Grief.

 Today, January 1st, 2016 makes one month since I had to tell my daddy good bye.

Grief. A five letter word that no one wants to speak about or acknowledge. A word that as a human race we have conditioned ourselves to believe is almost shameful. A word that as an individual whom believes in Christ and heaven has been taught that we should not be sad or mournful of those we have lost because we are taught from a very young age that heaven is a grand place where those individuals are celebrating their life. Grief. A single syllable word. A word that that makes people uncomfortable. A word that unless you have been through you will not understand the magnitude of what grief really is. 

November 27^th at approximately 1 pm I received a phone call that at the time I had no idea would change my life forever and in ways unimaginable. A phone call that you always see on television where the person is frantically looking for their keys to run out the door and you as the viewer have no idea what has really occurred. That is the phone call I received while standing in Target waiting to pay for some after Thanksgiving shopping. “Your dad is on the way to the hospital. We don’t know what happened.” That is the phone call I received and in a panic just like you see on television I ran out the door, dragging my six year old behind me, yelling “SORRY!!” to the lady I practically ran over, through the rain and puddles, to my car, because I had received the dreaded phone call. The phone call I have dreaded for several years.

You see for two years I had begged, pleaded, yelled, screamed, and cried to my dad to please go to the doctor. Please go see a specialist. Please take your medications correctly. Please check your sugar level. Your blood pressure level. Please make sure you are eating real food. Please make sure you are staying hydrated. Dad, please do not work nights. Dad, please make sure you are sleeping. Dad, please do not be climbing the ladders. Do not be working alone. Do not be driving at night. I begged him. Pleaded with him. Even went as far to try and scare him. Dad, you are going to die and then what? 

Thanksgiving Day 2013 at approximately six pm I picked up my dad and drove him to the hospital against his wishes. It was either you get in my car or I am calling 911. My car won. That was the longest, quietest fifteen minute ride in my car with dad ever. See, dad hated doctors. Hated everything about them. He had a fear like no other- one I cannot even describe of doctors- so on Thanksgiving Day his oldest daughter forcefully made him go the hospital because he had a diabetic sore on his left foot which you could literally see through the hole to the bone on his foot. My dad was so afraid of doctors he was walking around with a hole in his foot. That I can only assume was painful.

That next week was what I then thought the longest week of my life. Emergency room, admittance, diabetic specialist, foot specialist, tests and more tests. Finally told partial amputation of the two left toes with partial foot bone amputated. Diagnoses of diabetes and high blood pressure. After all this new information and diagnoses dad still did not talk about it. I knew he was scared. I knew he did not fully understand. I knew my dad better than anyone else. I can remember sitting in the hospital room on the day the doctor came in to tell us they were doing surgery the next day and watching my dad’s face and emotions. Nothing. No words. No facial change. No tears. Nothing. I remember telling him dad this is what has happened because of choices that have been made. This is it. They are going to save your life, yes- you will have a partial foot amputation-but here you get a second chance of life. A chance to make better choices. A chance to take care of yourself. A chance to not only survive but to live again.

Fast forward Thanksgiving 2015, and yet again back in the hospital. We had to wait about two hours before the doctor would tell us anything. Finally they called us back to an empty room where we already knew based on that fact that the information was not what we wanted to hear. Trauma doctor walks in and begins asking his questions. Dad was at work. We do not know. He could have been on a ladder. He was found lying on the floor. Yes, CPR was performed. 911 dialed. Question after question. Finally, we are told. They do not believe there was any physical trauma due to lack of physical evidence. They do not believe there was a heart attack. All they knew at that point was dad was found collapsed on the ground unresponsive and that is where next chapter of our lives begin. 

My dad. My hero. My first knight in shining armor. The man who fought for custody of me. The man who worked his butt off to pay for my years of dance. The man who woke me up at four am to drive three to four hours to go hunting for the weekend in the freezing cold as a young child. The man who taught me how to fish. How to bait a hook. How to drive the boat. The man who taught me how to tape off baseboard so he could paint a wall. How to unscrew light plates, how to turn off the breaker when he was working on the electric. How to use a tape measure and that a step is roughly twelve inches when calculating the footage of a room. The man that taught me how to check the liquids in the car but also where to go because dad also taught me how to be a princess. My dad taught me how to be patient. How to love hard. To always believe in myself even when no one else did. How to listen. When to talk and when it was best just to keep my mouth shut. He taught me the importance of working hard and providing for your family. He taught me “if momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” He taught me the phrase “That money burnin’ a hole in your pocket??” He taught me exactly what I needed in a man when the time came for that. He taught me what being a parent was all about and that being a Papa was an even greater privilege. My dad. My best friend. My hero. Was now lying before my eyes in a hospital bed, motionless, and on a ventilator. 

How do you even comprehend what is before you. What the doctors are saying. How do you even grasp an understanding-even in its simplest context of what is occurring? How? Why? What? Those are the questions that go over and over and over in your head as you are trying to understand what your eyes are seeing but at the same time what your heart is saying.

My eyes saw dad lying there. Saw dad’s heart rate, pulse number and oxygen level. I saw the arterial blood pressure number and the cuff number. I saw the great varying difference in those numbers. What I saw was my dad, in the hospital bed. My dad would be ok. My dad would wake up. We would make it through this and dad would yet again be ok.

My heart understood something completely different. My heart felt dad saying I am tired. My heart understood dad’s wishes more than any other individual. My heart already knew but at the same time my heart was so hopeful. Dad was still so young. Dad has three amazing kids at home and three amazing vibrant grandkids that need him. 

Day 1: Dad was admitted. We were not given very hopeful news. Decision was made rather quickly to perform the hydro protocol on him in hopes to allow his brain some time heal. Dad was put on paralytic, pain meds, sedation meds, and antibiotics.

Day 2: Dads body is cooling to the body temperature of 91.5-takes a full 24 hours for body to reach that temperature as the body has to slowly cool to temperature in order to not cause any injury to the organs.

Day 3: The process to warm dad’s body back to 96.7 degrees begins. Again it is a slow 24 hour process. We were told after his body warms to the required temperature they would then slowly begin turning off the paralytic and sedation meds.

Day 4: By this point if dad was going to awake and make any progress we should have seen something. There were no natural bodily responses such as gag reflexes or eye movement with the flash light. Mom called while I had gone home to take the kids to school to tell me that the kidney doctor had come in and said dads kidneys were beginning to fail. His numbers were up- and that was bad- but still at this point his brain was our main concern. As I rushed back to the hospital I began praying. Lord, give me peace. I need to know that you have my dad in your arms. Instantly, the words “Give me Jesus” were spoken as if God was sitting in the seat next to me. In that moment I knew my daddy was ready to go home to be with the Lord. 

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Just give me Jesus

When I am alone
When I am alone
Oh, when I am alone
Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Just give me Jesus

Jesus
Give me Jesus

When I come to die
When I come to die
Oh, when I come to die
Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Just give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
You can have all this world
You can have all this world
Just give me Jesus

The decision was made to have a family meeting with the immediate family to discuss dad’s prognosis. By the end of day four they had completed a CAT scan and an EEG. Neurology doctor informed us that at this point dad’s prognosis is grim. He wanted to run an MRI the next day and we will then meet again. 

Day 5: MRI was performed in the late morning. By early afternoon doctor had confirmed that dad had severe brain damage and there was nothing else they could do. It was now time to make the difficult decision that no mother, father, wife, or child should ever have to make.

There seven of us were standing looking over dad’s body. The seven of us trying to grasp every detail and word that the doctor had told us. The seven of us with tears rolling down our face. Our hearts slowly breaking as we come to comprehend what was just said. A mother who should not have to lay her son to rest before she goes on ahead and prepared a place for him. A father whom has spent every single day of his son’s life either talking to him or seeing him. A brother who loved his brother more than he knew how to express. A wife that was heartbroken as she watched her children’s father lay there ready to let go knowing the suffering that he had endured day in and day out. A daughter who adored her dad so much that the thought of losing her best friend was literally slowly tearing her heart into a million little pieces. A son, who with a heart as big as gold, tells his sisters “My daddy isn’t going to come home. He is going to see Jesus.” A  daughter, the youngest of us, a mere 18 years old losing her daddy at such a young age- trying to come to grips with what is happening. 

Grief. A five letter word that no one wants to discuss. Grief a five letter word that everyone is afraid of. Was now starring us straight in the eyes. Grief has no mercy. Grief is not prejudice. Grief does not pick and choose. Grief is one of the most painful emotional, physical, psychological feelings ones heart, mind, and body can ever go through. Grief was now our future. 

The decision was made. We were turning off life support at 9 pm that night. The phone calls were made to allow time for those who wanted to come pay their last respects. The immediate family would be in the room when that time came. We would stand by dad’s side till his last breath just as he had stood by ours our entire life. 

I remember standing there holding daddy’s hand watching him as he was slowly breathing on his own. The seconds began ticking turning into minutes. The clock ticking oh so slowly. We began singing to dad old hymnals that I remembered as his favorite. Amazing Grace, Come and Dine, and Blessed Assurance- over and over. I remember watching as the numbers slowly began to fall. I remember again praying “Lord, I need peace. This is my daddy. I need him. I need his big heart and listening ears. I need him. As selfish as it is of me….I still need my daddy.” Again, I heard the words “Give me Jesus” so I began singing to my daddy with tears rolling down my face as the others were listening, praying and crying too. 

December 1, 2015 at 10:42 I watched as my daddy took his last breathe. I watched as my daddy, my best friend, my hero, my first knight in shining armor entered the magnificent gates of heaven with welcoming arms from our heavenly father.  

December 1, 2015 my heart broke into a million piece puzzle. With every tear that fell my heart broke even more. From that point on I have had to learn how to survive again. How to breathe again. I have cried more tears then I thought was even possible. Grief. The five letter word that no one likes to talk about. The word that can cause physical, mental, and emotional pain. Grief. That is now where we are as a family. 

A mother and father trying to go on and be strong-when inside they are hurting. A wife trying to pick up the pieces for her children. A daughter trying to be strong everyday helping her mom with decisions yet lying in bed every night in a puddle of tears. A son who now says “I am the man of the house!” A precious 18 year old daughter who has to face the fact that her dad will not be there to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day or be there for the birth of her children. A 12 year old granddaughter who cries herself to sleep because she misses her papa more than her heart can grasp. An 8 year old grandson who is trying to be strong- not really sure what is going on- but understands his hunting and fishing buddy is now in heaven. A 6 year old who talks about his papa daily and wants to know “how can I get to heaven to see him?” And a strong faithful son-in-law who now has to help hold the pieces together not only for his own wife and children but now also for his mother-in law, Bubba and Sisi.

That is grief in its rawest form. Painful, heartfelt grief. Grief that brings you to your knees praying to God for mercy. Grief causing more physical pain than you knew was possible. Grief. The five letter word that no one wants to talk about. Grief that at the end of the day when we are all together trying to be strong leaves us crying out together “Give me Jesus!!” because at the end of the day that is what gets us through the pain and tears. Jesus.

In Loving memory of our son, husband, daddy and papa. A faithful and honorable man.

Dewel Dwayne Allen

11/05/1959 - 12/01/2015

 

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28