March 29th, 2008.

 

This used to be an insignificant date, an ordinary variant day of the year where, unless some grand event was planned, held nothing special in store.

It's a day that, as of 9:10pm CST that evening, holds a new reason now to make it significant.

That night, my dad's condition had grown worse upon the discovery of an aneurysm on his heart. He had had a heart attack in the summer of 2004 and had a rollercoaster of a recovery. Sometimes he was doing better and was active, but later came to a constant point where even a trip up a flight of stairs meant a trip to the hospital. He couldn't hold food down, fluid backed up in his lungs to where he needed an oxygen tank to keep him breathing.

Meeting him, you could never tell that just four years earlier, this man was about to take the music industry by storm. He's a talented percussionist with deep roots in gospel and jazz. He's quite possibly one of the greatest musicians you've never heard of. He's played with the likes of Al Jarreau and Enrique Iglesias, and had produced shows of his own, highlighting local and well-known recording artists alike.

After his attack in June of 2004, he pushed himself to keep going so that his work would continue. If anyone has ever had an ailing parent or loved one to look after, you know the pain and uncertainty of watching them suffer and wanting to take it away from them even as they fight it themselves.

On March 29th 2008, after 12am CST, doctors at Northwestern Medical in Chicago found the aneurysm was out of control and couldn't be controlled. Several hours later, Cleveland Clinic arranged for a life support helicopter to pick up my dad at 1am CST on March 30th, 2008 with every confidence that they could help him. Which gave my dad and the family hope, and so Dad spent that entire day in a state which the doctors had sedated for fear of agitating the delicate condition of his heart. After the morphine drip was removed, Dad was, for once, his awake, animated, and funny self, to the delight of his mother, his siblings, his goddaughter, his son, and his best friend - my mother.

 

 

Work prevented me from sharing that day with everyone, but later that night as the helicopter was set to pick him up, I promised him over the phone that I would find a way to see him soon and that I loved him.

Like everyone else, I had no idea that I'd never see him again.

On March 29th 2008, at 9:10pm CST, my dad passed away, having been picked up by God's helicopter to be brought home.

If I could only describe how painful it is to write this...

Really, there is no way to put it into proper words. All I know now is that I miss him.