You can never be ready for it

Elvin J. Wedel 1934 - 2004

My father, Elvin J. "Joe" Wedel, died on May 22, 2004, at sunset in Billings, MT. My mom told me that when she was on the way to the hospice (they had called her and told her that she should probably come back), she saw the sun going down and just knew that it was going to be THAT time.

This wasn't unexpected. Those of you who actually read this garbage know that he'd been sick for quite some time; so you might think I was ready for this, right? WRONG. There's no way that anyone, anything, at all, can prepare you for the moment you know that your father is gone, forever. When my mom called and told me, it felt like I'd been placed in front of a cannon at point blank range, right before the cannon went off. I've never felt anything like that before. Excruciating. Not even being told I have a chronic, incurable disease even comes close.

He died with everyone around him - my mom, my brother, his wife, and my niece - so he wasn't alone, and he wasn't suffering at all. Morphine will do that for you. He just slipped away.

I went out to Billings over Memorial Day weekend - one week after Dad died. This had been planned for months... and I have to admit that I was, for half a second, really pissed at my dad for not having had the common courtesy to wait for me to be able to say goodbye ... but that didn't last. In the grand scheme of things, it's likely good for my mental well-being that I didn't see him the way he was at the end. Dad had cancer, of just about everything, I think. He smoked 2 packs of Camel straights a day for 55 years. This is what that gets you. He'd had surgery to try and remove a tumor that was growing on the left side of his neck. They weren't able to get all of it out, so they went to aggressive chemotherapy. My mom and I both think now that all the chemo did was piss the cancer off, because it kept growing.

And growing.

It got to the point where Dad wasn't able to eat normally anymore because his throat had swollen so much, so he had a feeding tube put in. I remember the last time I talked to him; he said to me "all I really want is a T-bone steak". Dad, I'd have done absolutely anything so that you could have had that, I know you loved them...

About 4-5 days before he died, the hospice removed the feeding tube. (Dad had signed a DNR long ago, didn't want any machines) It was just providing fluids that he didn't need. To me, that was the signal that it wouldn't be much longer. And it wasn't.

I wish I had gotten the chance to say goodbye ... to see him one last time ... but I think he knew that a) I was really trying and b) I loved him, so I'll manage to have peace with it eventually. Right now, it's just a big weight on my heart, and it hurts, to be honest. I'll get over it, in time.

I had gotten a star named for my dad a few weeks before he died... it's somewhere in the Virgo constellation (he was a Virgo), but I never got a chance to see the star chart to find out exactly where it is. My niece told me that shortly after my dad died, she looked in the sky and saw a single star, I'd like to think that was my dad's way of winking at everyone and saying goodbye.

It was his choice to be cremated, so a funeral wasn't necessary right away. To maximize the number of family that can be there, my mom scheduled it for 6/18. I am definitely going back. If I couldn't be there when he died, the least I can do is be there when he's laid to rest. He's being inurned in Hardin somewhere; I guess I'll find out when I get there.

I'll make another entry here after I get back from the memorial ... I was intending to write more but this is just a bit draining, so I'll sign off...

Goodbye, Dad. I already miss you terribly. I love you.

---

Father can you hear me?
How have I let you down?
I curse the day that I was born...
And all the sorrow in this world...

Let me take you to the hurting ground
Where all good men are trampled down
Just to settle a bet that could not be won
Between a prideful father and his son
Will you guide me now, for I can't see
A reason for the suffering and this long misery
What if every living soul could be upright and strong
Well, then I do imagine...

There will be Sorrow
Yeah there will be Sorrow
And there will be Sorrow, no more

When all soldiers lay their weapons down
Or when all kings and all queens relinquish their crowns
Or when the only true Messiah rescues us from ourselves
It's easy to imagine...

There will be Sorrow
Yeah there will be Sorrow
And there will be Sorrow, no more

There will be Sorrow
Yeah there will be Sorrow
And there will be Sorrow, no more

There will be Sorrow
Yeah there will be Sorrow
And there will be Sorrow, no more