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Dad.
Dad died yesterday evening.
He'd had a ton of ups and downs the past few months, periods where he'd really seem to be improving then...the phone would ring. He'd come to a point where he consistently recognized me, but he was still obviously suffering from dementia. He seemed to have settled into his surroundings at the care center, and kept the staff on their toes with his near-daily attempts to get out of his wheelchair and walk around under his own power. The staff all seemed to genuinely like him, and I trusted him with them. Sadly, he was about to be moved to a dementia hospital because the care center just wasn't set up for dementia patients. We'd just set those wheels in motion on Monday when they called Tuesday to tell me that Dad seemed to be developing pnuemonia and wasn't responding very well to treatment. He was being admitted to the hospital.
Dad had a host of smaller problems that, combined, spelled trouble. Congestive heart failure. Fluid in his longs. ANOTHER urinary tract infection (his fourth or fifth?), bacteria in his blood. Even in the condition he'd been in, he'd been an amazingly strong fighter, so I was worried, but I'd seen him (seemingly) bounce back before.
Thursday afternoon I got a call at work. He was non-responsive. His mental capacity had dropped sharply. Enzyme levels and other indicators signalled that it just didn't look good. I called my brother and headed to the hospital.
Combined with what he'd already been through plus his current woes, the doctors said (paraphrasing here) that there were so many irreversible age-related things going on at once and there really wasn't much they could do. They didn't have a lot of hope. They had him on fluids, pain drugs, medicines to artificially keep his blood pressure up. His kidneys were starting to shut down. Bro!monkey and I agreed that it was time to let him go and that it was what he would have wanted. They stopped the blood pressure drugs and made him comfortable.
Hubs!monkey was there for a bit, then bro!monkey's girlfriend/fiance came by. My uncle dropped in and said his goodbyes. My brother and I talked and laughed and remembered bits from our childhood as we sat with Dad. The nurses were beyond wonderful; one of them had recently lost her mother and was completely sympathetic. In the end, Dad passed very peacefully, and I'm so, so glad that both my brother and I were there to see him off.
I'm mostly okay; since it really wasn't a shock, like Mom's death, I've had time to come to grips with his inevitable passing. I'm glad that I got to see him cheerful and smiling and saying silly things in the last weeks before he died. It breaks my heart to think that a couple of weeks ago I watched him successfully feed himself and thought that things were really looking up. On the other hand, I'm incredibly grateful that I got to see such improvement.
I have a little copy of The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, and the last few times I've flown (I hate flying), I've read the following to calm myself. My brother's going to read this at Dad's funeral. I can't find my copy, so I snagged this from this page.
Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king
whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor.
Is the sheared not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink form the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Dance on, Dad. :-)
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I am very sorry to hear this news. At least it wasn't sudden and you got to be there with him.
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At least you had some happy times in the last few weeks. That's a lovely passage that your brother is going to read.
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{{{{{hugs}}}}}
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Keeping you all in my thoughts.
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I'm glad you and your family were able to be with him as he passed.
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*hugs*
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It's never an easy thing to have to go though, but I'm glad you got to be there, and he died peacefully with people he loved near him.
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You and your family helped him have a good, peaceful ending. Blessings on the lot of you. :)
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You and your brother being near him seems really fitting; I'm glad this wasn't as much of a shock to you as the loss of your Mom. My own Dad passed this last fall, and I'll always be grateful that we had recently seen and talked to each other.
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I am glad the last few weeks were happy for you both.