Tough, very tough....
My Dad could go at any time now. I think this fact has given my mom and me a new sense of calm. I recognize, at least for me, what this is. It is acceptance. Acceptance that we have done all that can be done, made plans, hired the best care and now we have only God's decision to await.
Dad has slipped rapidly in the last weeks, and I have been spending a lot of time with him and my mom. I can't begin to express the gratitude I have that God has put me here in this place and time to be there with them. With no other close kin available it has been hard to be "it", but God's plan put me here for this purpose and it makes me glad when I see my Dad's eyes light up when he knows I've arrived.
But I cannot begin to describe how tough it is. Tough watching a once vibrant and active person reduced to a mere shadow of himself, his body so withered that he has to have help moving. Tough having to have my Dad hold on to me with his frail arms so that he can bear the pain when we do something as simple as turn him on his side. And to hear him beg us to stop in a childlike voice. But what a blessing to have him look at me and know I'm there through the ordeal, much as I used to look at him in my times of trouble.
This is all made bearable with the help of friends and the caregivers from Hospice who started as complete strangers but who have shown our family as much or more interest, care and compassion than some others who we have known well. Many people who care so much about my Dad have come to say good-bye and I have friends who have described to me their experiences which has been a comfort. It is tough, but I am also grateful that I get to go through this final trial. Death is part of living and so few of us in this modern age get to carry the experience through to the end like this. As I learned with the death of the Big Gold Dog, there is comfort and future strength in having a loved one or pet die in God's time at home. And I know my Dad recognizes, as I try to do, small reminders of beauty in the world. He pointed out to me the other day how stunningly gorgeous the golden red leaves of the oak tree are outside his sunny window. I thought to myself, I hope I have such a lovely view when I go.
My Dad could go at any time now. I think this fact has given my mom and me a new sense of calm. I recognize, at least for me, what this is. It is acceptance. Acceptance that we have done all that can be done, made plans, hired the best care and now we have only God's decision to await.
Dad has slipped rapidly in the last weeks, and I have been spending a lot of time with him and my mom. I can't begin to express the gratitude I have that God has put me here in this place and time to be there with them. With no other close kin available it has been hard to be "it", but God's plan put me here for this purpose and it makes me glad when I see my Dad's eyes light up when he knows I've arrived.
But I cannot begin to describe how tough it is. Tough watching a once vibrant and active person reduced to a mere shadow of himself, his body so withered that he has to have help moving. Tough having to have my Dad hold on to me with his frail arms so that he can bear the pain when we do something as simple as turn him on his side. And to hear him beg us to stop in a childlike voice. But what a blessing to have him look at me and know I'm there through the ordeal, much as I used to look at him in my times of trouble.
This is all made bearable with the help of friends and the caregivers from Hospice who started as complete strangers but who have shown our family as much or more interest, care and compassion than some others who we have known well. Many people who care so much about my Dad have come to say good-bye and I have friends who have described to me their experiences which has been a comfort. It is tough, but I am also grateful that I get to go through this final trial. Death is part of living and so few of us in this modern age get to carry the experience through to the end like this. As I learned with the death of the Big Gold Dog, there is comfort and future strength in having a loved one or pet die in God's time at home. And I know my Dad recognizes, as I try to do, small reminders of beauty in the world. He pointed out to me the other day how stunningly gorgeous the golden red leaves of the oak tree are outside his sunny window. I thought to myself, I hope I have such a lovely view when I go.
