As most of you know, almost two weeks ago my dad died. He was only 45 and -- as if I don't already know this -- people that hear about it, tell me everyday "He was so young." Yeah, no shit sherlock, like I don't already fucking know that. It was a complete shock and that day, my dad...everything about that day will be embedded in my mind for the rest of my life. We'll start from the beginning, that Friday.
So, Friday rolled around and everything was honky dorie. I'd turned in my time sheet for work, my supervisor was talking raises and better positions and more responsibilities, we were on the track to our new house and everything was good. That Friday, my dad and mom went and checked out the house, dad signed the papers and everything was so good. Then, they came to pick me up for work. Sister had to work that night, and wanted to go out of town the next day with her friends. Friday night, we went home. We had the option of going out to dinner but I decided not to, I was dead tired and so was mom and dad. Instead, we opted for some KFC and I watched SmackDown! for the first time in....months. I ate some chicken, so mac and cheese, some mashed'tators and gravy and a roll. I had some sprite. I remember everything about that weekend and its completely uncanny that I actually can. But it was the absolute worst of my life, a weekend I'll never forget. That night, he went with my uncle Bel to his house, like he normally would. He stayed there until late and then came home, stayed up until 2 or so, and went to bed just like he always did. He checked on me, I was asleep, he made sure I -- and Gizzie -- were covered and okay, gave me a kiss and went to bed. How did I know? Because I knew my dad. He did this every night for twenty-one years, his routine was like clock work to me.
Saturday came around and it was another normal day. Dad had to work that day and left well before 7am and got home just before 5. Sister decided not to go on her trip, she claims it was because of me. I had told her, the night before, "Who would take us to work, if dad had to work on Monday?!" My dad's car was in the shop and he used mine, so I had to rely on her to chauffer me around. It was her sisterly duty. So she told dad, before he left, that she was going to stay home because of me. She slept and I woke up and stayed up that day. I played around a little online, as much as I could when the fucking thing wouldn't disconnect me. Dad came home that night, from work, and sister and I got into it. Not like a real fight, just joking around. I was like 'Why did you blame me for not going...I said nothing! I just asked a question. Not like I'd hate you if you went anyway.' and she said that 'She didn't believe me.' Later that night, when dad went for dinner, she said that she had a bad feeling in her stomach about going. Like she knew something was going to happen. [Ironic, dont'cha think?]. Dad came home with the burgers and, like always, food was missing. I told them that this place always shorted us food and cheated us or over-charged, but they still went with it. And what'd they do? Short us food. So dad got mad, got in the car and drove back. Surprisingly, he wasn't mad and didn't raise all hell, he was much more calm then natural. If you knew my dad, you'd know that he doesn't fly for stuff like that. He came home with the food we were owed and we enjoyed a family meal together. He went to my uncles, like always, but only stayed for a little bit. I cleaned my room [some-what] and washed my sheets and blankets. I dried them. When my dad came home, I was ready for bed. I wasn't feeling good. [Kind of like now]. I put the sheets on my bed and dad helped. Why? 'Cause the bed he bought me, it's just really weird and I hate it to pieces. He knew I was feeling sick, so he gave me medicine and I fell asleep. He covered me -- my blankets were still drying -- and he tended his nightly business. He sat outside a few times, smoked a ciggie or two -- or three -- and sat in the living room watching re-runs of Mash, like he always did. The last thing he said to me, was "I love you too" when I told him, that I loved him. He gave me a kiss and that was the last time I saw my father alive. God, it's so hard for me to say that...I just...I...ugh!
Then came Sunday. The worst day of my entire twenty-one years of living. I was sound asleep, at least for a while. I heard nothing, not a peep, not a sound, not a fucking thing. Until... It was about a quarter 'til 7...maybe a quarter after 7, thats all a blurr to me. I heard the sounds of heavy stomps in the house, really heavy, like someone running. It woke me up, but not fully. I closed my eyes, thinking it was mom playing with Cody. Then I heard the scream. The worst scream ever. My sister was screaming, at the top of her lungs. I jumped and woke up almost instantaneously. I heard my mom scream, somewhat anyway and then the banging on my wall. I leaped out of bed -- practically over the headboard of my bed -- and pulled my door open violently, and rushed out. My mom was on the phone and the first thing running t hrough my mind, was it was the Rehab Center calling my mom about my grandma; she had died. Never, in a million years, would I have expected to see what I saw next. My dad...laying on the ground in the bathroom, completely nude and unconscious. I know, I know, nude? Yeah...nude. Apparantly, he had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up, at five in the morning, or so, and crawled into bed. Mom asked him "Did you fall asleep on the couch again?" and he responded with "Yeah, I guess I did. Then I heard the sirens and saw all these lights...I woke up." My mom then asked "Sirens? Huh?" and dad simply replied "Yeah, I guess they had a party down the street and there are fire trucks, cops and an ambulence out there...they must've been fighting or something." They shrugged it off and went to bed. Later that morning, he woke up again and went to the bathroom. Mom woke up and then she drifted to sleep. Cody was barking, he wanted out, so she let him out. She laid back down and fell asleep again, or so she thinks. She woke up, because she'd begun to smell something funny in the house. What? I don't know...I was asleep and I don't remember any of this. She didn't even know how long dad had been gone, but he wasn't in bed when she woke up. So she opened the door and immediately looked to the kitchen, not even acknowledging the bathroom, that was to the left of her or the door that was open to the bathroom. She figured the smell was from the kitchen and began to freak and went to call for my dad. As she turned, she swung to her left and came face to face with a fate that was...wel, life changing...to say the very least. She saw my dad on the floor, and frooze. Only for a second or two, but still. She ran to the living room ,grabbed the cordless phone and headed to the front of the house, to my sisters room. She woke her up and said "Melissa hurry...there's something wrong with your dad...." and they both ran to the bathroom. That was the foot steps I'd heard when I first opened my eyes and began to rumble about some. When sister went to the bathroom -- or, at least, around the corner to the bathroom -- and saw dad, she began to scream. Those were the screams that woke me up.
I leaped out of bed and headed out of the room as she banged on my door. Mom was on the phone with 9-1-1, as any sane person would do in a situation such as this. As I came running around the corner, thinking it was bad news about granny, what I saw shocked me half to death. It wasn't mom telling me bad news about granny, it was dad lying there, unconscious...lifeless...dead. I immediately rushed to his side. Yes, he was naked but he was face down so I saw nothing. I tried to wake him, but he was stiff and it was no use. His head was turned sideways, so I could see nothing....nothing at all. Sister and I tried to roll him over, the best we could, and what I saw was scary and shocking. His right eye was shut but his left was open. He was starring right at me and that freaked me out beyond belief. I started screaming at the top of my lungs, in hysterics. I kept saying "Wake up Daddy, wake up! I need you daddy, don't do this to me, please wake up daddy...please." I got no response from him at all. I tried to tilt his head back, I grabbed his wrist to check for a pulse and got nothing. I had CPR training and am certified, so it was natural I perform it on him. We couldn't get him rolled over much, but when we did, on his face was some unidentified stuff. Like he had thrown up or something, we're not all that sure at this time. Sister grabbed some toilet paper, cleaned it off and opened his mouth. The next thing was saw was absolutely horrific.
His tongue was rolled back already and she freaked. She leaped over both his body and mine and ran right out of the house. She'd run down the street to my cousin Steve's house. He was a police officer and hoped he was home and could help. He wasn't. But luckily enough, his sister was and she was a nurse. She'd been home visiting from New Mexico, where she lives with her family. She came running over to the house with sister. During all of that, mom was on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator and I was trying to find a pulse. I tried to lift him and couldn't. I let go because I couldn't pull him up and the sound of his poor little head banging against the tile floor with a hard thud is a sound I'll never forget. I immediately dropped to my knees and started to apologize, I just kept saying "I'm sorry daddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it...I'm sorry!" Mom told me to tilt his head back and hold his forehead with one hand and his neck with the other. I did. I felt no pulse at all. She told me to check if he was breathing, I did and nothing. I put my hand over his heart, it wasn't beating. I was crying by this time, and was told to perform CPR. He wasn't flat and our bathroom is small, so we couldn't get him flat. Sister had come home just in time and we tried to pull him out of the bathroom, or at least to a flat position so I could do the CPR. We couldn't budge him at all. His body was so heavy. The man weight 190 and we couldn't even pull his thin body. We tried twice and simply couldn't. And for some reason, I just couldn't do it anymore, I dropped his hands and ran out of that area, into the living room and started screaming and crying. My cousin Stephanie grabbed me and took me outside and just as we had went outside, an officer and the fire truck showed up. The police officer began the CPR and when the fire officeres arrived in the house, they put him on a stretcher and performed CPR. They then moved him to the front room and I stayed outside, pacing the porch the whole time.
I tried calling my aunt, no answer. So I called her daughter and just balled on the phone. Within five minutes, her mother, her sister and our uncle Bel showed up at the house. Jakee was okay, she'd just got off of work. Terry [my aunt -- her mother] was crying and worried. She ran to the house and came straight to me. Sister had made it outside by now and so did Frances and Big Steve [Stephanie and Steve -- my cousins -- parents]. Bel was already in tears, his eyes were red and he was pacing the front yard repeating "Don't leave me big brother, don't leave me. Please don't leave me big brother...I need you. Come on, wake up." He went to the door and stood there, starring at him, and started crying and saying "No...no...wake up...come on wake up...noooooo....wake up...." thats all he kept saying. They had to sit him down in my sisters room, on her bed, so he wouldn't pass out. Me, I was sitting on the porch, rocking back and forth. My mom was inside, at dad's side the whole time and sister went back and forth. My cousin Annette [who I had first called] was on the phone calling the whole family, telling them to get over there. My sister called my uncle Simon, that leaves in San Antonio, and asked him to pray over the phone for them, for him, for us. He did. He then told her to call my uncle Jesse -- who is an ordained Pastor -- and have him pray. We didn't have his number. I walked in and out of the house, I never could stay for long. I felt like throwing up the whole time and I couldn't stop screaming and crying, going "No daddy...wake up...please wake up daddy...I love you...I need you...don't leave me daddy, please don't leave me. Please daddy...please."
I went back outside, on the porch, and just hugged the poles we have on the porch. By this time, a second officer had shown up and then the ambulence. They really got into the CPR and he was still unresponsive. At times, it looked as though he had a heart rate and at times it didn't. I was so unsure, my cousin -- who is a nurse -- was unsure and my other nurse cousin was outside on the porch. I went back to my pole and burried my face in it and just kept saying over and over again "Don't leave me daddy, no daddy, no...." and crying. I was shaking my head no, as if it'd do any help. And, for some odd reason, I turned around and just as I had, I saw my cousin Monica and Frances [Monica lives across the street from us, Franees two houses down from us] shake their heads 'no' and my heart just dropped. It was like the wind was knocked completely out of me. Slowly, like in a scary movie, I walked to the door and looked in. They had stopped, there was nothing else they could do...he could not be resisitated. My mom and sister, my aunt were all crying...so was Jakee my cousin. I dropped to my knees, in the middle of the doorway, and screamed and cried. I was in hysterics, no one could pick me up, move me, nothing. -- Just talking about it, I am shakey. -- I crawled into thet house and went to my moms side and hugged her...I looked at him, his lifeless body...he was so, so cold. So bloated. It made things worse. They lowered him off the stretcher and left him, in the living room, on the floor. All the people left except the two police officers. They had to wait for the coroner to arrive and pronounce him dead and take his body. We got to tell him bye before he left...but he was already gone. I never got to tell him bye or that I love him and always would before that moment...not since the night before. I just clutched onto him, I laid beside him, I held him and I cried. I cried like a two year old child..but I cried. I then ran to his room, jumped on his bed and hugged his pillows. They still smelt like him, and I just cried. I remember I texted Dave and he couldn't believe it. It was soo early, I woke him up and with news like this, he was shocked I know. I called Christian, who was up...luckily...and I cried. He had no idea what to do for me. I had no idea what to do. I lost my world all in one instance.
He was pronounced dead at 8:02 a.m. And, according to the autopsy the first cause of death was a Sudden Heart Attack/Heart Failure. What caused that was Ischemic Heart Disease and we're looking into that and figuring out how the doctor didn't know or see this. He was JUST in there three weeks before, complaining of shortness of breath and chest pains. She did NOTHING for him, except check his blood. What good is that going to do for his heart? Do an EKG, you dumb bitch!
The rest of that week is a complete blurr. Viewing began Wednesday after 10 a.m. and Monday, we went and did all the funeral arrangements. Thursday at 7 p.m. was his rosary and Friday, I got to burry my 45 year old father. That was harder for me then anything else.
If you knew me, really -- really knew me, you'd know I was a daddy's girl to the core. I loved him so much. Yes, we had our fights, our quarrels, but I loved, cherished, adored and admired my father. All these kids have their favorite super hero's. Their spidermans and batmans. My dad was my superhero. He'd overcome so much and managed to raise two beautiful girls and keep a happy marriage for -- almost -- twenty-seven years. He was a phenomenal dad, an irreplacable dad. He showed unconditional love, regardless of what happened, what was said or what was done. He was my superhero. He was my Superman and for that, I will always be grateful.
I appreciate everything he's done for me. From taking me to school as a kid to picking my up from the movies on my first date, to everything a father could do for his daughter. His youngest daughter. I was...I am him in everyway. All I know, all I am, all I'll ever be is because of him. He taught me everything he knew. My attitude, my mood, my temper, my mouth, my heart, soul and passion, everything I got from him. And for that, I am eternally grateful. He may be burried physically but, in my heart he'll live forever. He was a great dad, the best any girl -- the best I -- could of ever had.
People tell me, all the time, he's in a better place. They tell me it gets easier. It's hard to say bye, its hard to let go, its hard at first, but it gets easier. I can't. I was literally dragged to his coffin, I simply could not say goodbye. How can I say goodbye to a man I'd idolized for twenty-one years of my life. I wasn't even twenty-one for a month before he was taken from me. No signs, no struggles, no troubles...not even a 'goodbye' or 'I love you'. He was just gone and there was nothing I could do. You tell me how I am supposed to handle that, because -- honestly -- I don't know. He's my father, my only father. He will always be my only father, regardless. He was young and I'm not strong enough to say goodbye.
What's ironic about this whole thing is; no one else saw or heard sirens but him. Two cops, a fire truck and an ambulence is what he told my mom was outside our house. The day he died, that is EXACTLY what showed up. In his younger years, he'd always said that he would die at a young age, just like his father. And that's exactly what happened. That Friday before, he said that the three of us -- mom, sister and me -- were getting along fine without him. We didn't need him anymore. The night before, he said he was tired of the pain, tired of hurting and tired of feeling uncomfortable and unhappy.
My life was changed in one instance...and I don't know if I'll ever be emotionally over that. At least not for a while. Even talking about it makes me sick. My stomach in knots, feeling like I need to throw up. Tears streaming down my face like a fucking rainfall. Shaking...its insane. My dad will always be #1 to me...always. He'll never get to meet the grandkids that my sister and I give to him...they'll never know what a great man their grandpa was. They'll never get to learn what we learned from him...see what we saw in him. They'll never know him. My sister and I...we're so different but just the same. Who's gonna walk us down the isle when we get married? My dad didn't even get to give me away at my wedding, see me graduate from college...nothing. How am I supposed to ever get over that? This kind of pain...what I have, what I feel inside of me. How am I ever supposed to let it go? When will the heartache, the pain, crying in my sleep, crying at work...crying at random times in the day...feeling grief, pain, anger, confusion and so much more...when will all of this go away? Will it ever? How can it? How can I go on, go to work, knowing that, everyday...when I come home from work, my dad will never be home to greet me. It's so hard...I loved him more then people could ever know. I was his baby girl...I AM his baby girl. And he IS my daddy.
I know they say, that daddy's in a better place...but I am selfish. I want him here, here with me. The kid next door, my sister used to babysit him, he was attached to my dad. He took it hard. He asked his grandma, one day, "Is Sammy my guardian angel now?" That brings a tear to my eye everytime I think about it. Everytime I close my eyes, step in the house, go in the living room, the kitchen, anywhere in the house...everytime I go to the bathroom, I see him. I sleep with his pillow, clutching it in my arms all night long, just to be that much closer to him. This pain, it'll never, ever go away.
Dad, I know you're watching me, I know that...one day we'll see each other again. I want you to know that I love you...you've been my inspiration all my life. I idolized you and adored you more then anyone I knew. You are my world, my heart and soul. I'll never forget you, you are irreplacable in my heart, in my life and in my mind. In my eyes, you are the world's greatest dad. Your memory, our memories, our times that we shared will forever stay in my mind. I'll teach my kids what you taught me, tell them what you told me. Tell them all the stories of the times that we had. Dad...I want you to know that I love you...you're my everything and always will be. And, I hope that...when we meet again, when you look down on me...I just hope that you proud of who I am, what I do and who I'll end up being. I can only be me and, hopefully, thats enough to make you happy...even in your after life. I miss you so much, dad...words cannot begin to explain the pain I feel, the anger, the confusion the frustration the hurt, the heartache, the sick feeling I get everytime I am reminded that, you aren't here with me anymore. Words cannot explain what you mean to me and how much I miss you. But I do. I always will, no matter what. I love you so much, daddy...and that love, your memory...that's what is gonna keep me going every day. I love you daddy...more then words can say.
REST IN PIECE, DADDY, I LOVE YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER!
February 18th, 1962 - July 8th, 2007 -- Samuel Mata; My Daddy.
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