twenty years

I was home from college. The only quarter I ever took off. Miss Nose-To-The-Grindstone never could see the logic in taking summers off. But, this particular one I did.
My parents had just moved. We had lived in the same small town in NC for nearly 20 years, but Dad got a new job. So my first time driving home from college (Auburn) to western NC was odd. I was driving to a place I'd never been before. My new home. But, I had no idea how to get there.
Once off the interstate, I had to call to get directions. My Dad figured out where I was and drove to meet me and I followed him to the new house.
Wow. Steep driveway. Nice house. Different than anything I'd ever lived in, but, still very traditional.
That summer I spent trying to get my bedroom decorated. I got a part time job as a hostess at the local hotel's restaurant. I met a couple of people who were around my same age and although we never hung around together outside of work, it was fun to joke around with them during work.
One night my sister and I were staying up late watching some movie on tv. I don't even remember what it was. I do, however, remember one of the commercials - a public service announcement. It was about the signs and symptoms of a heart attack. What to look for, when to seek medical attention. I took the information in and tucked it away to use "someday".
The next day ("someday") dawned. Our family - Mom, Dad, Liz and I, spent the day together just goofing, relaxing, playing games. We were planning on grilling out that night. I had a "first date" that night and the guy was going to come over and eat steaks with us.
Early in the afternoon, Dad mentioned that he must have pulled a muscle in his chest. "It feels tight," was his explanation. Remembering the PSA I had seen the night before, I said, "Hey, Dad, maybe you should go get seen at the ER, you could be having a heart attack." And I proceeded to regurgitate the information I had learned from the commercial.
"Nah, I've had this before. It'll go away. Your Mom and I are going to lie down for a bit. Take a little nap." Time passes.
We are all busily preparing for grilling out. I remember the steaks were top notch. We were all looking forward to a delicious meal and I was really looking forward to my parents meeting Tony. He was a good-ol-boy who had grown up in the small town in which we now lived. The son of a farmer. I could imagine him on a tractor. He had a really nice smile.
Doorbell rings. I am still upstairs. Putting on mascara. I hear my Mom answer the door and I holler down the stairs "be right there!" Tony introduces himself to Mom and Dad and the two guys decide to go out and light the grill. I hear the back storm door close.
Thud.
Then I hear Tony's voice telling my Mom to call 911.
I knew.
I turned to my sister and said, "Dad is having a heart attack."
I ran downstairs and Tony and I performed CPR. I remember the sound of the air coming back out of his mouth. Don't leave sweet Daddy.
The EMTs got on the scene some time later - seemed to be days - and though they did the paddle thing several times, gave him heparin (I think that's right) shots. They loaded him into the ambulance and drove - slowly inched along - to the hospital where they took him into the ER and did more of the same.
The doctor came in to tell us that they did everything they could for as long as they could and his heart never responded. He said we could go back there and spend as much time as we wanted to.
I remember walking in and just staring. My sweet Daddy. Lifeless. "Ok, Dad, this isn't funny. Please suck in a huge lung full of air and do that silly face and say tah-dah." (He loved to do magic tricks.) The EMTs had to remove his shirt to do the paddle things and I noticed that all the blood had pooled along his back. Now I knew it wasn't a magic trick. My insides were screaming, "NOOOO" and my legs were weak. Before we left, my Mom asked a nurse to help her remove the wedding band that had been there more than 20 years.
We lingered as long as we could and then in silence drove home. We had not eaten dinner. We stared at the uncooked steaks that we had been looking so forward to. None of us were hungry. We stood there in the kitchen and wept. After awhile, weary from the day, and knowing the next few days were going to be an unwelcome whirlwind of activity we climbed the stairs and prepared for bed. None of us wanted to be alone. I wondered, "How could Mom get into bed? The same one she and Dad had just taken an afternoon siesta in just a few short hours ago? Would she be scared? Lonely? Frightened?"
For some odd reason, I had to shave my legs that night and I remember sitting on the edge of the tub, my teardrops mingling with the water swishing around the drain. My sweet Daddy. He'll never meet the boy I am to marry. He will never bounce his grandchildren on his knee, never tell them jokes and delight in their laughter, he will never do magic tricks for them - not even the infamous watch-my-balled-up-napkin-disappear-after-dinner trick - or the even more famous trick: Pull My Finger.
After finally climbing into bed I prayed. I remember learning recently that we must praise God in all things. Not just praise the good stuff and bitch about the bad stuff. All things. "Lord, I have no idea why you decided to take my sweet Daddy home today. You must have a reason. I know that I cannot even begin to see the bigger picture. Thank you, Lord, for keeping him safe and please continue to protect us and get us through this nightmare. Perhaps in time, Lord, I may use this experience to help someone else who might be going through the same thing."

Twenty years ago. Seems like yesterday. Seems like forever.