August 18, 2020, 12:00:00 AM
Dave got sick with Covid-19 right after the Fourth of July. He stayed at home for the first week, as his symptoms progressed, until he was admitted to the hospital. His condition was very unpredictable and somedays were better than others. We had hope. July 20th was the last day I spoke with my dad, when he told me not to worry... that he was going to beat this virus. Sadly, that day would never come. Soon after that he was placed on a ventilator, however, the doctors and nurses still gave hope. His lungs improved, but his kidneys were failing. As the time came for him to be removed from the vent, the doctors still thought he would wake up. At first he would move his arms slightly, or open his eyes when someone would say his name, but he never truly became conscious again. They said that he had spiked a very high fever a couple of days prior, and due to this event, his brain had swelled. He wasn't going to be coming back as himself. He was breathing for himself but they were unsure how long his body would be strong enough. Luckily, my mother and I were able to go see him on his last night, after all the tubes had been removed. It was awful seeing my dad that way, but I am so grateful. I believe he knew we were there, and that he had been waiting for us, before he let go. Two hours after we left, he passed away with his nurse by his side. My dad was 56 years old.
We Love You, Dad.