I've really debated about whether or not I want to write about the day that Dad died.
I'm afraid if I try to put that incredibly emotional and beautiful experience into words I'll cheapen it somehow. The last thing I want to do is make it seem like a made for television movie. The problem is as I try to compile my thoughts and memories of that day...I can hardly believe it myself...and I was there.
This may seem macabre, but I sincerely wish we had videotaped that day. If we had I can assure you there would be a whole lot less non-believers in the world!
I will be the first to admit my faith is often less than rock solid. Honestly, I struggle with the fact there are wars, famine, hunger, homelessness, and countless other atrocities in a world where I witnessed first hand an absolute abundance of God's amazing grace.
I can't explain or justify it. All I know is what I witnessed. I believe it was miraculous. Truly.
Let me try and start at the beginning.
Mary Beth called me right after I had dropped Lily off at school. From the tone of Mary Beth's voice, I knew immediately that something was terribly wrong.
Mary Beth told me that Dad had had a heart attack and was being airlifted from Howard County General to Johns Hopkins Hospital. Mary Beth, Patti, and I met at Mary Beth's house and drove to JHH. Don and Mary Catherine drove separately. We arrived at the hospital within minutes of each other.
A doctor met with us immediately and told us we were facing "an end of life scenario". Dad had had a massive heart attack and was currently on a ventilator and a balloon heart pump. In light of Dad's mesothelioma, he was not a surgical candidate. The doctor explained that if Dad survived bypass surgery...which the doctor thought was doubtful...Dad would not have time to fully recover from the surgery before the mesothelioma would take his life. It truly was a lose/lose proposition.
At this point Dad was not responsive and the doctor talked to us about turning off Dad's life support when we were ready. We all agreed that was the right thing to do and we went into Dad's room to spend some time with him. Much to everyone's surprise, not long after we were in the room Dad opened one eye...looked around the room...and then opened his other beautiful blue eye.
It was immediately obvious that Dad was very much present. We explained to Dad where he was and what had happened.
Dad began to gesture to us almost immediately and quickly explained (through gestures) that he was sorry he hadn't called us. He gestured that he had called 911 and then they kept his phone line open and we wasn't able to make additional phone calls.
The doctor came in and very compassionately explained to Dad what had happened and that they really weren't going to be able to help him. Via plenty of thumbs up Dad tried to assure the doctor that he was feeling really good. The doctor explained to Dad that the reason he was feeling so good is because there were machines doing all the hard work for him and those machines were not going to be able to carry the load much longer.
It was obvious that what the doctor was trying to tell Dad was not really sinking in. At this point Mary Beth stepped in. Mary Beth lovingly put her hands on Dad's face, looked him in the eye, and told Dad this would be the day that he saw God. At first Dad shook his head "No", but then you could almost see this wave of acceptance come over Dad. It was so beautiful. Truly indescribable.
Shortly after the doctor spoke to Dad we asked a priest to come in. After the priest anointed Dad, Dad very clearly mouthed, "Good Man." The priest got quite a kick out of that.
The priest then gave all of us 4 things to do as our "homework". To be honest, I don't remember each of the 4 things exactly...but basically...he asked us to tell Dad we loved him, forgive Dad for any grudges we might be harboring, share happy memories, and give Dad permission to go.
We did our best to do our "homework", but Dad had other ideas.
If I remember correctly, it was just about then that the craziest game of Cardiac Care Unit Charades began. Dad had A LOT of things he wanted us to know. For several hours Dad gestured and wrote notes to us. I can't remember everything that transpired in the next few hours, but here are a few of the things Dad shared with us:
Dad told us what lottery numbers he wanted us to play - straight and boxed.
Dad shared with us that it was better to die this way because it would be fast and the mesothelioma would take longer.
Don and Dad reminisced about when Don was little and Dad would take him on jobs with him in Western Md. Dad wrote notes about where they would have lunch, stop for supplies, spend the night, and more.
Dad wanted to make sure we didn't forget to put out the recycling. (No, I'm not kidding.)
Dad gave us explicit instructions for a donation he wanted to make and what the note that accompanied the donation should say.
Dad told us how much money his company was owed and from what customers. Dad also told us what invoices he had outstanding to pay.
Dad gave us specific instructions for the family picnic including how many hamburgers to make and what size they should be, how many hot dogs (regular and polish), how much beer and to remember to buy some O'Douls for Uncle Bernie.
Dad told us if he looked good keep the casket open...if not - close it.
Oh, and Dad wanted to wear the purple tie he had worn to Clare and Ryan's wedding.
Dad wanted to wear his AOH Division 5 sash and he wanted an American flag on his casket.
Dad told us what funeral home he wanted to use if we weren't too keen on his other ideas of either being viewed at his house or the attractive alternative of shoving a ham bone someplace unmentionable and letting a pack of hungry dogs take care of the rest.
Dad told us what hymns he wanted sung at his funeral. Trust me Dad gesturing "On Eagles Wings" was really priceless.
Dad told us he wanted a big, Big, BIG, party after his funeral and he wanted us to have A LOT of homemade Irish Cream. Dad also gestured that we didn't need to buy any Jameson because he had 3 bottles of it at home.
This crazy game of charades and note writing went on for several hours. There were moments of incredible frustration when we couldn't understand Dad and there were moments of crazy, hysterical laughter.
Throughout the day Dad's hospital roomed filled with people who loved him and whom he loved. All of Dad's son-in-laws were there and all of Mary Beth and Ed's children...including the newest member of the family.
Clare assumed a new role that day - one I'm sure she never expected - that of Family Scribe. Clare took copious notes on everything Dad shared with us.
At some point the doctor came in and told Dad that they could try and extubate him and he might be able to talk with us. Dad definitely wanted to try. The doctor warned Dad that it would be difficult and there would be lots of coughing, gagging, etc. The doctor assured Dad that they would be there to keep him comfortable.
Before they came in to extubate Dad he let us know through gestures that he wanted all of us...except Mary Beth...to leave the room. Apparently, Dad was afraid that Patti and I might faint. Unfortunately, I completely misunderstood what Dad was gesturing and thought he wanted us to bow before we left the room.
Oh, if you could've seen the expression on Dad's face. Of course, I realize now how completely absurd it is to think Dad wanted us to bow before we left the room...but I wasn't at my best...and I'm quite certain Dad thought I had completely lost my mind!! By the way, Dad was right. I had completely lost my mind...and a huge part of my heart.
I wasn't in the room when Dad was extubated, but instead of the difficult, coughing, gagging scenario the doctor anticipated Dad handled it effortlessly. Mary Beth told us the first thing Dad said was, "Piece of cake!"
I'll share more about what Dad said when he could speak and more about the rest of the beautiful time we shared together in another post.
As I still struggle to put words to my thoughts and feelings I wanted to share with you the eulogy Patti wrote for Dad.
Patti, thank you for letting me share your eulogy here. But, more importantly, thank you for standing in front of a church filled with people and beautifully sharing just how much Dad meant to each of us.
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During Dad's brief illness there have been so many lovely tributes written about him on his CaringBridge site, on Facebook, and he received many cards and letters from people wanting to thank him for his positive influence. So many kind words were spoken to and about him.
My family thanks you for all of them and we want you to know that each and every one of you was exactly right. He was that kind, that funny and loving, he was that special.
He was a simple man in the most beautiful sense of the word. He found total satisfaction in his life. He never wanted for anything. He worked hard, but not so he could have the biggest house, or the fanciest car - heck it practically took an Act of Congress to get him to buy a new suit! He worked hard for us, his family. Ultimately, that dedication and hard work would lead to the disease of Mesothelioma. Dad truly took the diagnosis as a badge of honor.
In the construction industry known for gruff, rough around the edges characters, Dad stood out. He was quick with a joke or a helping hand. He never treated anyone as if they were beneath him and in his work life, like his personal life, he was respected and loved.
Given the choice to spend a day anyway he wanted, Dad would have picked a warm sunny day, steamed crabs, a cold beer, a winning Orioles game on the radio, his wife and children at the picnic table and his grandkids playing in the back yard.
My father was a bit of a Renaissance man. He participated fully in the raising of his children long before it was the norm. He was always in charge of Bath Time and on cold winter mornings he would throw our clothes in the dryer so that when we got dressed for school we would be warm. At the end of the day we kids would wait for him at the top of the neighborhood and he would pick us up in the back of his truck, drive us home, and he would play with us in the back yard after coming home from a long day’s work.
We were raised in a house with few rules. But three that were engrained in us by our father - first (and most importantly) never, ever…no matter what…disrespect his wife. Those beautiful sparkling Irish eyes could turn steel cold in a flash if we were being rude to Mom.
I wish I could find the right words to express the way my dad felt about my mother. It was so far beyond "for richer or poor”, so much deeper than “in sickness and in health". In fact, I'm pretty sure the only wedding vow my father didn't honor was "until death do us part".
Yes, Mom and Dad's relationship changed on Sept 5, 2002, but it surely hadn't ended. Dad started each day of the past 9 years by having coffee with my mom. He would go to the 7-11, grab a newspaper and a cup of coffee, and head to the cemetery. If the weather was bad, Dad would say, "Poor old Mommy, she only got a drive-by today."
Dad brought her fresh flowers at least once a week, always being sure to put a few of those flowers on the grave site of a baby girl Dad had never met.
When Dad travelled, or on the few rare occasions he was sick, we kids would always scramble at the last minute, "Did someone put fresh flowers at the cemetery?"
Clare had the best idea, so I stopped at Safeway this morning and brought flowers so that on Dad’s final trip to the cemetery, he’d have flowers for Mom.
Dad always modeled the behavior he wanted from his children. I think more than trying to practice what he preached - it was just who Dad was. He was always respectful of his mother - our grandmother. We grew up watching him taking her shopping, to the bank, having dinner with her at least once a week and speaking to her every night. And let’s be honest, we kids enjoyed the fact that if Dad even thought about stepping out of line, my grandmother was the only person who could put him right back into place with a simple "Donald, stop being such a jackass".
Second rule, there was never a good excuse to miss dinner time. We were welcome to have friends join us at the table, but Dad expected us to be there. And if any of you ever shared a meal with us, you know it wasn't a "Beaver Cleaver" type of dinner time. We weren't neatly dressed. The children didn't eat in silence while the husband and wife discussed his day over a martini. Nope, not our house - it was loud and sometimes chaotic, always funny and filled with stories of the day. Dad wanted to know how each of us was doing in school, he wanted to know how we had spent our afternoon, and he wanted to hear the latest jokes and be kept up to date on all the gossip.
The third rule was more a way of life than a rule - Family First. And Dad’s idea of family just wasn't his wife and four kids. It was better defined as anyone whom he loved or who loved either him, his wife, his four kids or his grandchildren. He worried about, prayed for, and included in his "family" so many people. That doesn't mean he always remembered your name - don't be offended. He didn’t always remember mine. We used to call it, “The Litany of the Saints.” Dad would look at one of his children and run down the list of names until he got it right. So for me, he would start with: Mom, Mary Beth, Don, T.J., Doodles (yes, the family dog) and finally come around to my name.
To his grandchildren, I know to you it was second nature to look up and see your grandfather at your track meet, your ball game, your cheerleading competition, your play, or your dance recital. If it mattered to you, it mattered to Dad Dad.
Each of you has been provided with a beautiful example of God’s love on Earth. A gentle giant, a man who truly let his actions speak louder than his words. And his selfless actions to the very end of his earthly existence, I hope, will forever provide you a role model worth emulating.
Grandsons - you've seen the perfect example of how to be a husband and a father. Granddaughters - he set the bar high, but settle for nothing less.
Even when it came to his best friend, Dad kept in the family. My dad's best friend is Uncle Jack. We kids want to thank you, Uncle Jack, for being such a good friend to Dad. You were his greatest comfort when Mom died. He was very much lost without her and you helped him navigate his way back to the land of the living. And whether it was traveling to Ireland, having lunch at the Smokehouse, attending funerals (sometimes even accidently the funeral of people you didn't even know) or grabbing a pint at one of the local Irish establishments Dad loved spending time with you. I know by now must of you have heard the story of when Dad was first diagnosed with cancer, the doctor walked in placed his hands on top of Dad’s and said, "Mr. Waters, you have cancer".
Dad responded with "Very good".
"No, Mr. Waters you DO have cancer"
"Very Good."
T.J. had to interrupt to interpret - "very good" in dad speak means – “Ok. It is what it is; we can't change it so let’s deal with it the best way possible and move forward".
Dad I failed a test, I wrecked the car, I'm getting divorced..."very good". Never an ounce of judgment. I'm not saying Dad was proud of every decision his kids made, but he was ALWAYS proud of his children. He was the very best at separating the deed from the doer. After the doctors left the room that day Dad said to me, "I have lived twice as long as my brother, Joe. He never got to see his kids graduate from high school. I got to see all of my children graduate high school, get married, have children of their own. Hell, I got to see several grandkids graduate high school, some college and God willing, I will see one get married. I am a lucky man and anyway, I miss your mom." And I know he truly believed that. He was blessed. And just 14 days ago, Dad was honored to be at the wedding of his oldest grandchild. Besides the icing on the cake that Dad loved Clare so much, was the fact that all of his family was in the same place at the same time. Every child, in-law, grandchild (and lots of extended family) - all there together celebrating love.
What I wish for each of you is that at some time in your life, you can have a few moments with someone you love like we had with Dad that very last day. The doctors didn't expect that Dad would have a level of consciousness that would allow him to communicate with us. Clearly, they didn't know who was boss.
First, one eye peeked open, and when he looked around the room and saw all of his children, he knew it was safe to open both eyes.
The doctor, who was a wonderful man, spoke clearly to Dad and told him his prognosis. Whether it was Dad’s ears that couldn't hear the doctor, or if it was his heart, isn't completely clear to me. But my sister, Mary Beth, spoke to Dad. She spoke to him from her heart and in the most amazingly compassionate way conveyed to Dad that this was his last day. She let him know that we were all there; we were all going to be ok and that when he was ready, we would turn off life support and he could go home to Jesus and Mom.
However, Dad had a few messages left to convey. While still on a ventilator we played the most unusual game of charades. Dad was able to share with us some very important and meaningful things: • Next June we need to buy 100 hot dogs, 80 regular and 20 Polish. We needed 70 hamburgers about this big. So, if any of you thought that the McDonnell Family picnic would end here, I assure that you are wrong. So please mark your calendars for the 3rd Saturday in June. • He dictated that we should have bagpipes - thank you for being here. • He wanted an American flag on his casket, and his AOH sash on his chest (not the honorary grand marshal one, he didn't want to brag) • He wanted a party today...a big party with lots of Irish Cream - but we didn't need to go to the liquor store to buy the Irish whiskey, because he had 3 bottles under the bar. • He wanted his Grandchildren who were in college to stay in class and not miss school because of him. • He wasn't sure about an open or closed casket, it depended on how he looked. • He had a very unattractive option for his burial that involved a hambone, an unseemly location for that hambone, and a pack of hungry dogs.
While still intubated each of us in the room got a chance to speak with Dad, to look him in the eye and tell him just how wonderful he was. Another blessing in this family is that we don't wait until "it’s too late", we don't have "I wish he would have known". Dad knew every day how much we adored him, but there was something beautiful about getting to share those few hours with him.
When he was ready, he was extubated and for a short time, able to speak, he wanted us all in the same room. It took a minute or two to gather everyone around his bedside and when we were all there, silent, waiting for his words of wisdom he said...
“Somebody get me a Smithwicks!”
We all laughed and then he composed himself and drew a breath and said, "Thank you".
Really Dad???
We are the ones who need to thank you. We are blessed to have been in your family. We are grateful for every lesson you taught us and we will miss you every day of our lives.
My sister said it best, and we've each said it a thousand times since then, Tuesday was the best worst day of our lives. As he did throughout our lives, Dad made this transition as easy as he could for us. He spent his last few hours making sure that we were okay, thanking us, making us laugh, and as always being a living example of faith. I've never seen such grace. I am eternally grateful to God for the honor of being his daughter.
Thank you for being here today, and don't forget - after the interment – there’s gonna be a party - a big, big, big party with lots of Irish Cream and Dad expects you all to be there. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mary Beth summed up the day Dad died beautifully. She said it was the "Best worst day" we ever had. I think that describes November 15, 2011 perfectly.
Although I'm certain my heart literally broke that day I also know we were given such a tremendous gift. The time we were able to share with Dad is something I will always treasure.
I do not want this blog to become my grief journal, but there are so many things I want I need to write about. Things I don't ever want to forget...things that are weighing so heavy on my heart...and also moments of laughter and incredible joy.
The morning after Ryan and Clare's wedding John and Malissa, Clare's parents, invited all of us to brunch.
I have to be honest...I wasn't so sure about brunch. Tony and I had been out late the night before "partying". We just aren't used to dancing until 1:00 am anymore. What can I say??? We're old like that!
Oh, and maybe I should mention that when we got back to our hotel room Sleeping Beauty was NOT sleeping. Yes, that's right. It was after 1:00 am and Lily was still bright-eyed and bushy tailed. In fact, when Tony and I opened the hotel room door we were greeted with an all too familiar voice saying, "Hell-ooooooo!" Yikes!
Poor, poor Rosie - our sweet babysitter. Not only did Lily keep her up extremely late she also had sat for her SAT's Saturday morning!!!
Thankfully, Rosie loves Lily! Rosie assured us that she and Lily had had a great time and that Lily actually did "try" to fall asleep a few times, but just had "too much to think about" to actually fall asleep.
Speaking of Rosie, it turns out that Lily wasn't all that interested in staying at Clare and Ryan's reception. I thought we'd have to take her out of there kicking and screaming ;-). Nope. Lily was far more interested in heading back to the hotel and ordering Room Service with Rosie! Go figure!!
Thankfully, Lily was asleep within minutes of Tony and I returning to the hotel room and her mom and dad weren't far behind her!
The next morning Lily hopped out of bed like the Energizer Bunny. I can't say the same for her mother and father! It only took me setting one foot on the ground to remember why I NEVER wear high heels. Oy! I practically had to crawl to brunch!!
Crawling would have been so worth it! Brunch was SO nice. It was great to have the opportunity to catch up with people we had missed the night before and to just relax and talk...oh yeah...and eat!
I know this picture has nothing to do with the brunch...I just realized I hadn't posted any pictures of us all gussied up for the wedding!
Here are a few more pictures from the brunch.
Bobby, Clare's brother-in-law, designed Clare and Ryan's wedding invitations and the "guest book" he's hugging!
Malissa, Clare's beautiful mother, and beautiful Clare.
Speaking of beautiful...
Lily with Rosie and Katie - her two favorite babysitters!
On Saturday evening Ryan and Clare began the next chapter of their continuing love story. The weather was perfect...Clare was positively RADIANT...and the love Ryan and Clare share was absolutely palpable. It truly was like a fairytale...only much, much better...because it is real!
Surrounded by family and friends, Ryan and Clare were married in a beautiful and meaningful ceremony. Father W, the priest that officiated the ceremony, did not just marry some couple - he married Ryan and Clare. I have been to weddings that have a kind of (Insert Name of Bride/Groom Here) feel. Do you know what I mean?
Ryan and Clare's wedding was NOTHING like that. It was obvious that Father W knew and admired both of them. Father W spoke directly to Ryan and Clare and it was sweet to watch them nod their heads or laugh during different parts of the ceremony.
The beautiful ceremony was followed by an amazing reception. The venue was filled to overflowing with people who wanted to share in Ryan and Clare's joy. That joy coupled with delicious food, flowing drinks, and wonderful company...made for a magical evening.
John and Malissa, Clare's parents, were warm and gracious hosts. Spending time with the two of them it is easy to see where Clare gets her kind and loving nature. I am so happy that Ryan (and all of us by proxy) are "officially" joining this lovely family.
Ryan and Clare are blessed with a large group of close and supportive friends...including a Best Man/brother who, I think it is safe to say, was almost as excited about the wedding as Ryan and Clare.
It was so much fun to watch Ryan, Clare, and all their family and friends celebrating together (even if it did make me feel really, Really, REALLY old!).
With Dad's recent diagnosis I was afraid for me the evening would be bittersweet. Thankfully, Dad's joyful presence - together with all the obvious love and happiness - left no room for the bitter...but plenty of room for the sweet!
I am confident that Saturday evening was only one in a long line of "happiest moments" in Ryan and Clare's continuing love story. It is such a privilege to follow along on their journey to happily ever after.
