Colder Weather

It has been snowing here recently in the Upstate of SC. Unfortunately, along with the colder temps and ice accumulation came the news over the weekend that my father had suffered an apparent seizure which stopped his heart. Despite the best efforts of the EMS crew on the scene, because his brain was deprived of oxygen for at least 40 mins, he suffered irreversible brain damage and trauma. An MRI was conducted after 48 hours had elapsed, and the family was notified that he was now in a permanent vegetative state. His body is here, but his mind isn’t. With sadness, various members of his family and I made the decision to remove life-sustaining measures last night around 7PM and were told that he could pass on at any moment. However, his heart rate, respiration, and blood pressure all remained stable throughout the entire night and morning, so the hospital case manager called me today to ask my thoughts about moving him into compassionate care at a local hospice home. He was transported there just a few hours ago and is now resting comfortably as far as we can tell. His breathing is no longer labored and the secretions that were accumulating in his chest and throat have been broken up so it’s no longer painful to sit by his side and hear those deep, gurgling noises and chest rattles. He’s sleeping soundly thanks to the morphine, and we are confident that he is receiving the best possible care.

I’m at home now and itching to write some thoughts that have been on my mind during this time. What a weird and surreal time the past 4 days have been. I have blogged about my relationship (or lack thereof) with my parents before. Heart Problems and Perspective are two posts in particular which highlight some of the battles between my parents and me. This post is not intended to rehash any of those, nor is it intended to dishonor my father in any way. It’s just me as usual putting into words some feelings and thoughts that are real and very much on the surface just needing an outlet. Writing is my therapy, so here goes nothing.

The morning I received the news from his niece that he was in the hospital and not expected to make it, my first thought was, “Well, here we go. The day you’ve always known would come is here. The shoe has dropped and it’s over.” When your father has been a substance abuser your entire life with no place to call his home due to choices that he made with drugs, so-called friends, and loose women, you don’t actually expect him to make it to his golden years, right? So what was the point in me going to the hospital to say goodbye? He wouldn’t know I was there, and I didn’t give a damn…at least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

That hard exterior I had developed over the past 40 years cracked a little when I actually got on the phone and spoke to his niece. I was listed on the paperwork as his next of kin and he had appointed me the person to make the hard decisions years ago when he had bypass surgery and we were on speaking terms. Something about that phone call made me feel obligated to at least go and see him. Maybe he would be gone by the time I arrived and I wouldn’t actually have to go through with it. It just didn’t feel right not to go, so off I went. I spent about 15 minutes in his room before coming out and talking to his family in the ER waiting area. He looked pretty good for someone who lived the kind of life that he did- no wrinkles, clear skin, good color…it was kind of amazing, actually. He had always been handsome, and he knew it. He was like honey and women were the bees. They just swarmed to him. That’s when I knew it was bad 48 hours later when the nurse called me to go over his neurological check the morning after he was weaned from the sedation. She said he wasn’t reacting to painful stimuli such as pinching of the nipple. “Well, hell, ” I thought as she further went on to explain the next steps. If he didn’t wake up from that kind of stimulation by a female, then there really was no hope for him. Otherwise, he’d have been up and giving her some of his best lines and smiles. My dad had a pretty smile.

I felt the need to acknowledge what was going on to my friends on social media that day, but I didn’t need their sympathy or condolences although some were still gracious to offer them. I just needed to state what was going on and my acceptance of the reality that this time, my dad wasn’t going to bounce back. No more lives for this cat. He’d already blown through his 9 plus some. I was honest when I wrote that even though we didn’t have much of a relationship, I was still sad about it as it was hurtful to me to think of a world without Donald Dale Cooke in it. I made sure to explain that although I didn’t have many memories of us together, I knew that my dad loved me as much as he was able to in his own way, and that if he could have done things differently, then he would have. Surprisingly, at the end of the day, it really didn’t matter all that much. All that matters in the end is the relationship you have between you and your God.

Only God knows the heart, and my dad had a good heart.

The thing that I have to admire, albeit grudgingly at times, about my father and his people is that they never try to hide who or what they are. What you see is what you get. No pretenses, no shows or airs, no need to impress people just for the sake of making oneself feel better or uppity. Hell naw! These people are country as cornbread, simple yet street smart, and rougher than a cob. They don’t play around and they’d soon cuss and fight you as invite you over for some fatback and poke salad. That’s poke without an accent over the e. We ain’t talking poke like the Hawaiian version of raw fish. We’re talking boiled weeds, people. Yep! My Granny went out in the dang yard and pulled grass and cooked that mess and was proud of it!

My Daddy grew up in a little house where sheets were sometimes used for doors or window coverings, and his Mama (my Granny) was no Aunt Bea. She was a hell-raising mean old thang with jet black, teased up hair who dipped snuff and was as crooked as the day was long. No wonder my father turned out the way he did. He didn’t really have a snowball’s chance in hell to be any other way with a dad who was oftentimes away working in order to feed his five kids and a Mama who loved booze and other men more than she loved her children. He grew up on Cemetery Street in Cowpens, which is fitting. Not much lived or thrived there.

As I concluded my social media post the other day, I stated that what few memories I have of my dad could be summed up in some Hank Williams Jr. songs. My dad loved to dance, and he and my Mama often went to bars and honky-tonks. Country music was a staple in our trailers growing up. Family Tradition is one of the songs that will bring a smile to my face every time I hear it because it’s just the sort of twangy, proud-to-be-a-redneck-rebel kind of song that describes my dad to a T.

“Lordy, I have loved some ladies and I have loved Jim Beam

and they both tried to kill me in 1973.

When that doctor asked me, “Son, how did you get in this condition?”

I said, “Hey, Sawbones, I’m just carrying on an old family tradition!”

Family Tradition by Hank Williams, Jr.

Another song that came to mind was Colder Weather by the Zac Brown Band. I used a term from it as I wrote a Facebook update this afternoon. I couldn’t recall where I had heard it initially but the phrase “gypsy soul” kept running through my mind. I wrote that I was thankful for the closure granted by the Lord in saying goodbye to my gypsy soul of a father who had wandered around for years, always searching for that elusive something. The song is about a rambling man who leaves the love of his life, but it also applies to me and my dad.

He said, “I wanna see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then?”

She said, “You’re a ramblin’ man, and you ain’t ever gonna change. You’ve got a gypsy soul to blame and you were born for leavin’.”

Colder Weather, Zac Brown Band

Why are songs so powerful and can say so much of the essence of our hearts? I never truly heard those lyrics from that perspective until today, but they hit home when I looked them up and they’ll stay with me just like that- my dad and me. Him always leaving and making excuses and me telling anyone who would listen that he wouldn’t ever change. His heart was good and in the right place, but he made choices and gravitated towards things that were more alluring and gratifying than a freckled-faced, blue-eyed girl with auburn hair who got all of those traits from a Daddy who just wouldn’t (or maybe couldn’t) stay around.

It’s truly OK now. I harbor no ill will or negative feelings towards him. After all, were it not for the grace of God in my life, that could be me. He’s the one who missed out on so much. He traded his daughter and his grandchildren for worldly pleasures that brought no lasting satisfaction. He has never met Carsen and only got to know Carlen for a few weeks before he went off in the woods (quite literally). He barely knew Carter and Caroline, and now it’s too late for any of those things. He’s on the last leg of his earthly journey, and I pray that he is on his way to eternal rest and peace where he can be safe, warm, and loved by his Father God forevermore. No more lost wandering.

I told my mother-in-law just this evening that I thought it strange that of all the people he could have listed, that he chose me to be the person to notify and make his final decisions. She said maybe that was his way of making sure that I was there for him at the end. Maybe she’s right. Maybe he’s wanting my presence. I’ve tried my best this week to be there for him. I hope he knows it and can feel it somehow. And maybe the last chorus of the song applies to him, too, in some way as he senses me there with him…

And when I close my eyes I see you no matter where I am.

I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines.

I’m with your ghost again. It’s a shame about the weather.

I know soon we’ll be together and I can’t wait till then.

I can’t wait till then.

Colder Weather, Zac Brown Band

I love you, Daddy. Give Carter a kiss from me.