As I was driving to the county house of records I started thinking of my dad. I haven't mentioned much about my parents so I would like to take this opportunity to talk about my dad. I loved him dearly. I remember him always laughing, I remember how gentle and loving he was. I remember going with him every Friday to cash his check at the liquor store. He always got a 6 pack of beer and 4 club drinks. Mai Tai's. 2 for him and 2 for my mom. She didn't like beer so he drank them all. I remember him throwing up every night. It sounded like gallons and gallons of vomit. My room was by the bathroom and I remember hearing him throw up and being so frightened by the sound. I was young so throwing up signaled that someone was "really sick". But yet I don't remember the next morning. I don't remember any mention of him throwing up or being under the weather. It was as though it never happened. I don't remember if I asked about it, if there was a discussion about it or if my parents mentioned it in an attempt too explain and reassure us. My next memory is of my dad coming to pick me up from school. I was in the 2nd grade. He picked my sister and I early from school. We headed to the county hospital where his father was in a coma.
Now, I don't remember much of my grandfather but what I do remember was that we would see him walking along the street as we went on our business. My dad always seemed surprised to see him and would immediately stop the car to pick him up. As a young girl my perception was that he was old and smelled. My dad would drive him wherever he said he was going but I remember my dad looking sad about it. I have a vivid memory of my sisters birthday one year when we went to China Town in the city. My grandfather came because my dad wanted to include him and my grandfather brought along his best friend. His best friend was a homeless drunk, excuse me for being blunt but that's what I think of when I think about him. Even as a young girl I could see it. It's taken me many years to figure out why/how my grandfather became to be best friends with him.
So now my grandfather is in a coma. He was found passed out on the street in the middle of a storm. He was taken to the hospital and his family was contacted. My father was grief stricken over it. He called my mom and asked her to come with him to the hospital. She was at work and felt that she couldn't leave so she suggested he take my sister and I for moral support. So he went and picked us up early from school and we went with him. I remember it felt like I was at the hospital for days, endlessly. After that I don't remember anything until the day my dad died.
I remember that a pizza franchise had opened up near our home. It was new and geared towards family/children. My mom picked me and my sister up from school and headed to the pharmacy next to the new pizza place. She had taken my dad to the dr that morning and he was diagnosed with hepatitis. She needed to fill his prescriptions and since we were in the same parking lot of the new pizza place my sister and I begged her to let us play a few games before heading home. She reluctantly agreed and we headed to the pizza place while we waited for the prescriptions. I remember having the best time and trying to convince my mom to stay when she said it was time to leave.
When we got home my mom opened the door and rushed to the couch. My dad was spread out on the couch bleeding from his chin, lips and nose. He also had various cuts on his arms and legs. Apparently he had gotten up to get the mail and fallen flat on his face. The cuts/scrapes were from him dragging himself back inside. Although now I KNOW it wasn't my fault, at the time and for many years after I felt responsible. If I hadn't begged my mom to stop by the pizza place my dad wouldn't have fallen. My next memory is of my mom leading us in our nightly prayers. She ended it with, "Please take care of daddy and make him better" I prayed along with her and drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that my daddy would be ok.
I woke up in the early morning to the sound of my mom throwing up and lots of people in our house. My dad had died in the bed next to my mom. When she realized he wasn't breathing (he had been wheezing the past few weeks) she called 911. By the time they got to our house there was nothing they could do. He was gone. I don't want to say that my mom was insensitive or a bad mother but in the midst of her grief she couldn't be bothered. It was too much for her to tend to my sister and I. We looked to her for explanations, reassurance, comfort but she was unable to give it to us.
Whew, talk about a tangent!
As I was driving to the courthouse it occurred to me that I had never seen my dad's death certificate. I've asked my mom what it said, the cause if death, etc but she has always said she doesn't remember. She also doesn't remember where her copy of the death certificate is. It feels as though my decision to stop drinking is intimately connected to my dad's death so I want to know what the coroner said he died from. I've thought about his death certificate before but never had a reason to head to the court house and request a copy. So since I was headed to the courthouse to request a copy of S's birth certificate I decided to order a copy of my dad's death certificate. Since he was born before 1995 it will be delivered within 15 days via mail...
Edit to add: I posted this without reading it. I just finished reading it and want to clarify a few items. My grandfather was a homeless alcoholic. He would drift from relatives homes but for the most part he was on the streets. His wife, my grandmother, died when my father was about 8 years old. There are conflicting stories about what exactly happened to her. From what I've gathered is that she was mentally ill. I have no idea if that is true or not. I've also heard that my grandfather used to physically abuse her. She was in a relationship before the one she had with my grandfather. That marriage resulted in 4 daughters. Somehow she left that relationship and her daughters. She married my grandfather and went on to have 7 children, one a year. When my father was 8 his mothers daughters from her previous relationship 'found' her and 'forced' her to return with them to Mexico. After she left my grandfather was unable to care for his children. The girls were sent to live with an older aunt and the boys were basically left to fend for themselves. My father cried for weeks after his mother left. All of the children did. Later he heard that she had died in a horrible car accident shortly after she left. He also heard a conflicting story that she died in a fire. There is an old picture in a photo album that belongs to my parents of a unmarked grave with a simple wooden cross on it. My father was told that was where his mother was buried.
Although my grandfather was unable to properly care for his children my father was very loyal to his father. He loved his father dearly. When his father died (the cause of his death is unknown. The family decided not to have an autopsy performed) I remember my dad telling me that he couldn't live without his father. He said he was going to die too. I don't know if I believed him or not. Exactly 5 months to the day his father died my dad died. They are buried together.
Edit to add: I posted this without reading it. I just finished reading it and want to clarify a few items. My grandfather was a homeless alcoholic. He would drift from relatives homes but for the most part he was on the streets. His wife, my grandmother, died when my father was about 8 years old. There are conflicting stories about what exactly happened to her. From what I've gathered is that she was mentally ill. I have no idea if that is true or not. I've also heard that my grandfather used to physically abuse her. She was in a relationship before the one she had with my grandfather. That marriage resulted in 4 daughters. Somehow she left that relationship and her daughters. She married my grandfather and went on to have 7 children, one a year. When my father was 8 his mothers daughters from her previous relationship 'found' her and 'forced' her to return with them to Mexico. After she left my grandfather was unable to care for his children. The girls were sent to live with an older aunt and the boys were basically left to fend for themselves. My father cried for weeks after his mother left. All of the children did. Later he heard that she had died in a horrible car accident shortly after she left. He also heard a conflicting story that she died in a fire. There is an old picture in a photo album that belongs to my parents of a unmarked grave with a simple wooden cross on it. My father was told that was where his mother was buried.
Although my grandfather was unable to properly care for his children my father was very loyal to his father. He loved his father dearly. When his father died (the cause of his death is unknown. The family decided not to have an autopsy performed) I remember my dad telling me that he couldn't live without his father. He said he was going to die too. I don't know if I believed him or not. Exactly 5 months to the day his father died my dad died. They are buried together.
