Twenty-two years ago. It was a typical vacation. Golfing, relaxing, walking the beach. It is what they did every year at Thanksgiving.
After a very enjoyable round of golf, their first of the week, they returned to their rented villa. She checked her phone for messages – 2 from home. Both said, “Call your mother.” She knew – it was Dad.
“Dad had a heart attack and has been taken to the hospital. He resting comfortably. It doesn’t appear to be bad, but they will do some tests.”
Conflicted, she wondered what to do. It was a 2-day drive home and he could be out and home before they arrived. Again, she knew – she had to go home.
Tests showed a blockage in the neck and the doctor would need to do an angioplasty. They had arrived in time and talked with him before the surgery. His spirits were good and everyone was optimistic. It was to be a routine procedure.
He recovered and was scheduled to go home. Then, two days after the surgery, he suffered a stroke. More strokes followed, leaving him in a vegetative state. For the next several weeks he lay like that; they knew it was only a matter of time.
Just after Christmas he died, peacefully. She was by his side.
It had all started with the phone call.