angel, just like my Donnie. At the end of her life, my mother was on a ventilator and heavily sedated was a memory that I could not shake for years. For a long time I couldn’t remember her walking, laughing, or being the Mom that I knew; the only images were of my seventeen-year-old self feeling helpless in the face of what was happening. I chose not to hand the albatross of seeing their father in the exact opposite way of how he lived his life to our young daughters, especially on that tightrope kind of day.
***
I realize now that even as I thought about my mother’s death, I was actually reflecting on her life. I was strengthened by the memory of her and resolved to continue fighting for the life of my precious husband, my angel. I wanted to focus on his life. I thought, He cannot die today. Didn’t think about the girls being without their father in that moment. I just wanted information and for him to stay alive. That’s all. Keeping him here and getting the right balance of drugs and sedation so that he could survive. Not only was his life on the ropes but so were ours and for those first twenty hours, all I could think was, Don’t take him, please …
CHAPTER 5 - SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME
“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be;
someone to watch over me.”
—Ira Gershwin
We were emotionally charged with our fighting for his life boxing gloves on our third day, a Sunday. My bonus daughter Christine flew in from Pennsylvania with her small toddler child, Riley, and then-fiancé, Mike; my father, Green, who loves Don like a son; my sisters Kathy and Alene; and Aunt Lillian. Adam, Paul, and Pastor Larry, all kept constant vigil with me since their arrival Saturday. I could not nor did I want to leave Don’s side.
As word got around, the waiting room filled with our close friends and family. Don’s Uncle Dick (who was being treated for pancreatic cancer) and Auntie Char drove up from San Diego with their daughter Cheryl. Though we were all distraught, people gathered there to give and gain support and love and at this stunning turn of events for our beloved boy. I don’t remember how I told the girls that Daddy had become very sick but I know that I called them; that’s all I remember of telling them. It’s a blur now but I remember they were not at home; they had gone to friends’ houses later that morning when the drama was unfolding. It was a day of receiving friends, spending as much time as possible with Don, retelling what I knew to those who called, staying on top of the meds and the medical tests the doctors were doing, and trying to keep my wits about me.
Even though it had been a long time since I’d been an ICU nurse, instinct kicked in immediately. I needed to know everything and to be spoken to as a colleague and not just as an afraid and overwhelmed wife. Don’s primary doctors would come in and out, particularly Dr. Asher Kimchi who had long become Don’s friend as well as his cardiologist for nineteen years.
After my sisters arrived, my college girlfriend Pat brought the girls to the parking lot of the hospital later that evening; they were overwhelmed and didn’t know what to think or feel except fear and dread. Liisi watched me as I walked toward the car; she and Skye were assessing my body language because they could read my face and tell if they could feel safe. They slowly emerged out of the car and tumbled into my waiting arms. Looking into their puffy eyes, we hugged and kissed for some moments. I gained strength just from holding them. I told them everything I could that I knew to be true at that moment: that Daddy was very, very sick and the doctors were figuring out what had gone awry in his body. I reassured them of how strong Daddy was and what a fighter he was. I also gave them permission not to go into the ICU to see him. Trying to be strong for me, they had gotten most of their crying done before getting to the hospital and were numbed by the news.
They were so fragile and were frightened to see their powerful Dad laying so still that I felt the ICU was a bit much and decided to have them remain outside. I stayed in the parking lot with them for an hour or so and we shared some laughs to lighten the heaviness for a moment. They were ready to go home and I had to entrust them to each other’s love and care and the support of my amazing friends who showed up in herds for us.
***
Later that night, our dear friend Ben Vereen flew in from New York to be with us. Seeing Ben reminded me of the time when Don and I first started dating. Ben hired me for my first professional gig when I moved to Los Angeles as a background vocalist with Don. We rehearsed at Debbie Reynolds’s studio for three weeks along with Tony Warren (best friend and awesome singer), Wendy Fraser, and eight musicians. It was a tight, fast-paced show staged by Hymie Rogers. I felt so lucky to have landed a real singing job and not have to go to the hospital for my twelve-hour nursing shifts from seven to seven. Don and I had only been on a couple of dates, but he was very forward in saying that he wanted me to be his girl. I thought he was moving too fast and I told him as much. I was not in the mood for a boyfriend, having recently gotten out of a stinker of a relationship. All I wanted was a singing career. But there he was with those blue eyes …
First stop on the tour with Ben was a two-week engagement in Lake Tahoe; we stayed at the Valhalla Inn down a snowy road in Tahoe, and walked uphill to work at Harrah’s two shows a night. I did not have a cell phone in 1987 though Don did (quite an expensive toy) so I’d just give him a call from the room to say hello and he would always send flowers wherever I was staying. Such a romantic … I loved that about him.
Next stop was Hollywood, Florida, playing the Diplomat Hotel. The band members and singers stayed across the street in another part of the hotel, and we played two shows a night there for another two weeks. I learned so much watching Ben perform show after show; he is a masterful showman, brilliant and legendary. We were there for two weeks and I’d given Don a call on our second night there.
It was February, near Valentine’s Day, and flowers came. I was thrilled to get them. One day he called my hotel room. I asked where he was thinking he was somewhere in his house. He said, “I’m in the lobby.” I thought he was joking; we had only shared a couple of smooches so far, and yet here I was in Florida and he was supposed to be in California.
I said, “What lobby?”
He said, “At the Diplomat.”
I reminded him that he lived in Hollywood, California, and I was in Hollywood, Florida.
Then I said, “What are you doing here?”
He simply said, “I was in the neighborhood and I came to see you.” “I’ll be right over,” I said. I hung up the phone, jumped and danced a little and squealed with delight (at least a high C) in my little hotel room, brushed up my makeup, and did another little dance. Never had any man gone out of his way for me or had any man other than my Dad done something so over the top for me. I wondered what Don’s gesture meant. I asked myself, “What does he want from me?” We had only gone on two dates, so you can imagine my shock and delight in the same moment.
He had flown all the way across the country to be with me and to get to know me better. Was he trying to impress me or woo me? I didn’t know because I didn’t know him so well, but assumed perhaps it was a little of both.
I ran across the street and dashed into the lobby where he stood leaning against a giant post near the lobby entrance wearing a medium blue V-neck sweater that matched and accentuated the blue of his eyes. His dark brown blow-dried hair and mustache added to the Burt Reynolds–like drama set against the dark wash jeans; he was very sure of himself, all five-feet eight-and-a-half-inches of him. He looked six- feet tall to me that day.
I ran to him but didn’t want to give the signal that because he’d done this for me, I was supposed to do something for
