pop goes the weasel and the weasel goes pop

Boys come and boys go.  I have always dealt with heartbreak with bravado, picking myself up and moving on like an Olympic champion.  The constants in my life have always been my family, my son, Luke and more recently Alex.  I know that I always have my sisters, no matter what, they are always there along with my parents.  They have redefined unconditional support with an intensity that goes unchallenged.  I don't have a lot of memorable heartbreak, just one.  The worst heartbreak I ever experienced was standing in the corner of a hospital room watching my grandmother say goodbye to my father before he passed away.  Her eyes bared an unbelievable sadness that mirrored what my heart couldn't put into words.

My father was a people person.  He gathered everyone, he fed everyone, he wined and dined....and had an insurmountable love for his four daughters that went on for his lifetime after each of us was born, despite his concern for the sons he really hoped for.  He loved taking us out on his boat on hot summer days with coolers full of food and drink, sunscreen, and so much enthusiasm for the things he loved in life.

He knew that his days were numbered and ran from it.  Coming to terms with his vices was not an easy task, but he eventually did when he had a series of heart attacks in February of 2009.  He was given a new lease on life when he was placed on the liver transplant list.  A list that he thought he would never qualify for with his past lifestyle, but he did it and deserved it.  His hospital stays became more frequent as he fought bouts of lucidity towards the end stages of liver disease.  He kept bouncing back and it was hard for us to differentiate between a serious hospital stay or a pre-bouncing back of a temporary setback.

He would be gone one sec and you'd be sitting by his bedside holding his hand and he'd wake up and say "hey baby!", and be himself again.  Such relief.  It would be our jobs to clean him up and get him on track.  We would look for things to help brighten him up and give him something to look forward to.  I remember one time going into his hospital room and finding him unshaven.  I loved helping him clean up and shaving him because Danielle was on her way and he wanted to look good for her visit. Maybe I knew I had to soak up what I could, while I could.

When it came time for him to go to Strong Memorial in Rochestor, NY for a critical moment in his life, his place on the list was very near the top and his health was declining quickly, my sisters and I rushed to his side.    His side, where we stayed for days, around the clock.  We put all of our will power and faith into the fact that his eyes would open, he would say "hey baby!" just a few more times before the moment of reckoning came, but it never did happen.  He was number one on the list and his kidneys were failing and it got to the point where they were not going to ever function fully again.  We were forced with the fact that we would have to take him off of life support and give up.  We just weren't the type to ever give up on anything, especially him.

We got to spend time with him, intimately, holding his hand, praying...praying...and the doctors and nurses walked by his room looking in on us sympathetically, because they knew what we didn't want to accept.  We made the decision everyone was waiting for us to make and took him off of life support.  He left us peacefully.  It was the biggest heartbreak and almost too much to bare.  We said goodbye and let him go.