Dad's Last Game

Dad’s Last Game

On Valentine’s Day, it’s been is our family tradition for Skip (my husband) and I and our boys (Casey, 13 and Kyle, 11) to stop at the Dairy Queen on Higgins Avenue to get ice cream. After all, it’s the first day they’re open after a long winter of being closed. It’s been our family tradition since the boys were old enough to appreciate the novelty. On this Valentine’s Day, the kids and I got an extra milkshake for my dad who was now in a nursing care facility. My 84-year-old, strong Norwegian Father had a rough year. After falling and breaking his hip, he was in and out of the ER and rehab facility, and now finally in a nursing home. It was hard on him and excruciating for us.

But on this day, he was happy to see us and grateful for the milkshake. We were all chatting and getting caught up but quickly noticed dad couldn’t swallow his milkshake. We were hopeful. A few months before, dad had a small stroke and was having problems swallowing but we thought he was better. We thought wrong. I was struggling and trying to be strong for dad and as usual he was trying to be strong for me. This was an old pattern.  I had this knot in my stomach telling me he will never be able to swallow again. He will never be the same.

Dad turned to the boys and asked about their hockey games. Who were they playing? What was the score? He wanted all the details. After the boys excitedly filled him in on all their hockey happenings, there was a moment of silence.  Dad bowed his head and very quietly said, “I just wish I could see one more game before I go”.

Fighting back the tears, I told him that Casey had his state championship game in Missoula (our home town) in March and maybe he would be strong enough to come watch them win a state championship! There was really no part of me that believed he would be well enough to go to another hockey game, but I said it anyway.  Dad just looked at me and quietly commented, “Wouldn’t that be something”.

I always felt sad leaving, but I was particularly sad this night. But I was strong for my boys as we had to go home and get ready for homework and bed.

A few days later, Dad began to show signs of improvement. We honestly couldn’t believe it. He miraculously started eating again and he was stronger and doing better in his physical therapy sessions. We truly were witnessing a miracle. We began to wonder, could he go to another hockey game?

As March arrived, we began to make tentative plans to possibly bring Dad to one of Casey’s games. The plan was to wait for the game schedule depending on how the team performed in the tournament and also to make sure he was strong enough to make the outing.

The weekend was finally here, and wouldn’t you know, the team won their first game on Friday. Here we go! The next game would be the semifinal on Saturday night. I called my brother, Lloyd, to bring dad to the rink on Sunday. I would let him know the time of the game as we didn’t know yet if they would be playing for first place or third depending on the outcome of the semifinal game.

I called Lloyd after the game on Saturday, We Won! Bring Dad to the rink at 1:00, we’re playing for the championship!

Dad was so excited and couldn’t wait to talk to me Sunday morning. However, he often would forget to call me on my cell phone and instead would call the land line. The problem was he couldn’t hear me on that line

Dad: “Hello Betty?”

Me: “Hi dad!”

Dad: “Hello Betty?”

Me: (much louder now) “HI DAD!”

Dad: “When’s Lloyd going to get here?”

Me “Oh, about 1:00”

Dad: “He’s stuck in the fog?”

Me: (screaming now) “1:00!!”

Dad: “Tomorrow?”

Me: “Dad, I’ll call you back on my cell phone so you can hear me.”

I’m completely worn out after my very loud conversation with my dad but when I looked up my husband was looking at me with a huge grin on his face.

It’s a beautiful spring day and my dad is at the ice rink watching my son play hockey in the championship game of the tournament. I can’t believe it. It’s March 18, what would have been my mom’s 80^th birthday.  Thirty-two years ago, on this day, she died of cancer on her birthday. We always call March 18^th “Deanne Day” - And here we are, on Deanne Day, with my dad at the rink, watching my son play hockey.  I was an emotional wreck.

I remember it being a good game, but what I remember most is Casey getting a breakaway, skating right in front of my dad, and scoring a goal! Grandpa couldn’t have been prouder. That day we won the championship game but there was so much more. My family, my dad, my brother and sister all watching along with the essence of my mom. She was there too, watching and waiting for dad.

I remember going to the nursing facility a few days later. When I walked in, I found dad in the dining room having lunch with friends and bragging about his grandson. He seemed proud and happy.  A few days after that, I was on my way to the ER. Dad had fallen and punctured a lung. He didn’t look good. The Doctors’ assured me he would be fine. He didn’t seem fine. I remember my sisters we’re away that weekend to watch my niece and nephew ski race so my best friend from Washington drove 5 hours to be with me. We, along with my brother, sat with dad. We let him know we loved him, we hugged him, and told him it was OK to go now.  We assured him we would be OK.

They were moving him. I was pleading with the Doctor to let him stay, but they said he was stable and would be fine. I didn’t trust he would be fine. Then Dad looked right at me and asked, “Betty are you going to the party?” I responded, “What party Dad?” He told me “they” were planning a big party for him and everyone was going to be there; the Parmeters (my mom’s family), the dogs, everyone. He was very excited and humbled. My dad was always a quiet man and he seemed quite taken with this process.

He paused for a moment and said, “Can you hear that? They’re building a stage. They’ve been planning this a long time. Are you going to get on stage Betty?”  I smiled, “Not this time Dad.”

When the EMT’s came to transfer Dad, he was excited. It was as if a limo just pulled up to give him a ride. He was going to the party where he was guest of honor. He was giddy!  Later that night, when we went back to check on him, he was lying in his bed wearing his green fleece vest over his hospital gown with his old trusted Glacier Raft Company hat on - the one he always put on as he walked out the door. He looked happy and peaceful.

Me: “Dad, how are you?”

Dad nods his head and gives me a thumbs up.

Me: “Are you ready for the party?”

Dad: “Almost” he says, “Almost.”

The next morning, I got the phone call that Dad had a heart attack in the night and passed and to quickly get to the hospital. I remember I didn’t move very quickly. I think I was in shock. I took a shower and paused; I couldn’t believe it. It had been 8 days since the championship game. And now dad had his own party to attend where he would meet mom and his family and be the guest of honor. 

Cheers to you dad. Just save a dance for me but - not yet.

Note: It’s been 13 years since dad has passed. The “boys” now have graduated from college and are out in the world. Too many hockey and soccer games to count later, I still remember this one.  -Betty Higgins