Eight Years Ago Today

Eight years ago today, I woke up to a beautiful, tropical day in the U.S. Virgin Islands. I was visiting the family that would eventually become my in-laws. I had just spent a grand weekend meeting my then-boyfriend's family for the first time. We were scheduled to return stateside that Monday. We decided to spend a few hours at the beach before heading to the airport.

We frolicked on the beach for an hour or so, talking about the weekend and already sad that we had to return to the real world, for my boyfriend - work, for me - school. It was the first trip I had taken with the man that would become my husband. We left the beach and headed to the airport. I had my cell phone, but it was turned off. I was trying to eek out my last bit of peace on vacation. My boyfriend usually ALWAYS had his phone on, but his battery was dying, so he had turned his off as well.

We jumped on the airplane, holding hands and napping all the way home. At the time, I lived in Miami and he lived in Atlanta. When we arrived in Miami, we hugged and said 'goodbye'. He went toward his gate; I walked out to my car parked in the parking garage at MIA. I lived less than 15 minutes from the airport. After I got to my car, I turned on my phone. My voicemail indicated I had 10 new messages. "Hmm", I thought, "that's weird." 

The 1st message was from my Mom. It sounded a little odd, slightly tense, but not worrisome. "Hey babygirl. Please give me a call when you get this message", she said.

The 2nd message was from my brother. "Hey, it's me. Call me please."

The 3rd message was from my Mom again. This time she said, "Where are you? I need to talk to you as soon as possible. Please call me." I got a lump in my throat.

The 4th message was from the Chairman of our department at school. "Julie, please call me at my office. We have been trying to get in touch with you." What? Why would the school be trying to call me? Yeah, sure, I sort of fudged about why I was missing class on Monday, but still.

The 5th message was from one of classmates and best friends. "Jules, where are you? What is going on? The school won't tell us anything. Call me please."

I don't remember the rest of the messages. I frantically called my mom.

"Mom, hey it's me. What's going on? Why is everyone trying to reach me?", I asked her.

"Sweetheart, it's bad news. Where are you?", she said. "I'm driving home from the airport. Why, what is going on?", I responded.

"Try to stay calm. I need to tell you something", her voice started to break. "It's not good, honey." A wave of panic hit. "Oh my god, something has happened. Who is it?", I said.

She said, "Sweetheart, it's really bad. I don't know how to tell you." I remember hearing her talk to someone in the background. "Oh God, is it the girls?", I asked, thinking that something horrific had happened to one of my little nieces.

"No honey. They are ok. Julie ... it's your Dad." My heart dropped. "My Dad?" I thought. I held my breath and asked my mom, "What? What happened?"

"He's gone honey. He died this morning. We have been trying to call you. We looked everywhere for you, bu ...", she said some other things. I don't remember the words. I remember screaming.

"Oh my God, NOOOOOOO! Not Daddy. No. No. No. No. No." I sobbed. Mom kept saying "I'm so sorry.". She begged me to pull over, worrying that I was going to have a wreck. I pulled over on some random street in Coral Gables. I tumbled out of my car, dropping my cell phone. I could vaguely hear my Mom calling my name. My head was spinning. I was howling. I vomited on the street next to my car. Then I sat down on the street and wailed.

After I'm not sure how many minutes, I picked up my phone. My frantic Mom was yelling at her sister telling her to call the police in Coral Gables. She thought I had had a wreck, I think. "I'm here Mom.", I told her. She kept saying "I'm so sorry. I'm sooooo sorry. Are you ok?"

I asked her a bunch of questions. "What happened? Where was he? Where is my brother? When did this happen?" and many more I can't even remember. The details were kind of vague. He was found near his car at the park where he walked every morning. It appeared to be a heart attack. A passerby found him. No one knew how long he had been there.

Wait, my dad dropped dead all alone? Did he suffer? How long was he laying there? Who found him? Did they help him? Did anyone try to revive him? Did someone do something to him? (he was a former cop). My head was swirling. I called my boyfriend back. By this time, he had already found out. He had tried to call me about 10 times while I was talking to my mom. I don't remember it at all. He was crying and telling me it would be ok. Asking me, "What can I do baby?". I just remember saying over and over, "My Daddy is gone. He's gone."

Somehow, I drove the 5 or 6 blocks home. I stumbled out of my car, leaving the door open and all my luggage in the car. My dogs jumped all over me, kissing me and welcoming me home when I walked through the door. I collapsed on the floor and cried. Hard. Screamed. I heard the phone ring several times. I couldn't even answer it. I called my brother. He was strong for about 5 seconds. Then he started to sob, "He is gone, Julie. I can't believe it, he is gone". I've only seen him cry one other time in my life. We talked about what to do next. We felt so helpless. We tried to talk about some funeral planning, but we just couldn't. I told him I would fly home as soon as I could catch a flight.

I talked to many more people that day. I don't really remember a lot of the conversations. I felt like I was in a glass box; people were talking, but I couldn't really hear them. I was totally lost in my thoughts. Totally crushed. Totally shocked. I spent that night crying in my bed while my two best friends watched helplessly.

Four days later, they buried him. I wore a dark green suit. I refused to wear black. I wore my hair the way he always liked it. I spoke at the service; oddly, I don't remember much of what I said. This is the first time I've ever written about those days, even though I've reflected on them many times.

I have since gotten engaged, moved back home, gotten married, received my PhD, had two children, and many many other milestones. Each have been bittersweet without him. We had a contentious relationship for most of my adult life, until the last few years of his life. I've always struggled with that since his death. I am so glad we were able to fix our relationship, but a mourn for the time lost in between. I mourn for him. I have many funny and good memories of him, including his wake. I still visit his gravesite, though I prefer just talking to him whenever I feel like it or whenever I feel his presence.

I love him.

I miss him.