Yesterday, which now seems so long ago...
two of my sisters and I gathered
to be by the side of our Dad during his final hours.
We sat where we could (handy wheel chairs)
It was Valentine's Day
We were able to take some of that Valentine food
back to Dad's room to eat.
He was fighting the good fight.
And we knew it would not be long now.
We looked at his poor beat up legs from all the times (30 plus)
he deliberately "fell" out of bed.
These same legs that ran 100s of miles in marathons.
When we would ask him why he was falling out of bed he would say something like,
"I wanted to." or "It gives me something to do."
This all started after his Susan died on Christmas Eve.
He continued "falling" out of bed until the night before he died.
We'd often wondered how he did this with paralyzed legs??
And on that night before Valentine's, I watched as he picked up each leg with his hands and tried to swing them over the side of his bed, preparing to launch.
"No Dad, don't do that." He could be a naughty patient.
As the pain increased and before they got it under control,
he wanted to hold our hands.
Very tight, and both of them, as you see him with Peggy's.
Later when Dad was resting comfortably we all decided to go be with our Valentines, with plans to come back that same night,
or first thing in the morning.
About 2 hours later the facility called.
It was Mary, the med nurse.
She said, "Hi Jill, uh, so Patricia the night nurse was just checking on your Dad, and she can't find a pulse."
Maybe that was just her kind way of telling me?
Den drove while I called my siblings.
As I walked into my Dad's room and saw him,
I was filled not with grief, but gratitude.
I just felt this overwhelming feeling of thankfulness
that I had this dear man as my father.
I thought of how hard he worked through the years for all of us.
How his mother died when he was only six!
He was just a little boy. A small little boy with no mom.
And he was never even told she died.
Just that she went away.
As I watched him in his bed last night, I thought of that little boy.
That little boy who grew up to marry my mom
and have EIGHT children.
His Dad soon remarried, and then remarried again.
My Dad was pretty much on the streets by age 13.
I kept thinking of this line from a Reba McIntire song:
"...Everything he gave to us, took all he had."
I looked around his room to things he left behind.
Oh that funny hat he wore on his 80th birthday.
Robin, Jill, Dad, Peggy, Heidi
The painting, one of his running friends did for him.
Two ice cream bars he hadn't finished.
And how he loved his Rocky Road Ice-cream.
One night Robin bribed him saying, "Dad, if you stay in bed all night, tomorrow I will make you a chocolate milk shake."
It worked! (but only for that one night)
And his peanut butter and celery for his snack each day.
About the only healthy thing he kept in his apartment.
My Dad lost his wife on Christmas Eve,
and he died of a broken heart on Valentine's Day.
I hope, I so hope, he knows how much he is loved.
10 comments:
Wow! That was beautiful, Jill. So honest and real. Brought me immediately back to my dad's last days. Thanks for the pictures of his legs. They could have been my dad's legs. Him lying in his bed, making his transition, could have been my dad. Like births, I think the dying processes are so similar. They are so momentous!
If I know you, your dad definitely knew he was loved!
Was thinking about you all day on Valentine's Day, knowing the time was near, and what you must be going through. Wished I could be there to give you a hug.
Love you!!
darlene
Thank you Darlene. I thought of you LOTS the past few days and how you not too long ago went through this same challenge with your Dad. I hope we can talk before too long.
PS And yes, so many similarities between coming into this life and leaving it. Neither of which are easy.
Thought I would let you in on a little known act of kindness by your Dad way back in the 70's. I was probably 20 years old and fresh out of Synanon. He must of known that I ran a marathon a few years prior. Much to my surprise he called me (I was staying at my Dad's at the time) and invited me to go running. He swung by to pick me up and we did just that! Love, Cousin David :)
I had no idea he did that, David. Thank you so much for sharing that with me!
I feel bad that I didn't get to be there with him holding his hand on his last day!
Heidi
I know Heidi, I feel so bad about that too but it's mostly my fault. I really thought we had more time! But you did more than all of us...being by his side nearly everyday he lived by you. You were an angel and he always wanted you there. You were not afraid to help him in anyway he needed. He will thank you into the eternities. I just know it.
JIll: My heart goes out to Heidi and I want to say something to comfort her but I don't want to make it worse for her or you. So I will just tell it to you, without expecting you to post it, and then you can let me know what you think.
Heidi: Please know that you didn't have to be present holding your father's hand that last day for him to know how much you loved him. Your sister Jill is right, you were there for him so much and when others could not be. That is what is most important.
I have read many times that when a loved one is dying, their soul goes before the body. So perhaps the last time you, Heidi, held your father's hand was indeed his last time on earth. And sometimes a loved ones prefers to cross over only with the guidance from those gone before them.
My father-on-law died moments after we left the hospital.
I was with my father his last day but he waited until I left for home before drawing his last breath.
I was with my stepmother, too, and I turned to walk a few feet away and she chose that moment to leave. It was only seconds from when I was holding her hand and talking to her from when I walked away and then turned back.
God knows best and sometimes best is for family not to be present. Rest assured, your father felt loved and that love encouraged him to take the hand of his Heavenly Father.
JILL: Do not say anything is your fault. Nothing is your fault. All you sisters are amazing women. The care and love for your father was beyond description. Your parents gave all you the greatest gifts: love, compassion, sensitivity, dedication, kindness, and so much more.
pjc
Thank you for those sweet comments. Dad was always so appreciative of any little thing we did for him. I'm sure he would or does love this post. He was always one of the biggest fans of your blog and would remind me to read it!
Heidi
Such a sweet post! I love the picture of your dad and you and your sisters! I'm sure he felt the love of you and your siblings even though some were not able to be at his side in the last days. I was present at my dad's passing and that was such a sweet experience. I wasn't able to be present the morning my mother passed but I was with her for a few hours the afternoon before. It was hard not being there for her but I know she felt my love for her, as your dad felt his children's love. My prayers are with you!
Beautiful post Jill. I have always loved your writing. I feel sure that more times than not, our loved ones wait until we leave the room to make their exit. I know my mom did. My grandma did and my grandpa also. I had the privilege of attending Sacrament meeting at a care center this weekend and then again in the "memory" care center in the same building. Someone said that they call it "God's waiting room." Those people just waiting to graduate to the other side. Your dad was ready. Sending love and prayers to all of your family. I love the picture of all the hands.
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