I think my parents were married on December 15th. Maybe it was the 14th. My sisters and I knew nothing about their marriage, let alone the anniversary, until we were adults. One of our family secrets. On their anniversary of 1980, they went to the mall, even though Daddy had complained of chest pains. He didn’t want to go the emergency room, and Mother went along with his choice. I think that decision reflects clearly their denial of the health problems he had begun to have a few years before. Fear and denial, part of the family secret.
I didn’t know what the various doctors Daddy had seen had told him. He had a long history of smoking, although he had quit in 1976. He had been diagnosed with hypertension, high cholesterol, and probably had undiagnosed vascular disease. He had at least one bout of mini strokes. On the first day of spring 1981, Daddy died of a heart attack. He had spent the last several days in ICU, one of several stays in the hospital since December. The family was at home, waiting for visiting hours. When we arrived at the hospital, we found that Daddy had been moved to a private room, without the hospital having alerted us. Obviously, he was no longer hooked up to all the various devices associated with critical cardiac care. Were we in denial, or were we just sadly ignorant of the message? Death was near.
Sue, my middle sister, and I were with Daddy. Mother and Sue’s family were in the hallway. Daddy appeared to be unaware of our presence. I don’t remember that he called us by name, or even acknowledged us. “Pee, pee....” We thought he needed to urinate, so we called Mother and Sue’s husband, Henry, into the room. Together, Mother, Henry and I helped Daddy to the commode. We sat him down. I faced Daddy, Mother supporting from the right, Henry from the left. Daddy’s eyes were blue, blue, wide open. He was dead. “Peace, peace…” he had called.
The call went out, Code Blue.
Saviors in scrubs scurried into action,
Their subject already ascending.
They carried out their plan,
Required by law, ethics.
A family stood stunned and numb nearby.
Denial had robbed them,
They hadn’t prepared.
As they struggled, God breathed hope.
Mythical wings sheltered them.
“We did all we could,” said a savior in scrubs.
“Thank you.” The Promise was safe once more.
The Promise—Santa Fe, New Mexico (December 15, 2007)
R. Harold Hollis
I didn’t know what the various doctors Daddy had seen had told him. He had a long history of smoking, although he had quit in 1976. He had been diagnosed with hypertension, high cholesterol, and probably had undiagnosed vascular disease. He had at least one bout of mini strokes. On the first day of spring 1981, Daddy died of a heart attack. He had spent the last several days in ICU, one of several stays in the hospital since December. The family was at home, waiting for visiting hours. When we arrived at the hospital, we found that Daddy had been moved to a private room, without the hospital having alerted us. Obviously, he was no longer hooked up to all the various devices associated with critical cardiac care. Were we in denial, or were we just sadly ignorant of the message? Death was near.
Sue, my middle sister, and I were with Daddy. Mother and Sue’s family were in the hallway. Daddy appeared to be unaware of our presence. I don’t remember that he called us by name, or even acknowledged us. “Pee, pee....” We thought he needed to urinate, so we called Mother and Sue’s husband, Henry, into the room. Together, Mother, Henry and I helped Daddy to the commode. We sat him down. I faced Daddy, Mother supporting from the right, Henry from the left. Daddy’s eyes were blue, blue, wide open. He was dead. “Peace, peace…” he had called.
The call went out, Code Blue.
Saviors in scrubs scurried into action,
Their subject already ascending.
They carried out their plan,
Required by law, ethics.
A family stood stunned and numb nearby.
Denial had robbed them,
They hadn’t prepared.
As they struggled, God breathed hope.
Mythical wings sheltered them.
“We did all we could,” said a savior in scrubs.
“Thank you.” The Promise was safe once more.
The Promise—Santa Fe, New Mexico (December 15, 2007)
R. Harold Hollis
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