And just needed to get this off my chest.

As you all know my father passed on Father’s Day a few days after surgery. A blood clot went to his lungs and killed him.

On Mother’s Day we went down to Maryland for a Mother’s Day tea, my youngest sister, the 17 year old baby of the family, played the viola (and very well I might add) in an orchestra. The same day my youngest nephew was dedicated during an evening service. The week before that day for some reason I became obsessed with the fact that since everyone would be together for the first time in ages, that we just had to get a photo of the entire family. All 7 children, 2 husbands and 3 out of 4 of the grandchildren. So we all met up at the church and after my precious little Preston was dedicated we gathered around and had this photo taken:

After the service Kris and I were trying to avoid the long car ride home and we were all sitting around and I had this feeling wash over me. My father was sitting across the living room and suddenly a still small voice told me that my father was going to get sick and everything was going to be okay, but that I would need to be strong. Instantly I blocked the thought from my mind. But the feeling didn’t leave.

That Thursday May 15th my father was diagnosed with a degenerative disease in his spine at the nape of his neck, just a few a few days after Mother’s Day. From that day on I think my father knew he was going to die. He called every single person in the family, and cleared the air with them asking if there was anything they needed to discuss. He made it a point to let each child know that he loves us, and was proud of us. He told my mother how much he loved her and what needed to be done if he passed. At the burial site the pastor (who he co-pastored with) even told us that my father told him what to say at the funeral.

A few days before his surgery I was laying across the bed answering emails and the same feeling I had before washed over me again. But this time something told me that my father was going to die but that I needed to be strong. This time the same a peace came over me. A deep peace and I felt like everything was going to be okay. After putting my head down to soak it in, I again ignored it thinking that I am just being dramatic, and that my dad was going to be okay.

The week before my dad died we drove down to spend time with him. The had been instructed to wear a brace on his neck because the bones had degenerated so much that if he had been in a fender bender that he would have been paralyzed. It was difficult to see my father, my hero, encumbered by such an awkward apparatus. He couldn’t turn to the left or the right, he couldn’t bend down. It held him perfectly still. When I came in the house I sat down and talked with him. I couldn’t shake this deep sadness that settled into my being. We all sat around talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

When I had talked to him the day before I told him I would bring it down the next Saturday when we came to see him. He said that’s fine don’t worry about it and that he was glad to be home from the hospital and that he would see me soon.

The day my father died I hadn’t called him yet to say Happy Father’s Day. I hadn’t put his Father’s Day card in the mail. My friend and her husband had come over for dinner and we were just about to clean up and the phone rang and it was my sister Rae. I said, “Oh no! She is calling to say why haven’t you called you father yet.” We all laughed. WHen I answered the phone she told me that Dad had passed out and that mom found him in their master bathroom. They didn’t think he had been breathing but she and my oldest sister had done CPR and that he was in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and everyone was getting in their cars to go. She told me I had to call my younger Brother Jere and let him know.

After hearing what she said I immediately went into shock. I was afraid that all my fears had come true. I ran upstairs to pack followed by my friend Melissa. I was hysterical, and she said go get socks, I got socks and put it in the suitcase, she said go get shirts I went and got shirts and put them in the suitcase. My husband called my brother, and told him we’d pick him up on the way down.

We were out of the house within a half an hour. Driving down to Maryland no one called me. No one text me to tell me my father was okay. The closer we got the heavier my heart became. I text one of my best friends and told her no one called. She text me back some assurance, but told me I shouldn’t call them but to wait until I got to the hospital.

When we got to the red light before the hospital, I called Rae’s phone. My older sister Misha answered. She said come to the emergency room entrance and that I would see everyone there. She didn’t tell me that my dad was okay.

We parked I hopped out, grabbed Gabrielle and walked as fast as I could to the door. It seemed to take forever. When I was halfway there a friend of the family walked out the entrance towards me but she wouldn’t look in my eyes. I said, “Tonya, Tonya, look at me. Look at me. Don’t tell me.” When she finally looked at me she was about 20 yards away. I could tell in her eyes he was dead.

Her eyes were filled with tears and she just shook her head and said “I am sorry, I am sorry.” After that I don’t remember much except trying to scream louder and louder and thinking, “Why can’t I scream any louder to make the pain feel less.”

And then I saw a bunch of nurses running towards us with a wheelchair. After a few seconds I realized the chair was for me and that I had gone into shock. I got myself together and walked into the hospital. My family was there, my aunts, uncles, cousins, my mom-mom who is my dad’s mother. Everyone was full of such sadness. It seemed like a dream. My father looked like he was so peaceful. It was as if he had fallen asleep and wasn’t dead. I kept thinking I saw his chest rise with breathing.

Even after a month his death didn’t seem real to me. I was on auto pilot. It wasn’t until my husband and I went to the retreat where he was supposed to be that it became real. He was supposed to me there not me. He was supposed to be having fun with all of his friends, not Kris and I. It hit me hard in such a way that it took the strength from me. I didn’t have Gabrielle to look after, she was with my mom, I didn’t have my laptop or emails to keep my mind occupied. I just had myself and a deep ache in my heart that I had to face. That weekend my father’s death became real to me and it has been real ever since. I can’t ignore it, I can’t deny it I have to face it, and its been hard. But I have been making it through.

This year has been the hardest year of my life. When I married I was in graduate school with the intent of becoming a Professor of Art or African American Art History. A month after being married I was accidentally pregnant. I fought with God asking him why he was taking my goals away from me at this time. I had been commuting to D.C. to go to classes and critiques. When I was pregnant I kept getting into fender benders (2 ~ I have no idea why….lol) But it made it unsafe for me to drive back and forth. I decided to start my own business and fell in love with cloth diapering so I decided to take this huge plunge. It has been the biggest roller coaster of my life. I have learned so incredibly much this year. I have made plenty mistakes, but I have learned from them, and I continue to learn more each day.

I have become stronger because of the hurdles, more loving because of my daughter and husband and tougher because of the trails. It has been a hard journey but its been worth the obstacles.

At the hospital when my dad died the Pastor, his best friend, said that my father’s favorite hymn was, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” so he prayed and we all sang a verse of that hymn. That song reminded us that though we are not in control, God is. He knows our every trouble and will carry every single burden. My favorite version of this song was recorded by Mahalia Jackson. I just wanted to share this song with you and I hope that it will comfort you as it has comforted me, and my father when he was alive.

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