Bill + Saint Louis

Dates: 5/11/19 - 5/21/19
total distance: 1000 miles by plane

People: Bill (aka Dad, Pops, Poppa)

My dad was a perfect blend of smart and funny + caring and generous. He was an obsessively overachieving CEO by day and the ultimate family man afterhours. 
He taught me to: 

• have a sense of humor
•  make a difference
•  fail and learn from it
• have integrity
• save money/spend money/donate more money to charity - he loved to bang on about the value of money

Place: St. Louis  (STL, Gateway to the West - where everyone is curious where you went to High School)

I don’t even like roast beef, however, Lions Choice roast beef sandwiches are so good that I demand we eat there every time I visit. Other highlights from this trip include the Botanical Garden and local culinary favorites Toasted Ravioli + St. Louis Salad, and Ted Drewe’s frozen-custard.

The best thing about Saint Louis is Lions Choice... these roast beef sandwiches will change your life

Our adventure:
After 24 hours of travel home from Australia, I now had 1 day to, unpack/launder/repack, get an urgent medical test, wake up and stop a 3 a.m. flood in my bathroom, and arrive in St. Louis to see my dad for the last time.

My dad was hyper-active, however 4 days without food left him still and pale, reclined in the unfamiliar bed of this beige-in-every-way assisted living center. Oxygen tubes traced his strong jawline, which had once smiled, laughed, and imparted wisdom, but now only showcased his irregular breathing. The heaviness of the moment choked me as I entered the room, and my brother instructed me not to cry.

What Ben didn’t know, was that over the past 3 years, I had tried everything to stop crying about dad's Alzheimer’s including: a 5 day meditation retreat, 3 different types of therapy, acupuncture, massage, and even quitting my job to help figure out his care. Nothing stopped the tears nor diminished the deepest sadness I have ever felt. So, I did a poor job of hiding my tears, as we sat by his bed sharing our favorite stories, telling family jokes, and praying for my dad to rest in peace.

​With the window cracked, the mirror covered, and Dad’s toes turning grayish-black - my Dad’s spirit left his body, the beige-room, and our lives. While the loss to my family was immeasurable, witnessing his suffering had been unbearable.

Death warps time and space

We moved through the world, like zombies, as we planned the funeral, attended the funeral, and chatted with friends and family - while remaining slightly dead inside.

​The semi-cynical and extremely helpful rabbi cautioned that some people show up at the funeral for you and others show up for themselves. Regardless of the reasons for attendance, the outpouring of genuine love and support from family and friends was the only way to escape the sadness.

The day of the funeral felt 100 times longer than my flight home from Australia. And I recognize that every day my mother was an ALZ caregiver felt 1000 times longer than the funeral day. It is a gift that my dad is not suffering, as we try to reorganize our family without our CEO. 

This loss is a chance to reconnect as a family, and to remember the magical power of:

• unconditional love
• seeing the best in others (Ben and I were far-from-perfect children)
• showing up for the people you love when you are needed the most.

What I loved:​

• ​​Botanical Gardens – perfect setting to reflect in beauty and nature the day my father died
• Lions Choice – with extra seasoning & seasoned fries
• Ted Drewes’ – wait in line all the time
• Lombardo’s – best Toasted Raviolis and St. Louis salad
• Spring Hill Suites –  exceptional staff reduced the stress of finding rooms for our guests

What I didn't love:

• Funeral Home Price Gouging (I recommend buying a nice casket from Costco)
• Missing my dad