It's been 5 years.

5 years ago the world I knew changed forever.

I was at college, alone in my apartment. I had woken up early for a Saturday and was just laying around not doing much of anything. My phone rang a little after 9am and "Daddy" popped up on the screen. I chuckled to myself because he always called early and woke me up. I thought he'd be surprised to hear that I was already up. I sat down in my computer chair, prepared to do some computer browsing as we talked. Instead, it was the phone call that would shatter my heart.

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded panicked. I couldn't place who it was and he kept asking who he was talking to. Neither of us could understand each other and finally he said "Tandy died. He died. He died." Of course, you can imagine my shock. I had no idea who I was talking to, but I knew the phone call was made from my dad's phone. I didn't know why anyone would play such a cruel joke so I had no choice but to believe him. I remember changing my AIM away message to "omg"... it was all I could do. I didn't cry... not yet. I asked who it was again and he told me it was Jim, one of my dad's best friends. He thought he had called my dad's cousin, Paul. When he found out it was me he started freaking out and yelling for my step-mom saying "It's Tiffany. I'm talking to Tiffany!" He apologized over and over for being the one to tell me the news. All I could get out of him was that when my step-mom had awoken that morning, my dad was down stairs and non-responsive. They assumed he had a heart attack. I hung up the phone, totally numb. I had no idea what to do from there.

My then-boyfriend (now, husband) lived two doors down. I called him but he didn't wake up. I went to his door and started pounding on it, all the while pushing redial trying to wake him up. I remember bawling, and finally collapsing in front of his door. I felt so out of control and all I wanted to do was wake up from this terrible nightmare. Finally, sitting in the cold hallway outside of his apartment, knocking on the door over and over, I did the only thing I could think of- I called my mom. My step-dad answered the phone. They were Christmas shopping. I shakily asked to speak to her and told her what I knew. I don't remember much of the conversation except her saying "oh my god honey" and "are you okay?" and "are you alone, do you want us to come get you?" I have no idea what I said to her but I'm sure that was one of the hardest phone calls she'd ever received. I told her I was trying to wake up Dan and that we'd be on the way home afterward. I kept knocking and calling him but he never answered.

At this point, I remembered that my roommate had a key that would open any door (she was a resident assistant in the apartments). I knew where it was but of course, wasn't "supposed" to. I went back to my apartment, found the key, and let myself into Dan's apartment where I woke him up and told him the news. I remember him hugging me while I bawled and telling me to go pack while he packed his things. I didn't have a car, and we lived in the same hometown so it made sense for him to bring me home. I threw some things in a bag- some dress pants and shoes, a blanket for the car, some tissues and went back to Dan's apartment. We were ready to leave in record time.

We didn't talk much. I didn't want to start bawling again... he didn't know how to make it better. I kept trying to call my step-sisters because they were out of town but no one answered. I did speak to my step-mom at one point on the drive home and she told me that my dad was still at the apartment. They had called an ambulance and the paramedics were there, but I guess because he was beyond saving they weren't in a big hurry? Or perhaps they had to check out everything to make sure the death was natural causes? I don't know. I just remember thinking it was weird. I called my mom and told her and she said that she and my step-dad would go over to see if my step-mom needed anything. I guess my step-dad went in but wouldn't let my mom see him like that.

To say that his death devastated a lot of people would be an understatement. The next few days were a blur. Because he was young, only 44 years old, he didn't have life insurance or a plan. My step-mom didn't have a savings account. It was a rough situation. I spent a lot of time over there because on the one hand, it felt like the right thing to do. I sort of think I kept waiting for him to walk in the door though. My sisters and I got pictures together for the funeral, chose an outfit, got it dry-cleaned, made arrangements, etc. At one point, I had a serious talk with my step-mom about his final wishes. She told me they had talked about it and he had requested to be cremated. Because I didn't know either way, she said the decision was ultimately up to me and if I didn't want him to be it was fine. I figured that if that's what they talked about, why would she lie, and said that was fine. I also decided that he would want to be an organ donor (it said so on his license, but the final decision is up to the family). Later, we were told he was able to save/help 13+ people with the donation of his healthy organs.

As hard as December 16, 2006 was... December 20 was maybe even harder. It was the day of the funeral. I felt physically ill, thinking of seeing him and telling him goodbye. My sisters and I had decided to say something at the service. He was not religious, so the ceremony was short and we felt he deserved more than that. Our speeches were heartfelt. Funny at times, serious at times, heartbreaking at times. I think he would have been proud. The hardest moment for me was leaving the room for the last time, knowing I'd never see him again.

As much as I'd love to say that I remember my dad for all of the wonderful times we had together when he was alive, the image of him at the funeral is more clear to me. I hate that I remember these things so clearly instead of the happy things... like the tickle of his beard and mustache, or the smell of smoke and cologne, or the deepness of his voice when he would call me by my middle name. I'll always remember those things too, of course... but sadly, they are fading as time goes on.

I'm not sad anymore. Of course, I miss him. I'll ALWAYS miss him. I hate that he was taken from us before he got to live his life, but more than anything, I hate that he'll never meet his grandkids. I can just picture him totally smitten with Nolan. Nolan is his only grandson... all the rest are girls. I know they would be best buddies. A lot of people say Nolan resembles my dad, and I can certainly see it when he makes certain faces. I know that I want Nolan to know he has another grandpa in heaven, but for now I'm content knowing that he is watching down on us. I still- 5 years later- catch myself taking a double take when someone walks by who resembles him. Or, reaching for my phone to call him when something exciting happens. Then I remember that he already knows. He's in heaven, he's proud of me & my sweet little family, and I guess that's as much as I can ask for.

Always in our hearts...
Alan Tandy H.
12/16/2006

Comments have been disabled for this post. I know that you all are sorry for my loss and I sincerely appreciate that. I wrote this post for me... so that I don't forget. I don't ever want to forget.