It was a week ago today that I saw my dad alive for the last time. Of course, I had no idea that it would be the last chance I ever had to talk to him. Kayliana had no idea that it would be the last time she’d ever see her Grandad (“D-dad”). None of us could have known how much our world would be changed in just a matter of hours.
Because the last six days have been such a blur – such a foggy haze of confusion, shock and emotion – I really haven’t thought much about last Monday. Until today. Every Monday, I take Kayli over to my parents’ condo and then I go teach music. Last Monday, like many, I went over early so we could have lunch together.
As dad sometimes would do, when we arrived, he got down on his knees, spread open his arms and Kayli went running at him. The hug turned into a full-on knock-down, tickle, wrestling-situation. I don’t know how they spent their time together while I was gone; I just take comfort in the fact that they did. Plus, last week, I picked up the boys before getting Kayli (something I don’t do everytime), so Matthew and Zachary got to see him as well.
When we were getting ready to leave and head home, once again, dad got down on the floor, opened his arms and Kayli ran repeatedly into them for hugs…to the point where, I was getting frustrated because she wouldn’t stop. I’m sure I prodded her with impatient comments: “Come on, Kayli. Alright. You already got your last hug.” I was, of course, in a rush to leave. The fighting through traffic, getting home to dinner and homework just seemed SO important. Like it just can’t wait any longer. Like it’s what matters most. If only I’d known. If only we could always remember and be aware of what really matters most.
The boys had already gone out the door. As Kayli and I exited and I pulled the door shut behind us, she and dad called repeated, “Good-bye!” “Good-bye!” “Good-bye!”’s to each other…all the way up the stairs until they couldn’t hear each other any longer.