It’s Sunday.  I wake up and the first thought in my head is “I have to call my dad.”  I call him every Sunday.  Then I remember he is no longer at the other end of the phone and my heart breaks again for the one millionth time this week. 

Once Kilo and I finished the Pacific Crest Trail, the plan was always to do a road trip to Maryland to spend more time with my family.  Having lived in California for the past 19 years, my visits to Maryland were always limited by vacation time, work meetings, flights to catch, life.  With no jobs post-trail, this was the perfect time to spend more unencumbered time with my family.  The cruel irony is that my dad died the day we arrived to Maryland before we could see him.

We left California, drove through Arizona and Utah, and headed to Colorado.  We spent a couple of days in Durango which is a city we are considering moving to.  Next we headed to Silverton where we hiked the Ice Lake Basin trail one of my most favorite hikes in the United States.  It was in Silverton that I spoke to my dad for the last time.  

“Joe’s Pool Hall.  Eight ball speaking,” my dad answered the phone the same way he answered the phone every Sunday when I called.  

My response, “What a shame.  I was calling to speak to the nine ball.  I guess I’ll hang up now.”

It was a Sunday so naturally we talked Redskins (he was contemplating watching an old John Wayne movie over the Redskins game that day because the Redskins are doing so horribly) and the weather.  He loved checking the weather for whichever city I was currently in.  I told my dad Kilo and I were driving to Leadville to climb Mt. Elbert, the highest mountain in Colorado and the second highest mountain in the lower 48 states, and (ironically) he said, “You are going to give me a heart attack with all these things you do.”  
We summited Mt Elbert the next day and I immediately texted my dad a picture of Kilo and I standing on the summit so he would know we were safe. Two years prior, my dad had gone into heart failure which landed him in the hospital for a couple of days as they put a defibrillator in his heart.  After that incident, I bought him an iPhone to always keep on his person so that he could get help with the touch of a button should he need it.  Despite several tutorials on how to use the iPhone from both my brother and I, my dad never really figured it out (he was old school with a land line, a TV with rabbit ears antenna, and no internet).  But he knew how to check text messages and he loved when I texted him pictures.  He would never respond to the text messages because he could never remember which button to push to respond.  The last time I “saw” my dad, I was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in the San Gorgonio Wilderness of Southern California.  Kilo and I were on top of a mountain looking at San Gorgonio Mountain and I had cell service so I texted my dad a picture.  In trying to respond to my text message, he accidentally Face-Timed me.  He had no idea what Face-Time was or how to hold the phone so that I could see him. I had a great conversation with his adam’s apple.  

After Leadville we drove through Kansas and I texted my dad a screen shot from Google maps that showed we were in the exact center of the country.  I let him know via text as we drove through Saint Louis, and when we arrived in Nashville, TN.  From Nashville we were going to explore the Great Smokey Mountains for a couple of days before heading to Maryland, but decided against that as we were tired and ready for a break from driving.  We headed straight to Maryland Saturday morning stoping only for a quick visit to James Madison University.  I graduated from JMU in 2000 and had not been back since.  Kilo took a picture of me with the James Madison University sign and I texted it to my dad so he could see we were getting close.  A couple of hours later we were arrived to my mom’s place in Maryland.

I called my dad Sunday morning.  I always called him on Sunday.  I wanted to meet him at The International House of Pancakes for breakfast the next morning.  My dad loved IHOP.  During a conversation while I was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, I mentioned pancakes and he promised we would go to IHOP as soon as I got to Maryland.  My dad did not answer the phone when I called.  “He must be in the bathroom.  I’ll try again in a bit,” I thought to myself.  An hour later, I called him again.  No answer.  An hour later, I called him again.  No answer.  An hour later, I called him again. No answer.  My dad rarely leaves his apartment except to get his 4:30am cup of coffee and The Washington Post from 7-11 or to go to his check-ups at the cardiologist.  I knew something was wrong.  I knew he had passed away.  Kilo suggested we drive down to his apartment Sunday night, but I wanted to wait until Monday morning.  I needed some time to process what I knew had already happened.  

I called my dad again Monday morning praying to god he would please answer the phone and that my gut feeling was wrong.  I called his iPhone and his landline.  He answered neither of them.  We immediately drove to his apartment.  His car was in the parking lot, but he was not standing on his balcony the way he always did when he knew I was coming to his apartment.  All of the lights in his apartment were out.  The pit in my stomach grew bigger, and with trembling hands I knocked on his apartment door.  No answer.  “Hold it together,” I kept repeating to myself because I already knew the outcome of this situation.  Kilo drove us over to the leasing office for the apartment and I explained the situation to the woman working there.  She provided me with the non emergency telephone number for the police and said she would be able to give them the key to the apartment to do a welfare check.  

We waited for the police to arrive.  “Hold it together.  Hold it together.  Hold it together.”  Two officers arrived and as I explained the situation to them I broke and was unable to hold it together.  We followed the officers back to my dad’s apartment.  They went upstairs as Kilo and I waited outside.  I heard them knock on the apartment door and walk inside.  I did not hear my dad’s voice.  Five minutes later as one of the officers came down the stairs to speak with us, I knew my dad was dead inside that apartment.  It was written all over the officer’s face.  I actually felt bad for him for having to deliver the news to me because when he did I broke down.  The officer explained that it looked like my dad passed peacefully in his sleep on the couch and that I could come upstairs to see him if I wanted to.  Eh, I was not sure I wanted see my dad in that state.  While I knew it deep inside when he did not answer that first call Sunday morning, now it was real.  I called my mom and my brother to deliver the news.  My brother called my sister.  First, my sister arrived to my dad’s apartment, followed by my brother.  With my brother and Kilo by my side, we went upstairs and walked into the apartment.  There was my dad taking an eternal nap on the couch.  He was wearing his Arizona State (my niece’s college) t-shirt, wrapped in his Redskins blanket with a half finished Coors Lite on the table next to him and the television on.  His iPhone with all of my text messages and missed calls was on the table right next to him.  Oddly the television was broadcasting static (like in the 80s after they played the Star Spangled Banner at midnight).  My brother and I jokingly wondered who had died first, my father or the TV?  Did the TV die of loneliness after my dad passed?  Morbid humor that even my dad would have laughed at.  Seeing my dad for the first time in almost a year, now laying on his couch, is an image I will never forget.  

The police determined there was no need for the medical examiner to come as my dad had a history of heart problems and had an internal defibrillator.  At age 74 they determined he passed away from natural causes.  His heart stopped beating.  

I believe my dad waited for Kilo and I to finish hiking the PCT before leaving this earth to ensure we were safe.  He tried to hang on while we drove cross country, but ran out of time.  I am so thankful Kilo and I did not go back to hike the section of the PCT in Sierra we skipped.  It was a decision I have thought about, questioned and second guessed… until now.  If we had gone back to the Sierra we would not have arrived to Maryland when we did.  It also became clear why we decided not to go to the Smokey Mountains before heading to Maryland. While I did not get to say goodbye to him while he was alive, I am thankful to have been here in Maryland to say goodbye.

I miss my dad.  I will miss him every day for as long as I live.  Hug your family and friends today.  Heck, maybe even take them to IHOP before watching a football game.  Remember, all we have is this one short life.