Michael Frances Ferulano
08-23-1939 to 08-14-2008
After Kendle’s graduation Tim (my husband) hopped a plane home and I went to Seattle. My father Michael Ferulano was scheduled on August 14, 2008 for open heart surgery and I had promised to be there. I got in on the night of the 12th. On the 13th I took my dad for dinner at his favorite restaurant 13 Coins. You would have to know my dad to understand why this was such a production. Michael never lived by the same rules that apply to the rest of us. He did things in his own order, his own time and his own way. Anything else just did not exist for him. So needless to say this was a 3 hour dinner. I won’t bore you with the details but lets just say dad could eat! He called it his “last supper”. He was going in for surgery the next morning and he wasn’t supposed to eat after midnight. At 11:59 he was still drinking a bloody mary and finishing off the chocolate mousse!
We covered alot of conversational ground that night. As usual he tried to spark a debate on politics, religion and his favorite argument on abortion. I have gotten very good at calmly using the phrase ” Dad, change the topic or this discussion is over. I am not debating with you.” He loved to debate! It was like pick a topic and a side and let’s go. We also covered topics I don’t think either of us wanted to, but in retrospect I am so glad we did. It was around 12:30 am when we left and I said I would see him at the hospital in the morning.
The next morning at 6:30 they brought me into the pre op room to see him just before surgery. As I was walking up he looked at me and said “there she is, I was just talking about you (yikes, I can only imagine what that conversation was!). The doctor said it was time to put him under and to say goodbye. I gave him a hug and a kiss and said “Okay, Let’s not make this a 16 hour production! I will be waiting for you in the waiting room so lets get in and get out and get it done. I love you dad.” He said “I love you too babe” and they wheeled him away.
That was the last time I will ever speak to my dad. He was on the table for about 16 hours (ironic, huh?). The surgeon had someone call me in the waiting room every 2 hours to give me a progress report. When things started going south he actually came out and talked to me himself. He was very honest and compassionate. My father had complete respect and faith in Dr. Aldea. We both knew he was doing everything in his power to save him. God evidently had other plans. The last time Dr. Aldea came out he said that he was fading and he wouldn’t last the hour. He hugged me long and hard with tears in his eyes. It meant alot to me. He said when dad was gone he would call and let me know, then arrange for me to say goodbye.
If it hadn’t been for my best friend Christina being there I think I would have just shattered into a million pieces. I wasn’t angry. I knew my dad knew the risks and he made an informed decision to do the surgery now as opposed to later. I knew he trusted Dr. Aldea and respected him and he had been with my dad to the last breath. I just had this crushing weight of sadness sitting on my chest. To know I would never again here his voice, get emails, silly cards in the mail, ect… EVER. All those things that had been so important to dad were just gone.
I love you dad.
Tags: dad, died, dr. aldea, father, goodbye, open heart surgery
September 28, 2008 at 6:52 pm |
Tina – I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been and still is. May you have grace and peace for the time. I am so thankful you were there and able to be with Kendle too when he graduated. Your recollection of the graduation was incredible. I’m sure he was so thrilled to see you and show off the new him.
You’ll be in our thoughts and prayers.
Joe
October 5, 2008 at 2:09 am |
I was a close friend of your dad. My name is Joe and I currently live in Montgomery, Al. Michael and I talked several times each week, for many years. Oddly enough, the last time I saw Michael was last August. We had dinner together at the 13 Coins. I had planned a trip to Seattle, this week, and already had plans to meet Michael at the restaurant.
I would love to communicate with you and share some great stories.
October 5, 2008 at 3:10 am |
I met your dad in 1989. I was completely broken down by alchohol and I made contact with him on a local help line. We talked for hours. At the break of dawn he sent me a fax. It simply said, “Break On Through To The Other Side”, the title of an old Doors song. I read that fax and felt hope for the first time in years. That started our friendship.
I was there the morning that your dads house was invaded. I arrived to have our weekly breakfast together at a restaurant on 15th W in Ballard.
He greeted me at the door, blood streaming down his bathrobe, and a shadowy figure standing behind him with a knife. He said to me “Joe, Look at my neck, I’m in trouble”. I turned and walked down the street and called the police.
In the mid-ninties, I was going through a divorce. Your dad and I spent a lot of time on the phone. I was later to discover that at one point Michael went to my wife and plead my case. Although it was in vain, I think that was one of the most remarkable things anyone has done for me.
Your dad and I had lots of conflict. It was an important component in our friendship. We both had some tough struggles and often the emotions would boil over.
I loved talking politics with you dad. We sort of fed off of each other. We would talk late into the night. We both loved Art Bell. Many times he wouuld call me at 3 am my time and we would go until dawn
I last talked with your dad in Late July. We had a falling out on the phone. I knew he was going in for surgery, so I thought I would leave it alone for a while. We had both done that with each other, before. It always worked.
This time I didn’t have a chance. We never patched it up. I can’t tell you how deeply I regret not calling him. Recently I called just to listen to his voice on the message service.
I will be in Seattle in the Spring. When I get off the plane, I’ll go directly to the 13 Coins. I love it because it reminds me of the old charachter of Seattle. Your dad and I had a favorite booth. He hated to sit at the counter.
I’ll have the Chicken Parm and a glass of Chardonnay. I am sure I will remember your dad and I will try to finish that last conversation we never had.
October 6, 2008 at 5:33 pm |
Joe, I would love to communicate with you about dad. You can email me direct at knittin5@knitting-love.com or just keep posting here. I just got back from Texas last night, helping my husband work on hurricane Ike so I am a little behind on email and such. Dad mentioned you quite often in our talks over the years and my little brother Chrisopher remembers you as well. Thanks for the posts. Tina
October 11, 2008 at 3:27 pm |
I have no words really… I just wanted to offer you my hugs and support. I hope you know how much you are cared for and thought of. I’m here for you, whatever I can do. ((((HUGS))))