Father Passing

Last Monday, I got a call from my brother, alerting me that my father had been taken to Medina Hospital (!) ICU and wasn't doing well. My father had called Tom to say he had fallen and had unconscious for several hours. Father was on the floor of his apartment and couldn't get up. Tom took him to the hospital preferred by my father's cardiologist. When they measured his blood pressure, he was promptly admitted. By the time he was moved to the ICU, he was on a ventilator with congestive heart failure and renal insufficiency. Because he was intubated, he was kept sedated and unable to communicate.

I drove the 35 minutes to the hospital every day, mostly to support my brother. On Tuesday, our half-brother, Michael, arrived from Texas. Our father remained on the ventilator on the advice of his doctors. His kidney function was basically non-existent and he was too weak for dialysis or really for any invasive procedure. Michael went back to Texas on Thursday, just in time for his sister to arrive from Houston with her mother and two children in tow.

On Friday, we had the ventilator removed and all the IVs discontinued. At that point, it was just a waiting game.

At 6:15 a.m. Saturday morning, Tom called to say that the nurse was going to give our father some fentenol to ease his breathing, but the result might be diminished oxygenation and that we should come as soon as possible. I got there by 7:30. At 8:31, my father passed away. One moment he was breathing, albeit shallowly. The next moment the lines were flat on his monitor and he was gone.

My father divorced my mother when I was five years old. I saw him a handful of times in my childhood. He got re-married, had a new family, got divorced again and moved on with his life. I interviewed him once for a family history paper in college. That was really the extent of our relationship. My brother, desperate for a sense of family when he got married the first time, invited out father to his wedding and maintained a renewed relationship. Because of this, I saw the man occasionally at family gatherings. I had no animosity for the origin of my middle name, but neither did I feel a warm, familial connection. He was just this guy. Seemed like a decent guy, but just a guy.

Death does funny things to one's emotions. I am saddened by his loss, more than I expected. I feel particularly bad for Tom, who worked so hard on creating a bond with his father.

Here is his obituary:

"William L. Shannon, age 78, passed away on December 12, 2015 after a short illness.

Born in Akron, he was a life resident of the area. Bill retired from GenCorp in 1996 after 37 years as a Research Assistant. He was very active in the Ellet Athletic Association and the Ellet Community Center, and also enjoyed working on Sundays and Wednesdays at the Ellet Bingo Hall.

Preceded in death by his son, William Jr. in 1970; Bill is survived by sons, Timothy of Akron, Thomas (Sheri) of Atwater and Michael V. (Gina M.) of Houston, Texas; daughter, Lori (Hung) Nguyen of Houston, Texas; grandchildren, Vincent, Katheryn, Logan, Sarah, Cody, Celina, Joshua, Andrew (Lisa) and Patrick (Marissa); and great-grandchildren, James and Paige.

Friends and family will be received Monday, from 6 to 8 p.m. at the Ellet Community Center, 2449 Wedgewood Drive, Akron/Ellet, Ohio 44312. The family suggests memorials to the Ellet Athletic Association or the Ellet Community Center."