Letter # 4 - 2011 | Dad's Passing | Core Memory
In which Teófilo ties a loose end in his memoirs.
Brethren:
Glory be to Jesus Christ! Glory now and forever!
I was remiss on telling you how my relationship with my Dad ended up in my memoirs. Let me fill you in.
Once stabilized, my relationship with my Dad remained stable until the end. I would call and talk to him and his wife at least every month. I would talk to my siblings and everything was good. But I wasn't privy of his mental deterioration until much later.
He started complaining during calls about having memory lapses. His complaints were humorous and dismissive and I took them as such. Then there was a red flag that I ignored.
In 2008 I told him about Mercie's impending surgery to relieve her Chiari symptoms. I called him soon after the surgery and left a message on his voice mail, indicating the surgery went well. He soon called back and left a message on my machine—offering his condolences for Mercie’s passing! I called him back right away to clear up what I thought was a mix-up. He sounded confused, but accepted my explanation.
It wasn’t until a visit in 2010 that my stepmother casually mentioned the word “Alzheimer’s.” That’s when I learned Dad had been diagnosed—six years earlier, back in 2004. I suppose they leaned on my siblings to tell me, but my siblings would've thought it wasn't their place. As a consequence, no one told me until that moment.
The year 2011 started off fine, unless you count being called back to active duty and deployed to Afghanistan. I found myself looking forward to the mission despite its dangers. I welcomed leaving the NDIC which at that time was circling around the drain. Leaving Mercie and the family was tough. Dad seemed in stable good health.
He decayed fast. In the summer Dad ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. Then he moved to a nursing home as he needed constant care.
Dad was in the home when I talked to him last. My brother facilitated a video call. He didn't want to eat. He said "this is what happens when one reaches the end of one's life." I heard my brother in the background, saying "Papi, don't say that." I remember thinking "That's exactly what I would've said. There's no need to paint over it with bright colors." But I said nothing. Dad kept saying "My son my son!" We ended the call. I promised to call back.
Dad died in October 2011. I got permission to travel to Florida to say goodbye. Mercie and Chris joined me. Jon was busy with midterms as a sophomore in college.
I saw Dad's remains at the funeral home. He was still dressed in his hospital gown, his mouth open a little, his face relaxed. He was being readied for cremation and they were only waiting on me to do it. I swallowed my feelings as I had to return to fight a war on the other side of the world. To this day I haven't mourned for him properly.
And that, was that.
Despite the time we’ve spent together I didn’t know him as best as I could’ve. Yet, I know I take a lot after him. In knowing myself, I get to know him.
