Behave Yourself

Ten years ago, right about this time, my dad had a heart attack. Mom had died the previous year. I was the child living closest to Dad, so checked in on him daily.

That day, Dad had a doctor's appointment scheduled for the afternoon. But he was looking pretty wimpy in the morning. While he got dressed, I was stressing out in his kitchen. I kept praying this very awkward prayer over and over:

Help me know what the next thing to do is.

My dad was a very proud man. He didn't like to show when he was in pain. He didn't like to step out of turn or ask for help until others had been taken care of first. So I knew that if I went against his wishes — which were to wait until his appointment before seeing the doctor — I risked the appearance of impertinence (to Dad), but risked his health/life if I didn't take more definitive action.

So I led him to the car and gently told him we were going right to the emergency room instead of the doctor's office. He survived that night.

A few months later, Dad and I were in California for my brother's funeral. The night after the funeral, Dad was looking bad again. And again, I didn't know what to do. While my brother and sister slept elsewhere in the house, I tiptoed into Dad's bedroom and kept vigil. His breathing was irregular and his sleep was fitful. I finally got him to take a dose of nitro and got him to agree to let me take him to the emergency room. He would not let me call 911.

I woke up my brother and sister, and the three of us gently got him down the hall and into the car. Poor Dad. He just didn't want to be a bother. And we didn't want him to feel like he'd lost his dignity.

We really didn't know what to do, so we did the best we could. That ended up being a long trip for me. I stayed in California through most of February until Dad died ... and until we had a memorial service in our home town. My poor family was stressed at home in Idaho, but my husband flew down to help me in those last few days. We brought Dad's remains home ... and then a whole new set of events unfurled concerning his estate where I didn't know what to do.

I did the best I knew how to do at the time. I tried to be cautious. I tried to be conscientious. I tried to be level-headed. I tried to be fair. I tried to learn my job as executor and deal with my double grief and attend to the needs of the extended family, all the while being wife and mother (and bereaved sister and daughter).

I didn't always succeed. If ever my character was tested, it was in that year. I grew a lot.

I hope that overall, in the face of not knowing what to do, I behaved with dignity and compassion.