27 hours of no sleep, you think I would be tired. But I wasn’t. The night my dad died, I didn’t sleep at all. My body ached, but I wasn’t tired. I just wanted my dad back. I was lying in his bed not believing what happened. It was all too surreal for me. I’m sure you’re wondering what happened; well let me tell you my story.
In April of 1969, my father was born to Karen Shaffer and Charles Shaffer, Senior. He was born in Hialeah, Florida. He grew up in Hialeah until he was about four years old. They wanted to get away from all of the developing that was going on in Hialeah, so they moved up to Gainesville. He attended Idylwild Elementary School until fifth grade, and then he attended Lincoln Middle School, followed by Eastside High School. When he was 21 years old, he met my mom. They were together for 11 years. They had my brothers and me in that time. They got a divorce mid-2001.
My mom moved to Vermont shortly after the divorce. She came back to visit us in Florida, and when I became a fifth grader, I went up to visit her. My brothers were too young to fly up, so they didn’t. In the middle of my fifth grade year, I moved up to Vermont. I moved back the summer of my sixth grade year and attended Kanapaha Middle School. The summer of my seventh grade year, I moved back up to Vermont. I was in Florida the summer of my eighth grade year; my brothers were in Vermont visiting my mom. Everything was fine until August. August 1, 2006, however, tragedy struck, but it really began on July 31.
On July 31, we had some rain, but it wasn’t a big storm, even still, we had a tree fall in our back yard. It knocked our power out and we were really hot all day. It was humid and sticky out. My dad was really heavy, so he and the heat didn’t really mix well at all. I was really worried about him, so I talked him into getting a generator. He found a used generator, and all he had to do was trade his Moss Burg (a shot gun). The generator gave power to our AC, his tattoo shop, and the lights and stove. It felt so good to have the AC on again. After that, everything seemed to be fine.
It was later on the night of July 31, we were sitting around talking and joking with friends, it was around 11:30 p.m. For a couple of hours we just sat and talked. At around 12:00 to 12:30 a.m. on August 1 our friends left. My dad decided to get in the shower and brush his teeth. I sat on the couch and my uncle in the chair and we watched the movie “Saw”. After my dad got out of the shower, he kissed me goodnight and told me he loved me. He went into his bedroom and laid down. My uncle and I turned the movie back on, and watched that after my dad went to bed.
He knocked over the fan and had my uncle come in and help him with it. After about 15 minutes of playing with the fan, he finally got it where he wanted it and my uncle came back out and we continued to watch “Saw”. Around 2:00 a.m. my dad came back out and ran into the kitchen and grabbed the inhaler. My uncle asked what was wrong and my dad complained of having trouble breathing. He sat in his chair and took hits off of the inhaler. The way he was inhaling just wasn’t right and I knew it was something other than an asthma attack. I was CPR and AED certified and I knew that he needed to raise his hands above his head. He did just that, and while he was doing that, he told my uncle to call 911. I know my dad and he usually doesn’t rely on the ambulance to help him. So I knew something was wrong, I told him to get outside because he needed fresh open air, not stale air. He went outside; all the while my uncle was on the phone with 911. He was putting his weight on his car and where his hands were, there were indents. I was standing there holding his arm telling him everything was going to be okay. The ambulance got there and they took him away. I walked with him to the ambulance and told him I would see him when he got back. Little did I know, he was never coming back.
They worked on him in the ambulance and at the hospital but he kept coding, and they had to give up. Coding is where you die, but they bring you back to life, and then you die again. They called the time of death as the first time he coded, 2:51 a.m. At 2:51 a.m. I was walking with him to the ambulance. He died while I was holding his hand, and I didn’t know it. I felt like such a horrible daughter. When I got to the hospital, they told me that he had died. I crumbled. I walked outside with Runner, a friend of my dad’s, and sat on the bench. I looked at Runner and said, “I’m his daughter, I have the right to see the body, right?” He told me I did; I walked back inside and requested to see the body. As they were walking me to the room, they explained to me that there were going to be tubes sticking out of my dad and wires and stuff. I told them that I had seen the doctor shows and I knew all of that. I remember walking in and seeing his body, lying there, lifeless and cold. I grabbed his hand, I hugged him and kissed his hand. After that I don’t remember anything.
As I sit here today trying to remember what happened between the time right after I saw his body, to the time I left my house to go to my grandpa’s house, I can’t. It’s like my mind doesn’t want me to remember. Every time I close my eyes, I try to remember, but all I can remember is his body lying there lifeless.
Throughout all of this, my mom has been there for me and my brothers. And I thank her so much. From this I have learned that life is way too short to take for granted. I’ve learned to never take for granted the people in my life. I know that, as much as I don’t want to, that I should go on and live my life and keep my dad alive through memories. But sometimes it gets so hard that I just want to stop, but I live for my dad. And that is how I get through day to day life. I hate to see all of those children with their dad, knowing that I won’t be able to have that again. I went to my cousin’s wedding, and his wife did the father-daughter dance and I cried because I realized that, at my wedding, I won’t be able to have a father-daughter dance. It hurts to see everyday little things because I know I will never be able to do that with my dad, but I realize that my dad wouldn’t want me to mourn his death, so I try not to. All I can do is thank God for the days that I had with him. I do that everyday. I do regret not telling him I love him before he left in the ambulance, but I know in my heart, that he knew, and still does know.
There is a song “One More Day” by Diamond Rio, and it kind of expresses how I feel. I know that if I were to get one more day with my dad, I would keep wanting one more day with him. I know that now so all I wish is to be able to see him again when my day comes. I don’t spend my time wishing that he was still here because I know he will never be able to come back, but I do wish that, when I die, that I get to spend eternity with him.
This piece was written in memory of my dad; Charles W. Shaffer Jr.
Born April 14, 1969. Died August 1, 2006.
