"Frozen in Time" - Anita Jahner

It was 1990.  I was a wife, as well as a mother of a three year old son, and I worked full-time as a records manager for the BLM in Boise, Idaho.  About four years before, my father had come back into my life.  He and mom divorced when I was very young, and because of some unusual circumstances, I was raised by my dad's parents.

We were all excited that he'd come back into the family.  He began showing up for holiday events or the occasional dinner out.  We talked on the phone a lot.  I don't remember exactly when it happened, but about two years into his return, he started having some odd heath issues.  Tiredness, headaches, and he insisted he could smell orange blossoms, though there were none around.  He drank a lot, and for a while he thought the symptoms were a result of that.

Dad finally mentioned the orange blossoms and the headaches to his doctor.  Tests were run.  Soon the diagnosis came back, he had a brain tumor.  Actually two, one slow growing and the other fast and terminal.  The local VA hospital didn't do brain surgery, so this meant he would have to have it elsewhere.  He was flown to Seattle, and when he returned he was not the same.  Though he was still my dad, his personality and cognitive abilities had been altered, but he continued to enjoy time with his family, especially his grandchildren.

As time went on, dad's health continued to decline.  He had been living with my grandparents, but ended up back in the VA Hospital.  We knew his time with us was getting shorter.  I visited often.  The last time I saw him, a couple of days before he died, he never did wake up.  I talked to him, sang a couple of his favorite songs, but there was no response.  I told him it was alright for him to go, if it was his time.  It felt like the worst moment in my life, but it wasn't.

On Friday, I planned to go with my sister to see him at the hospital.  She came by with the kids, but by the time she'd arrived, I had the worst migraine I'd had in a long time.  I felt so ill, but wanted to go see dad.  I kept waiting for the headache to ease, but it just got worse.  She finally suggested we wait and go the next day, and I agreed with her.  She left for home.  My husband took our son outside to play, so I could rest quietly.  About an hour passed, and the headache finally began to subside.  That's when the phone rang.  I knew before I picked it up what was coming. 

“Hello” I answered.  It was my grandpa.  He explained they'd gone to visit, but when he walked into the room, a nurse was gently combing my dad's hair.  “I'm sorry, Mr. Roberts.  He slipped away a few minutes ago.  I saw you walking up and wanted to make him look nice for you.”  Grandpa recited her words to me.  I don't remember much more.  After I hung up the phone, the world seemed very quiet.  I remember walking to the back door, and standing there looking out at my husband and son.  Time seemed to stop.  A second, a minute, I don't remember how long.  I do remember my son looking toward me, then my husband turned and our eyes locked.  It must have been on my face, because he knew and came quickly over, wrapping his arms around me. Then the tears came.  My dad was gone.  I'd told him it was ok to go, but it was too soon.  I'd have given anything to take it back.  To have had another conversation with him.  We stood there looking toward the sunset.  It was beautiful that day.  My husband picked up the camera and snapped a photo.  A life changing moment, frozen in time.