I work in the same building as the hospice that my Dad was at. He was on the 2nd floor and I am on the 4th floor in Rehabilitation.
I was concerned about working my first day back in the same building after his death, but really it was fine. I just avoided the 2nd floor. Then I went for coffee with the Unit Clerk, she was wonderful during my Dad's stay and I knew her from her stint as the Rehab Unit Clerk. I went in the hospice and I was fine. It felt uncomfortable, but yet I wasn't breaking down or anything.
Then the other Friday, I was waiting for the elevator, and one of the food services girls recognized me and said Hello. She gave me a big hug, and asked how my Mom was doing. I went into the same well rehearsed answers, fine under the circumstances, and that I thought she was strong considering.
Then she started in, saying how with the hockey season starting, how she really missed talking with my Dad, how she used to bug him when the Canucks lost, how she reminded him of game day, as with his medications he would forget, and how much she was going to miss him, miss him NOW.
One thing I could always strike up a conversation with my Dad about, was hockey. I remember him always joking that Sopel tripped on him hair, and was probably smoking too much dope, because of course, if the guy had long hair, he must've been on drugs.
Even writing this I am getting a little emotional, it's true. Life goes on and so does the NHL, but with one less avid fan routing on our Canucks. I remember really wanting the Canucks to win because my Dad would joke, I guess I will never get to see them win the Stanley Cup. I guess he won't on earth.
But if they do ever win the Cup during my lifetime, he's the first one I am going to think about.
Damn, I guess I should have known it would have been hockey that would remind me of you Dad.
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