I lost my dad this week.
After a long and difficult illness, one that was so hard to watch him deal with, we had to say goodbye.
I will never, for my life to come, forget what that morning was like or how it unfolded. We were called to the hospital as dad had taken a turn for the worse. He was unresponsive, and sadly, never regained consciousness. After several discussions with the nurses and his doctor, it was apparent that his life was winding down and his release was imminent. A priest was called to administer The Last Rites and my youngest child was brought from school to be with us.
Sitting there, watching each labored breath he drew, my mind was all over the place. I worried about my children and how they were handling this. I worried about my husband who was so uncharacteristically weeping openly. I worried about my mother who seemed so childlike and lost and unsure of what was happening. I worried that dad might be feeling some distress as well. I worried about how I would react when the time came and would I hold up as he would want.
With my mom holding one of his hands and me the other, with my husband and children holding each other and dad's legs, I was so fully aware of how special this moment was and would be for us all. Dad was not alone. As the last moments in his life were passing, he was surrounded by everything he loved in life. All of the pain was gone and he had us all there .. just the way he loved, together. As the time ticked by, each of us praying, each of us trying to hang on to something for later, each of us settling what was in our hearts with this man we cared for so deeply. They were the most beautiful and frightening moments I have ever experienced. Beautiful in their simplicity and frightening in their brevity. Moments that I will never let go of.
As his breathing slowed, as the sound quieted, I focused on his face. I don't quite know what I was looking for but I looked at him this way until he took his last breath. His face, amazingly, showed nothing but peace. The peace in which he will sleep forever.
It occurs to me that my dad died a very rich man. His pride and joy was his family. His grandchildren, young adults that they are, gave him riches beyond any he imagined. They filled him with joy. They filled him with pride and they were as crazy about him as he was them. He lived for them and they know it.
As for me, in my own way I added to those riches. All this week I thought of the ways I had made him proud and the joy I had given him. I thought of funny, silly things that make families what they are. The inside jokes, the laughter and humor that was a constant in our lives. Even in pain, even while failing he wanted that laughter. I like to think it made his time easier, made his discomfort less so. For in that laughter was love expressed. In that laughter was the familiar affection of a father and a daughter. In that laughter was the tie that bound us to each other. The tie that will remain for my life to come.
Indeed.
After a long and difficult illness, one that was so hard to watch him deal with, we had to say goodbye.
I will never, for my life to come, forget what that morning was like or how it unfolded. We were called to the hospital as dad had taken a turn for the worse. He was unresponsive, and sadly, never regained consciousness. After several discussions with the nurses and his doctor, it was apparent that his life was winding down and his release was imminent. A priest was called to administer The Last Rites and my youngest child was brought from school to be with us.
Sitting there, watching each labored breath he drew, my mind was all over the place. I worried about my children and how they were handling this. I worried about my husband who was so uncharacteristically weeping openly. I worried about my mother who seemed so childlike and lost and unsure of what was happening. I worried that dad might be feeling some distress as well. I worried about how I would react when the time came and would I hold up as he would want.
With my mom holding one of his hands and me the other, with my husband and children holding each other and dad's legs, I was so fully aware of how special this moment was and would be for us all. Dad was not alone. As the last moments in his life were passing, he was surrounded by everything he loved in life. All of the pain was gone and he had us all there .. just the way he loved, together. As the time ticked by, each of us praying, each of us trying to hang on to something for later, each of us settling what was in our hearts with this man we cared for so deeply. They were the most beautiful and frightening moments I have ever experienced. Beautiful in their simplicity and frightening in their brevity. Moments that I will never let go of.
As his breathing slowed, as the sound quieted, I focused on his face. I don't quite know what I was looking for but I looked at him this way until he took his last breath. His face, amazingly, showed nothing but peace. The peace in which he will sleep forever.
It occurs to me that my dad died a very rich man. His pride and joy was his family. His grandchildren, young adults that they are, gave him riches beyond any he imagined. They filled him with joy. They filled him with pride and they were as crazy about him as he was them. He lived for them and they know it.
As for me, in my own way I added to those riches. All this week I thought of the ways I had made him proud and the joy I had given him. I thought of funny, silly things that make families what they are. The inside jokes, the laughter and humor that was a constant in our lives. Even in pain, even while failing he wanted that laughter. I like to think it made his time easier, made his discomfort less so. For in that laughter was love expressed. In that laughter was the familiar affection of a father and a daughter. In that laughter was the tie that bound us to each other. The tie that will remain for my life to come.
Indeed.
3 comments:
I never have words for a time like this. Simply know you are in my thoughts.
It seems like you were ready for this, and you see he had had a good innings. I'm glad you were all together that must have helped.
Beautiful. You are a very strong and brave woman, MrsP.
"darlin"
Coming in late but I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for your loss. That was a beautifully written post. I feel the same about watching someone die. It's such an intimate experience, like watching a baby being born, and we should feel lucky that someone allows us to be a part of theirs. I lost my grandmother similarly a few years ago. (HUGS)
Post a Comment