Those who read the poem for my dad that was hard to do but this was harder. Tears pour down my face while writing this. We all have to face death of love ones and some are prepared and some are not. Life can be ripped out from under you in a blink of an eye. I know been there and never want to ever go through it again but it will. Since my fathers death, walking into a funeral home is not easy. I feel like bricks sitting on my chest. What is in here is what actually happen a few minutes before he died.
Cherish your Blessings
By Lynn Hammond
A lot of you don’t know my story of why I decided to write. Things in life can be so perfect and, in the blink of an eye, can be destroyed. On May 11, 2013 (a day I will never forget) I was having a family get together. My mother and father are divorced but civil with one another. My dad showed up on his motorcycle late for the party and drunk, but that’s normal. He refused to eat, said it would kill his buzz. He was leaning on the fireplace, shown here, and talking to my mom and step dad. My mother told him not to drink and drive; he could get killed. He smiled just like in this picture and said “Well, if I die, I will die doing what I love and that is riding a motorcycle.” Well, my dad gave us all a hug and headed out to go back to the bar where his buddy was waiting for him.
The motorcycle acted up when he zoomed out of my driveway; it skipped two gears. Our next-door neighbor’s father called my husband and said my dad was doing something to his bike at the stop sign. I tried to call him, but it went to voice mail. I figured he was riding and wouldn’t pick up his phone. Not a few minutes went by when we saw law enforcement vehicles speeding down our road. Then fire trucks and an ambulance. My husband’s phone ringed. One of dispatchers he knew said a motorcycle had wrecked right down the road, but not to worry; the color was not the same as that of my father’s bike. So I decided to call him again but went right to voice mail again. I thought that is weird; he should be there by now. I kept calling over and over again until my step dad and my husband decided to go check it out.
About 45 minutes went by. At this point, I was getting worried. I dialed his number again but went straight to voice mail yet again. My husband pulled up, and when I saw the look on his face, I knew my dad was the one who had wrecked. That day is still foggy, but my last words are clear: NOT MY DADDY.
My daddy was my whole world. I spoke with him every day. I couldn’t believe God would take away someone so precious to me. The one man who loved me more then anything in this world.
Tragedy was real. I was mad, hurt, and what I call a Zombie. I never knew what others meant when they said they couldn’t remember anything. They felt numb and trapped in their own body. Well, I was no longer able to work. I sat on the couch in a daze just looking off in the distance, just wondering if I can live without my dad.
I was selfish. I had children and a loving husband, but I didn’t care. Without my father, I didn’t want to live. I started seeing a psychiatrist. He decided it was time to get Cognitive classes to reboot my brain. I was unable to read, write, talk, or eat. I lost 45 lbs. I forgot how to swallow.
After two weeks of crying, being dished different medications, and learning in a classroom about how to reboot my brain to learn. I finally was able to pick up a magazine and read it for the first time in months.