On November 14th 2008 I was returning home from a three day business trip. I boarded the plane exhausted and thinking about nothing but sleeping the whole way home. While waiting to take off I asked my seat mate the perfunctory “so are you headed home today?” The answer to this question allows me to decide if I am sitting next to a talker or a non-talker. It does not really matter which type of person I am sitting next to, it just changes my strategy in dealing with the person.
My seat mates on this day turned out to be an older couple from Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. I learned quite quickly that the wife was a talker. She actually reminded me a great deal of my own mother. They had been in Las Vegas for the wedding of a nephew a week earlier and then had visited friends in Northern Nevada before returning home on the same flight as me.
She and I chatted on and off throughout the flight and shared information about our families. She learned that my father had been living with multiple myeloma for five and a half years. When diagnosed at the age of 79 he was given 2-5 years of life surviving with this progressive and incurable form of cancer.
Just seven days earlier I had dined with my wife and parents and he seemed to be responding to his newest treatment quite well. As well as he appeared to be doing, It was becoming clear that he might not be able to live out his final days at home as he wished. For the short-term at least, he seemed to be doing quite well. He was more lucid and in good humor than I had seen him in months.
So, when the plane landed and upon turning on my phone I saw that I had three voicemails the last thing on my mind was anything related to my Dad. I immediately thought of the two teenagers at home alone since my wife had headed out on her own trip earlier in the day. This late on a Friday I was pretty sure the news would not be good but I was by no means expecting to learn that my father had passed away peacefully as I flew home.
Upon listening to the first voicemail I took a deep breath and said ‘oh no.’ The kind compassionate woman next to me immediately sensed a problem and asked if there was anything she could do. From some people this would be almost offensive – from her it was so appreciated I have no words. It took listening to two more voicemails and making three phone calls before I had confirmation he was gone.
Her touch on my shoulder and kind words of assurance that he had surely lived a long and happy life really helped at a moment that I felt fine but knew for sure I was not. The emotion and tears would not come for almost twelve more hours, but she knew at that moment something even I did not. Surviving the death of a parent will not happen without emotion for anyone.
At first writing this happened two days ago, but I know in my heart I will thank God until my final days for making this kind compassionate woman from Fond du Lac my seat mate on this particular day.
Note: This was written two years ago, forgotten about and recently found. I have edited the original text slightly for clarity and grammar. I share it today as a tribute to my Father and a reminder to love your parents while they are still here.
Thank you for sharing this. It is pretty amazing who enters your life when least expected and for what particular purpose. Just today we signed the papers for my mother-in-law to enter Hospice. I am urging my husband, sister-in-laws and brother-in-laws to cherish their remaining time with their mother and say every thing that needs to be said…and to say their I love you’s while they still can.
Dawn,
Since that day I try to start a conversation with every person I sit next to on a plane. There are no coincidences and we are both there for a reason. A reason most of the time we never get to know.
Keep urging your husband and in-laws – now it the time.
Thanks for reading and sharing your story as well.
Jim
What can start out as any typical day becomes an unforgettable milestone. Even its inevitability does not prevent the death of a parent from being a highly charged emotional event. Regularly you travel and regularly you interpret the personality of your seat mate, but there’s no preparation for the moment you hear you’ve lost a parent. Thanks to that nice lady from Fond du Lac you were in the company of a *perfect* stranger.
Mari,
I love it – “perfect stranger” reminds me of a song my wife and I listened to often in the Fall of 2009, “Perfect People,” and of course the theme of the song is that we are all perfectly flawed 🙂
Thanks for reading and sharing very much appreciated on this post in particular.
Jim
Thanks for this sensitive post, Jim. It took me back to the day I lost my own father eleven years ago. I was on a business trip in Asia at the time. The long trip back home remains a blur, but the memory of the loss is as clear as yesterday. I’m a regular reader of your blog but rarely comment – until now. Thanks for the memory.
Craig,
*nods* I teared up each time I read this post and prepared it for publication. The memory is as clear as yesterday. Without the post the details would be foggy at best.
Thanks for reading and more more importantly sharing your story as well.
Very pleased to know you are here and reading along regularly.
Jim
I am catching up on my blog reading so this is a bit late, and I just wanted to say thank you for sharing.
Genevieve,
You’re most welcome.
Besides, how can you be a bit late when it took me two years to publish the post? 😉 The beauty of the internet is the ability to utilize it “anywhen.”
Jim
I am relieved to have found this blog. I was on an airplane over Atlanta, trying to get across the country in time to see my father who was dying, when he passed away. We had just broken through the clouds and the sun was shining brightly – it was so beautiful and for some reason I thought, “Are you up here with me, Daddy?” I don’t know how long I prayed after that but when we landed I saw I had a message on my phone to call my brother and I knew that my Dad was gone. I called my brother and he confirmed that our father had passed away at about the time I began praying. Interestingly, my seat-mate didn’t even look at me once while I sat there shaking with tears in my eyes. But when we stood up to de-plane a woman in the seat in front of me said, “I didn’t mean to overhear your phone call but I know something terrible has happened and I wanted you to know that I will be thinking of you.” I took her outstretched hand and told her my father had just passed away. What a blessing that she was there at a time when I felt more alone than any other point in my life! I will never forget her kindness.
Diane, All I can say is that comments like yours are why I write. We are all connected and have something to share with each other. We just need to figure out what the thing to be share is. In this case it’s a similar experience that helps us both not feel alone in our grief.