change. I was a nurse yet I felt helpless. I wanted to scream, to blame someone. But things went so fast what could I say. They did all they could. COPD is a killer disease after all. Your doctor had already said you defied the odds many times, beating pneumonia with your 86 lb body. They worked to stabilize you- to bring you back. But you wasn't coming back. You were alive, but no longer there. You lasted a few more days lying lifeless in the bed. I would climb into bed with you- almost begging you to wake up. You tried one time. One last attempt. The nurse had said you were gone & she left the room. I put my head on your chest and you were alive! I went to yell for the nurse, you raised your arm and tried to say something. And then you were really gone. You fought until the very end.
If I had known what effect your death would have on my life, I would have prepared myself a little better. But I didn't. I never thought we were really that close when I was younger, but now see what a beacon you were to me. You helped me navigate my fuddled childhood. From losing my hero of a brother, to begging my mom to talk to me, you were my saving grace. I spent night after night with you checking the cold loud swirling sewer ponds & playing on the 10 key adding machine; the sound of the buttons echoing in the cold white brick office. I herded cows and fed turkeys with you in the north hills and on the west mountain of Sanpete. We spent hours hunting arrowheads in the hills. Magpies flying above the cedar tress and the smell of cedar will forever bring back those moments. We never talked much. But the feel, the bond of father/daughter was still there. The occasional name of a flower was pointed out. I wish I would have listened more.
Its only lately that I’m beginning to realize how similar we are. We were both stubborn as hell. Both standoffish. Untrusting. Both struggle to convey how we feel. Both failed at nurturing some family relations. Both unpopular in the public sector of society. But what we do have is something not many people possess. The ability to make due with what life hands you. You were born into an alcoholic family of 14 kids. You had to work constantly. many jobs a day. You were beat because you were the cause of your dads problems. You learned to be resourceful, quick, sneaky, and untrusting. You learned that your last name meant trouble in a small town. But you somehow didn't care. You still traveled far and wide to find work. You joined the army serving in Korea & then the national guard for 25+ years. You went to both desert storm wars -the last one being 59 years old and the oldest in the unit. You found a beautiful woman and you made her your one and only wife. With little skills on how to have a normal functioning family, you persevered and somehow kept 5 kids fed. You taught me to do whatever it takes to work your butt off. Sacrifice and grit. Tears or no tears, money or not, you do what you need to survive.
As you approached older age there was something that softened your heart. My last child Brianne. You were putty in her hands. you followed her around letting her show you her world. You sat and drew & painted with her for hours, mostly in silence. You helped her feel loved and cared for when the rest of her family were all too busy with their lives. You even caught the signs of pneumonia in her when her mother was too tired from working 2 jobs to even notice. That little girl ended up in the hospital but her grandpa saved her life.
The years after your death impacted my life. My mom followed you in death just 5 months later. My divorce followed that just 6 months later. Its hard to explain the father /daughter bond. All I know is I wasn't myself for a long time. No one could reach me, I fell for lies, I ruined relationship never to be repaired. Whether from the guilt of not being more proactive in your death or my moms, or the guilt of just being too damn busy with school, 2 jobs, remodeling your house, having my kids become teenagers that I couldn't control, I obviously cracked. I'm not going to lie. you left me in a mess, or maybe i turned myself into a mess.
The military that you thought would take care of you-didn't. No funeral paid. No big life insurance or any life insurance. A lot of loose ends & riffraff took years for me to maneuver. Only now am I seeing the light.
But now, after many years and some deep nights of searching, I have cleared the guilt. Clearing the channels of shame & regret, Accepting that I can only do what I am given to do with-has found me peace. The aloneness that I’ve felt without parents and a husband and a brother who I adored and respected more than anyone else-has come full circle. I feel that you would be proud of me. You would do that half smile -as if afraid someone might catch you being joyful, and you would say..”pretty good for a little squirt like you” & turn your head and laugh. And I would say. Thanks Abby. I used to call you that when I was little for some reason. I wrote in one of my first journals-Abby is always mine. It was only a few years ago that I learned ABBA means “Beloved Father” in the bible.
Happy 85th Birthday old man. 
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