Letting Go

For as long as I can recall I have not been able to comprehend the overwhelming sadness felt with the loss of a loved one. I thought that the "stages of grief" were some kind of cop out and that people were insane to be so traumatized over such a loss. I knew that it was a sad event and that it was hard to deal with to an extent but still I thought that everyone should be able to look at it in a positive way and be happy that their loved one was "out of pain", or "in a better place". Never having lost anyone who I had a real bond with made it such a blissful fairy tale.

On January 5th 2009 I found out first hand how difficult the death of a loved one can be, so much so that I am ashamed for my lack of understanding in the past. Now I sit here as a 31 year old woman who has just found out what life is truly about. I feel almost infantile as I realize how naïve I was as well as how difficult it is to learn to walk through each passing day without my father and still muster a smile now and then.

Writing about my feelings has always been a lifesaver for me, it has allowed me to express feelings that speaking could never compare to. As I write this I feel a mixture of relief for being able to say so many things I have until now merely thought, sadness for all the things left unsaid, and hope that my story might touch someone at just the right moment in their life.

My father, Jack Dewayne Brewer died on January 5th 2009 at the age of 52 from a massive coronary. It was not unexpected, in fact we had been preparing since he was diagnosed terminally ill due to heart disease and given 6 months to live in 1993. I found out the hard way that there is no amount of preparation to help ease the pain in the end. Before saying much else about his death I would like to talk about his life, about who he was and how at the time of his passing he was as he should have always been, my Hero and I was as I always have been; Daddy's little Girl.

Dad was 21 when I was born, I was his second child, his little girl. I wish I had memories of those days, lying on his chest with not a care in the world. When I look at pictures of my dad holding me as an infant I can't see past the unconditional love we both radiated.

Dad was a roofer and somehow managed to fall from a 2 story roof within months of my arrival into the world. The fall broke his back, knee, and foot and left him permanently disabled. Since he was home all the time I can imagine that we formed a close bond right away and spent a great deal of time together.

Over the course of his life he had 6 back surgeries as well as several knee and foot surgeries directly related to that fall. None of these were ever considered "successful" and he was almost always in a great deal of pain.

I don't have a lot of memories, neither good or bad, before 5th grade or so; the ones I do have must be those that had the greatest impact on my life. My Dad was a good man, one who made bad choices. It was the decision regarding drug use that would follow him and haunt him daily until his final moment with us. Years of drug abuse and a very rough lifestyle were directly responsible for his untimely death. I guess his drug use was responsible for many tragedies in his life.

So many of my childhood memories involve drugs in some way and are what for many years made me think I had the worst childhood ever. If only I knew then what I do now......

The images that I carried through life were of a father who's profession and only passion was Manufacturing Methamphetamines. So many days and nights spent wondering if he would ever come home. Doubting him and his ability to care for his family must have shaded most of the beautiful memories of our family. It wasn't until just before he died that I began to have images of a happy little girl out fishing with her daddy, and of all the things he taught me that formed who I am today. The day he passed was a flood of those memories and now ,19 days later I am having trouble recalling the hard times, I call this letting go.

After all those bitter sweet years I have finally let go of the bitter and am for the first time reminiscing the sweet.

I think I first became angry at Dad when my Mom and I left him. I was 14 and couldn't find it in me to try and understand, or forgive, all the things he chose to do that led to my mom sneaking me away when he wasn't home. I blamed him for everything back then, looking back I see that it was out of his control. The lack of control he had due to Meth was what took his family, his home, and eventually his life.

It was a very rapid deterioration of his whole life, and by the time he realized what was happening he had already surpassed the definition of hitting rock bottom. Our family split up in 1990, Dad was arrested for manufacturing his toxic brew in 1991and had his first massive heart attack in 1992. He died on the table that day and had to be resuscitated. When he woke up in the ccu his doctor explained the seriousness of his condition. The drugs had killed his heart and left him with only 18% that was still functional. It was so sudden, and so tragic, he wasn't even a candidate for transplant because he was too sick to go through any type of surgery. The cardiologist gave him 6 months to live and even told my Grandfather that he would out live his own son. It was this turn of events that forced him to re think his life.

He was awaiting trial when he got sick and his condition was so severe that when he did go to trial he was given only 180 days house arrest and probation for his offense. He was spared many years in prison, but he didn't "get off easy"; He paid the ultimate price for living so freely with a long hard road leading to his last breath.

It was amazing how fast he "grew up" when it mattered most. Dad got off the street drugs and began going to church very soon after his heart attack. He turned his life around and learned many valuable lessons, the problem was his timing. It was too late to save himself and he wasn't going to ever get better so he began a new journey. He vowed to make up for all the things he did and somehow make a difference. In the early years of his failing health he went to local schools and talked with teens about his life and the impact drugs had, he told his story to anyone who would listen and even had a front page newspaper article in Redding. I remember him saying that if he could change just one persons life before it was too late that all of his suffering would be worth it. I don't know just how many people he helped along the way but I know he made a difference for a few, including my brother and I.

It's hard for most to imagine a family living the way we did, we were extremely poor and our living arrangements often mimicked that of some third world country. Living in California in the 1980's with no electricity or running water was almost unheard of to most, for us it was normal. Hind sight is 20/20 they say, well looking back now is much easier than it was in the past. I can suddenly see beyond the poverty and be thankful for the tight family bond our lifestyle afforded us. When all you have in the world is your family you tend to be very close knit. I wouldn't trade the love my parents showed me for anything. I see children who grow up without money troubles, skating through life never knowing hardship and I am not envious now. My parents may not have been able to buy me the world but they definitely gave me enough love to be able to appreciate what I did have.

Some say my Dad was a lucky man, he out lived the doctors expectations by almost 16 years. None of dads doctors could figure out what kept him alive, I guess it wasn't for them to know. I am fairly confident I know what it was that kept my Dad on this earth, suffering through day after day, year after year.

Dad always had something else to do, or someone else to keep track of. He sat idly by as my brother and I made one bad decision after another knowing he couldn't leave us until he was sure we would be ok. I think that two of the things he was most proud of was my brother becoming clean and sober after his battle with drugs and me making the necessary changes to better my life. It was extremely difficult for Dad to watch me stay in an abusive relationship for so many years and his pride was evident when I finally got out.

I can't remember if I ever really thanked him for saving me from a lifetime of abuse, I hope I did though. It was after all, my Dad who gave me much of the power I needed to make that change.

In march of 2004 Dad went to Diamond Mountain Casino in Susanville Ca. and dropped 3 quarters in the wheel of fortune slot machine. Maybe he really was a lucky man because he turned that $ .75 into $334, 000 in one spin. He never really thought much into the future due to the fact he was always on his last days. It was his motto in a way, I won't be here anyways so....

He really only had 3 things he wanted to do with the winnings and he accomplished every one, and then some. He bought a home in Susanville, a BMW, and took his best friend and her 3 children on a trip to Disneyland stopping to see every attraction along the way. At that time I was still living in Arkansas and didn't understand why he chose to do that. I think I was even bitter at first; bitter because it wasn't me traveling with him, bitter because my children did not even know him. I was envious of the time these kids were spending with MY Dad. Wow, I was just a bitter soul!

After his trip I talked with him for a long time on the phone. I don't think I allowed him to know that I was angry in any way and I found out that I had no right to be angry. He talked of his friend and her kids with so much love and devotion in his voice and told me how very special she was. I listened intently as he talked and understanding for their relationship flooded over me. He truly loved her and those boys and wanted to show them that the world could be a better place. By the time he finished his story I had not only lost any resentment I thought I had but felt so much pride for the man my Dad had become. Up to that point I didn't realize just how much he had changed. During our next few conversations he tried very hard to talk me into moving back to California with him. My health was failing and medical attention was almost barbaric in Arkansas, he was sure that a real doctor could help me and that real doctors were in California.

I lived on a 100 acre farm there with my family and our home was paid for. I couldn't just uproot my children and my life and run off to bond with my daddy; or could I? The thought of repairing my relationship with Dad and making up for all those lost years was too much to pass up so in December 2004 Dad bought us plane tickets and we left Arkansas with nothing more than a suitcase. I had been on my own for so many years that it was hard to live with a parent again, but he was so sick and I was thankful for every day we had together.

I finally got to meet Dads friend and seeing that she was just as devoted to their friendship as he was erased any doubt I may have had. Her and I bonded rather quickly and she became as much my best friend as his. Kyla was Dads saving grace and she quickly took me under wing as well. She too hated my unhealthy relationship and we almost had lives that mirrored one another. She had been where I was in life and set out to show me how to change it. It was a mixture of the strength I gained from my father and seeing Kyla's life improve by leaps and bounds that gave me the courage to move on. As it turned out she was my saving grace as well and I found my strength within the unconditional love they both showed me.

As proud as my dad was when I got divorced it still worried him greatly. This gave him another Reason to stick around, he had to know that I was going to be okay. I met my fiancé in 2007 and dad watched as our love grew, he may have been skeptical at first but as he and Phill bonded his worries lessened. We continued to live with my Dad until 2008 when we started our new adventures and moved to Reno. I guess dad had mixed emotions, although I am sure he enjoyed having his house back in order and the break from the kids he also missed me dearly. Dad took pride in the relationship we had bonded and knew he was in his final days. There were so many close calls where we thought we had lost him and he kept pushing on that I had begun to think he would live longer than even I would. As he got sicker I worried that I would not be there when it was his time to go and it bothered me daily.

They say everything happens for a reason, I believe that now more than ever. In a twisted turn of events my fiancé and I were having financial troubles, economy was so bad that his construction career was now non existent and I worked 2 jobs while he worked out of town logging firewood. Through all of our trials we were sinking fast and when Dad suggested we move back with him we didn't see any other way. At first I felt as though I had failed, now I see that it was what was supposed to happen. We were only back in Susanville for two weeks when dad passed but we made more memories than anyone could have imagined. We got dad out and took him fishing, it was so beautiful that we stayed until dark. Fishing was so important to my dad and he was at peace with life that day. We were able to spend the entire holiday season with dad and he was openly thankful for each day, for every memory.

The day he passed was spent with the whole family gathered around telling stories and laughing. I hadn't seen dad laugh like that in a very long time. He let everyone know how glad he was we were here and cherished every second of the day. He had made peace with the world and none of us were the wiser. He knew I would be fine and he had discussed it with Phill, my brother had been clean and sober for a couple years and he was able to spend the quality time he wanted with his kids and grandkids. When we closed the night and everyone left there was a calm over the household that was almost surreal. Thinking back I guess Dad knew he would not have a tomorrow and he was happy with where we all were. I would give anything to go back and know that it would be my final good night hug, my final I love you, my final day with my dad. All that aside I feel blessed that there was nothing important left unsaid and that I was allowed to say good bye.

Dads girlfriend woke us up at 2:14 am telling us that he had fallen off the bed and she needed help getting him back up. We knew something was terribly wrong when he wouldn't wake up. He had fallen before, but a gentle touch always woke him. He was still breathing when he was lifted back onto the bed, almost as if that was what he was waiting for. His one wish came true that morning, he didn't die alone. Phill was holding him when he looked up just before drawing his last breath and we saw every ounce of pain and suffering diminish from his body. I had never seen what he looked like without that constant pained look on his face and it was beautiful. All this peace and beauty I speak of was not an instant reaction for me though. I was in a state of shock and had no control over my emotions. I remember looking into my brothers eyes and seeing the pain he was in and feeling so helpless. I am a fixer by nature and at that moment I couldn't fix anything.

At first I was angry with myself and felt somehow responsible for setting dad free. He kept telling us that he still had work to do and I think both my brother and I tried to make sure he would have plenty of it. That selfish part of us that wanted him to stay around for many more years despite his suffering was enough to keep him alive. It seemed like a script written in life the way everything turned out. My brother and I were happy with our families and I had forgiven him for whatever it was I thought he was responsible for. It all seems so trivial now, how could I have been so angry when days later I can't even remember why? I am presently glad that I was raised the way I was, thankful for the many lessons dad taught me, and proud to be my fathers child.

The last lessons dad would teach me were that tomorrow is not guaranteed to anyone, that showing and telling those you love how much they mean to you is something you have to do daily, and that life is way too short. Those lessons will carry me through the rest of my days and I will forever be grateful to have learned them from my hero, my Dad.

As much as it hurts losing him I am at peace with the fact that he is in a better place, his long battle is finally over, and I will see him again someday. Until then, his legacy lives on through every person he has touched throughout life and through every life he changed.

In loving memory of:

Jack Dewayne Brewer

5-12-56 through 1-5-09

Father, Grandfather, Brother, and Friend to many

May your memory remain fresh and your legacy live on!