Well there goes that plan.
Mom just said he’s been talking about this trip all week. I told her not to tell him about my possible
reneging, and to just meet me at the Red Lion parking lot like we’d
planned. We’ll take 290 and hit Hwy 21
from there. Besides I need to talk to
him. I got that job offer in Phoenix and
I really thinking about doing it. My job
at the Capitol is okay, but it’s a little light on the checkbook if you know
what I mean. And the Phoenix job is
almost double the salary. So it’ll be
nice to see what he thinks and how he’ll criticize it.
Okay on our way to College station. Dad has lost quite a bit of weight since his
quadruple bypass last June. He’s been
exercising, eating better, and playing tennis twice a week. He asks me about work and I tell him about my
offer and how much more money it is. He
waits for me to tell all my pros and pauses to let it all sink in. He then very thoughtfully asks me how I
intend to entertain myself. What? He says, currently you and Omar go out to
Dallas for 69 cent drinks, and what do you spend on your typical nights
out? How about laundry? You come home and mother does a couple of
loads for you. How much time and money
might that cost? And you’ll probably
come home for holidays, right? Have you priced
out the flights for that? And you don’t
know anyone there yet, so back to my first question how will you entertain
yourself? You’ll either need cable, or
you’ll go out more to try to meet some folks.
Here you and Omar can just meet for a dollar movie. What is the price of gas there? Where would you live? Do you have any idea of where the good parts
and bad parts of town are? And how far your office would be from there? How much is food? Don’t forget to make a budget with soft costs
included.
In any case he challenged me to create a ledger of actual
costs today, soft costs, and then align the two to see what the true increase
in salary was. Thank goodness he did
this because a couple of years later I found out a funny thing about tax
brackets, damn revenuers.
So we got to College Station and went straight to a BBQ
joint I used to love. We found our seats
and watched the Aggies bring it home.
Dad and I ragged the umps and he kept a score card. We talked about which guys might move
up. Then it started getting colder and
halfway through game two versus Old Dominion, we headed home. The drive had me really thinking that maybe
Phoenix might not be the place for me, but I would go home and pray about it.
We got to my truck in the Red Lion parking lot and I gave
dad a hug and I told him I loved him. We
talked weekly and I did love him, but I didn’t always say it to him. A habit I
have since changed by the way. I drove
home and was about to go to bed because I had work tomorrow. Dad called me just before bed and asked me
how Omar had done at the Honda Classic.
I told him he had another top 25, his fourth in six events. Again I told him I loved him and that I had
fun today.
Around 1AM my roommate “steroid” Joe came into my room and
said, “Marco, MARCO! Wake up man. You have to come listen to this message.” I asked him what was up and he just repeated
that I had to listen to the message. I
went over to the machine and pushed play.
It was my mother’s neighbor Mrs. Lowden.
She said that the ambulance was there and my father wasn’t breathing and
that I needed to come home right away. I
called home immediately and I noticed that Joe had buried his face in his
hands. I asked what was going on and
they said, “Just come home.” I told them
that I was on my way, but when Star Flight got there and they moved him to
Brack (our major trauma center) just page me with7777777. I would know to break off my route and meet
them there. I jumped in my truck and started racing home to Manchaca from my
northwest Austin rental. I was an EMT
and I know how the timing of things works.
I knew the steps and kept looking at my pager. Why haven’t they beeped me yet? What is going on?
I got to the upper deck and realized that I was never going
to get a page and that I’d just spent my last day with my father. I cried for the next 10 miles knowing that I
had to be strong for mom. I got there
and there were sheriffs, firemen, volunteer EMS from my old unit, and
neighbors. I had so many thoughts going through
my head. It was weird in a sense because
I had been on the other side of the flashing lights before and never really
empathized with the victim’s families, I was just doing my job. I saw a lot of the same blank looks, the
looks that allow you to continue to keep doing that service and stay focused
and professional. But some who had
worked with me did feel something and it showed.
I got inside and my mother was in shambles. God bless her she just wanted to hold my
father just a little longer. I gave her very
logical advice that was just plain stupid over the next few weeks. I thought it would help her, but I wish I
would have just been more patient. I
wish I could take some of that time back.
Omar’s dad was there.
He pulled me over and gave me a stern but understanding look. “Marco, okay, we need to make some
decisions. And I need you to focus. Are you ready? We need to make a list of the people to
contact. You need to make a list of pall
bearers. We need to call the church for
the last rites. And we need to write an
obituary.” I had tasks and I was ready
to dive into the details. We called a
dear friend Robert Falcon to come and help with the body and he said he’d
called Father Hal Zinc (who died just before he could Marry Nita and I), to
come and prepare the body. Father Hal
also set the land speed record for Hail Marys’ as my friends can attest from the
Rosary.
My mother told me that he said what a wonderful day he had
with me. When they went to bed he kissed
her, told her he loved her, and went to sleep.
Mom woke up to hear his last gasp and he died of a heart attack. She called 911 and a neighbor. I often think,
what if I would have cancelled our trip.
I started writing my father’s eulogy the next day. My friends Pete, Richard, and Natalie came
over and hung out with me while I tried to work things out. Omar’s brother, Javier came over and did
everything. He drove us around, got the
car inspected, got groceries, everything.
My friend Jill who was a travel agent in Missouri, put Omar on a plane
home to be with me for the funeral, he stood by me while I delivered the eulogy
in case I couldn’t finish it. He flew
back immediately to play the Bay Hill invitational. Rusty stayed behind to walk the course while
Omar missed the week of practice rounds.
The outpouring of support and love for him was amazing. People came from all over to say goodbye and
to offer their condolences.
It has been 17 years since that night. I think of him often. I channel him frequently and Nita and I even
argue sometimes about his maniacal quest for betterment, and what he “really
meant.” I converted some VHS tapes to
DVD a few years back and I found one with us just hanging out in our old house
in Manchaca. He was just playing with
his little dog Chico. I had forgotten
his voice, but not his face or his message.
In fact I still hear his sayings in my head. I frequently ask myself what dad would do in
a certain situation. I’m glad I have the disc, so I can make sure that the kids
can see and hear their Abuelito. And
funny enough, yesterday mom was over for dinner and she asked, “Don’t you ever
get tired of me?” I said, “Well, maybe
someday Josie or Connor won’t be tired of me coming to dinner.” We hugged and she thanked me.
I was watching Saving Private Ryan the other day and the scene
where the old Ryan drops down on his knees and asks if he was a good man, did
he “earn” being saved. Well there is no
doubt that dad earned it. Thanks for
everything. I still love you, I still miss you. I still have time to earn it, and I won’t let
you down.
