It has certainly been awhile since I've written last. So much has changed, and I'll get around to all that another day. Today, I'm writing more of a diary than a blog, although I'm not completely sure what the difference might be. Dateline December 2008. I was living with my wife in a duplex in Denver. I got a call from my mom that my dad was seriously ill. We all had known that his condition was bad; he had Lymphoma and Diabetes and a growing list of ailments. I thought I was ready for that call. I got the call, ready or not. My dad was in a hospital bed in Chicago dying. It was close to Christmas, so airfares were going to be hard to come by. Probably not impossible, but hard. I decided to drive instead. I really needed the hours of separation the drive allowed me anyway. I drove though a few bad snow storms, and I should have considered that foreshadowing, but my mind was not in the right place for that. I drive 14 hours directly to the hospital where my dad was. He was in good spirits. His heart was as big as it ever was, but his body was failing. I had a phone call with my brother later that evening where I suggested to him he had better get on a plane. He did, and was there at the hospital shortly thereafter. I believe it was the next day. Anyway, my brother and I got to have one last conversation with dad before the coma set in. We were sitting in his room, and he was propped up in bed and conversant. We had the opportunity to tell him that there were no bucket list items left to do. Nothing left unsaid. We didn't have to go on some manly bonding trip to Brazil or anything like that. We told him he was a good father, that he had done a good job. That we were lucky to have him and that we loved him. That was the last conversation I had with my dad. He slipped into a coma that he didn't come out of after that. The night of December 26th, everyone was so tired, they all went home for what passed for sleep at the time. It was probably more accurate to say alcohol induced stupor. I stayed a little later at the hospital for some reason that night. I just had more to say to him but I didn't know how, and maybe I thought I was running out of chances to say it. I just talked to him, telling him that I loved him one more time, and telling him about my life. All there was to hear in the room was the random buzzing and peeping of the machines that he was plugged into and the voices of the nursing staff in the hall. There was also the random moan of someone else in pain and lots of footsteps. I don't know why but I remember footsteps. Suddenly he leaned up, looked right at me and said "I'm ready to go Sarge, I'm ready to jump." I went to his side and told him to lie back down, that he should stay there, that everything was ok. He told me again that he was ready to go. I called the nurse who gave him a sedative. He was in the Air Force as a young man and for him, he was probably telling his Drill Sargent he was ready to jump out of an airplane or something like that. His face was filled with determination and fear, but somehow in his mind, he was getting ready to do something that could not be undone. He knew it, and I knew it.

The next day, December 27th at around lunchtime, 7 years ago today, he passed away. His family was all around him as he drew his last breaths. My mom told him it was ok to go. That he had fought the good fight, but it was time, and it was ok. With her hand on his chest feeling his heart beating less and less, he left. He made the jump. Good night dad.

It's a little blurry what happened after that. I was crying and hugging, and not thinking very much. I think at some point a doctor came into the room and made the official pronouncement, as if any of us had any doubt. We decided to donate his remains to the medical school and have what's left cremated. He would have wanted it that way, a teacher to the bitter end, and not wanting to take up space on this earth. My brother took care of those arrangements because I was a complete mess at the time and absolutely worthless.

My dad was a good man. He was smart, witty, resolute, charming, handsome and strong. He knew the difference between right and wrong and what it was to be a man, and he thought it was his duty to teach me those things. Lord how he tried. He never gave up on me or my brother. He was determined to raise two sons who would make the world a better place. I don't know if we do, but I think we try real hard not to make it worse. My dad loved his family. He gave us everything he had. Someday I hope to be half the man he was.

Philip Michael Cain