Dad a.k.a Robert Carter Pittman, Jr.
Until last year, April 11th has been Charlie's birthday, beginning in 2001. It was also my brother-in-law's birthday, Doug Dickerson. We were able to celebrated both birthdays together a couple of times until Doug was no longer with us.
Last year, April 11th also became the day my Dad passed.
I was at work early that day, checking on some things for the upcoming Unit inventory sale.
I got a call from my youngest brother telling me to get to the house as quickly as possible. Dad was not in a good place. He told me what had happened, but I still struggle to talk about it a year later. I rushed to the house, not knowing what to fully expect. As I rounded the bend, I saw LOTS of flashing lights. I pulled into my regular spot because an ambulance was in the other spot. A truck was in the driveway and there were multiple cars on the street.
Before I went into the house to check on Mom, I went to the ambulance. I wanted to see Dad. It wasn't good enough to be at his feet. I went around to the side. The daughter in me and the pastor in me kicked in. I wanted to see my Dad and I wasn't going to be stopped. It was not an easy sight, seeing Dad there in the ambulance, not able to communicate. I was given a little bit of hope.... they were doing everything they could.
They took off to the hospital and I went inside to get Mom to get us there too.
I have been in hospitals and waiting rooms as a pastor. When it is your loved one, it is different. I am grateful for the chaplain. He was kind. They took us from the ER waiting room to a different waiting room. I knew what that meant. I could feel it. The chaplain offered to get us coffee, water, etc. We were all there... me, my brothers, Mom. It was surreal. The doctor came in to give us an update, talk about DNRs, etc. While talking with us, she got a code.... they had been able to revive Dad. She left quickly and then came back. Having been without oxygen for so long meant that things weren't good.
They prepared us to see Dad and prepared Dad to be seen.
That is still surreal and a blur. My Dad was no longer physically with us. He was gone.
I had just been with him at work on Tuesday. He had been healing well from his fall that hurt his arm and leg. He had dialysis on Wednesday. Then, Thursday morning, he unexpectedly had complications with breakfast and he was gone.
Everything was a blur. We left the hospital and headed across the street to Love's Funeral Home to make arrangements. I called a doctor's office and dialysis to let them know what happened and that Dad would not be making the appointments, ever.
We picked out a cool wooden casket, made all the arrangements, etc.
One does what one has to do in the midst of an emergency and tragedy, There were tears, there was laughter. We joked. We planned. We did what needed to be done.
I am forever grateful for friends, colleagues, my District Superintendent and SO MANY people who let me and us know that they cared, they were there for us.
The hardest thing for me to do on Thursday, April 11th was to let my son know that his grandfather, Big Daddy, was no longer with us. I had texted him 'happy birthday' wishes and asked when a good time to talk would be. It turned out to be that afternoon-- mid afternoon, I think. It's a horrible responsibility to share that news with someone on their special day. He was miles away, in New York City. He was finishing his semester, and planning to graduate in May. He didn't think he would be able to make it down, but he did.
I had already planned a big day Saturday at work to get rid of the inventory at the Unit. A friend made arrangements to be there with me that day. It was chilly that morning. I grabbed Dad's letterman jacket from his Dalton High School football days. I remember thinking and writing that morning: 'When the patriarch of the family and business dies, what do you do? You take him with you and do what you need to do.' Those weren't my exact words, but close.
The funeral was the following week. Family drove up from South Georgia and Atlanta and others flew in from Colorado and Massachusetts and California. Friends and colleagues came. My ex came. That was cool. I had gone to his father's funeral too.
The funeral went well. We walked out to the final song in the program, "Battle Hymn of the Republic" better known as "Glory, Glory to ole Georgia. Dad was a huge Bulldogs' fan. It was fitting.
I shared in the prayers at the grave site with Pastor Rick from St. Mark's Episcopal church. The most meaningful part was throwing some dirt into the grave and shoveling some dirt into it. I watched as each of the grandkids took their turn and the great-grandkid too. It was therapeutic.
We went to the house afterwards. We shared stories.
Then a year of firsts without Dad began. My first day of work. Mom and Dad's first anniversary. The first Father's Day. The first Thanksgiving. The first Christmas. Dad's first birthday not here. There were other celebrations too-- graduation, birthdays, anniversaries. How weird to not Dad with us. There were business things that had to be done.
Leading up to the one year, I have been reflecting on Dad's last month with us and the last week. There really isn't a day that goes by that I don't about him. His presence is palpable at work, at the house, in so many things.
There is still much to do, to organize, to go through, etc.
And then there's all the memories.... from childhood onward. Dad is forever with me, with us. For that I am grateful.
I am so glad for the two years of working with Dad. We had many conversations about his life growing up. We talked work. I picked him up from dialysis and took him some too. I took him to some doctor's appointments. I drove him around in the golf cart around the businesses.
I recorded some of Dad's stories. I haven't gone back to transcribe them yet. I will. I learned that he preached to the chickens behind the house when he was younger. I learned that he and his sister Carol visited the neighbor's horses. I learned that Dad went to basketball games with his grandfather Frank at Emery School. I learned things about my granddad and other family members. We talked about many of his entrepreneurial adventures over the years.
I look back. I reflect. I remember. I grieve.
At the same time, I live in the present. I work the businesses. I spend time with Mom and my brothers.
I will always be grateful for all Dad was and all Dad did for me. There are lots of stories to remember.
Today, I remember and grieve an incredible man who loved well, who lived fully, and who showed me how to do so many things.
Dad, I miss you.
Love you much!
"Duh" (Dad's nickname for me-- "D" from my name and the vowel pronunciation of the last letter "a")
Some pictures of Dad and family over the years-- not in any order.
