How one calendar date can change everything…
On February 1, 1971, my Dad suffered a heart attack. My Dad was 43 years old.
Up until that calendar date, my life was all about college, syllabus deadlines, friends, guys, filing up my VW Bug with gas ($4.00 would do it) and getting to my part-time waitress job on time.
I was a freshman in college. I got the call from my older brother that we had to immediately pick up my younger brother and head to Boston. Dad had a heart attack.
My mind was a blur of everything and nothing as I raced home to get my younger brother and then pick up my older brother at college in Providence. There were no details. No cell phones to keep in touch. No texting. No contact with my Mom.
All we knew is that Dad had had a business meeting in Boston and had taken my Mom along for the ride. Mom would be visiting my Nana in Brighton while my Dad went about his day. Mom got a call from a business associate at Nana’s house that Dad had collapsed (but was conscious enough to give him Nana’s phone number), and that he was being ambulanced to Waltham Hospital.
The drive from Providence to Boston was the longest drive of my life. To this day I can still see the snow of the sides of the highway while American Pie played interminably on the car radio… this will be the day that I die haunting me. I still cannot listen to this song.
We arrived at Waltham Hospital. It was dark by then. Cold. The most frightening cold of my life. We went in, gave my Dad’s name and were ushered up to the Coronary Care Unit. More dark. More cold. Swinging doors that made no sounds. All I could hear was my breathing. All I could feel was the massive lump in my throat.
We found my Mom. Sitting next to my Dad… who was all hooked up and monitored and pale. He smiled when he saw us. I broke down. Dad kept saying, “It’s all right, Sis. It’s all right.”
My Dad called me Sis, his special nickname for me.
My Dad would spend 3 weeks at Waltham Hospital. I drove the hour+ to Boston every night to see him. My Mom stayed with my Nana.
The questions were many. Especially… How could a young man, a seemingly healthy man, suffer a major coronary? What do we do now?
This was my Dad. Lean. Happy. Way ahead of his time concerning nutrition; he grew up on a farm in Michigan and loved fresh, wholesome food. Retired from the Navy, enjoying civilian life and his sales position.
Things went back to normal after a few weeks… the kind of normal that will never be normal again. My Dad went back to work. Life went on.
Until August 1975. I had graduated from college by then and got a teaching position at a junior high school in Connecticut. My Dad and Mom were so happy for me. I was on my way in life! On August 7th, I visited my parents at their home, took a swim with my Dad in our backyard pool, had a wonderful evening and then packed up my stuff to head to my apartment. My Dad gave me one of his gigantic signature hugs, said I LOVE YOU, SIS and I hopped in my VW. As I was driving away, my Dad popped back out the door and said, “Sis, do you need anything?”
I remember thinking the question was odd; but I said, “Nope. I’m all right!”
He said he loved me again.
I never saw my Dad again. He died early the next morning. A fatal coronary.
Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my Dad. That I don’t think of him. He missed meeting my husband. He did not walk me down the aisle at my wedding. We didn’t dance to Daddy’s Little Girl, as he promised since I could remember. He never saw any of his grandchildren.
I made an appointment to talk to his cardiologist in Providence. I had to know what happened. I don’t remember the physician’s name, but I remember sitting in his office and him explaining that my Dad had such significant heart disease that he shouldn’t have lived ’til 47. The physician said, “He shouldn’t have survived his first heart attack. You had your Dad an extra 4 years. He had a will to live, but his heart didn’t. Monitor yourself now.”
I have spent my adult life honoring my Dad’s life by trying to keep my heart healthy… what I do, what I eat, how I raised my kids and now how I help with my grandkids.
I run. I ran this morning with lots of RED. GO RED for the American Heart Association’s campaign for heart awareness, health and information…
I live. I laugh. I pray. I play.
My Dad visits me all the time. He’s my special angel. But I’ve always approached February 1st with fear.
Today, on February 1st, I found this little gift on my staircase. My Dad visited me in a rainbow heart. I filled up with happiness, with a GREAT BIG HEART and a great big reminder to take care of myself…
Have you ever seen a Rainbow Heart reflection? I haven’t!
And on this calendar day of February 1, 2103… I celebrate LIFE in bright RED!
And I love my Dad for everything he’s ever gifted to me. Right ’til today. Yes, Dad, your Sis is all right!
Wow…the rainbow heart is awesome. Sounds like your dad was one special person. You are keeping his memory alive by living your life to the fullest. I really admire you, my friend! Hugs!
Reading this through tears Mom. I love you. Your heart is so big. xoxo
I have never seen a rainbow heart, either, but I think I know who sent it to you. 🙂 I hate reading the sadness you had to endure worrying about your dad. I hate that he had to leave this life way too soon. I hate that I never got to meet my grandfather. But I love you and I love that you keep his memory alive every single day. XXOO
Ok, I started crying about halfway through this beautiful piece. You do honor your father, every day, in all that you do to keep yourself healthy. And you pass that energy on to your children and grandchildren. You amaze me!
As I choked back tears to keep reading your beautiful tribute to your dad, I kept thinking that I hated that you and I lost our dad’s so young. It wasn’t fair for them (and us) to have missed so much. I do have great faith that they are watching over us all the time and we will get to have those big hugs again one day. I know your dad is looking down with such pride at the wonderful, amazing, loving and beautiful woman you have become. I’m sure he sent that rainbow heart to you this morning to let you know he’s always close. I love you, my sweet friend!! xoxo
Wow looking so nice rainbow heart !!
I have never seen a rainbow heart but I am hoping that someday, your dad and my sister will team up and send one to me. thank you for sharing.
I have to tell you, that along with a few wake up calls the last couple of days, YOU inspire me to live a better and healthier life. My mom has heart disease and is still here, thank God, but I need to make sure that I am healthier and stay healthy and set a good example for my son.
Wow you have honored his life and legacy so beautifully – I’m sure he is incredibly proud of you for all that you have done! What a beautiful message from heaven to know you’re on the right track! Thanks for sharing your story, I always think if we never experience “the bitter” in life,we truly can’t enjoy or appreciate “the batter” like your children and grandchildren!
Every time I’ve read this it gives me chills.
This was beautiful Sharon, thank you for sharing with us. xo
Oops, didn’t finish my comment! I meant to also say that your love for your dad shone through every word, and I definitely felt tears building up as I read. 🙂
That rainbow heart is beautiful Sharon! i haven’t seen anything like this before. Thanks for sharing!
I read this through tears, Sharon. Thank you for sharing your story and your father with us.
Aww… my dad has always called me Sis. It started because my little brother couldn’t say “Stephanie.” Thanks for sharing memories of your dad.
I’m sobbing right now. My Dad passed when I was 13. I am proud to be walking for heart disease and I will wear my red for your dad. Beautiful post.
What a heartfelt story. I never gave heart disease much thought because I’d never been affected by it personally. Then my mother-in-law suffered a heart related incident. She passed out while at work. It was scary to think I might have to explain to my daughters that their grandmother was dead. Luckily, she was fine and is now on the necessary medicine and focused on living healthier but it was a rude awakening. Thank you for sharing your story.