Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Final Hour ... NOT

Yesterday started out to be a pretty good day. By late afternoon it had turned depressing, a little scary. Dad woke from a nap, confused. Not drug confused, or sleep confused. More the kind of confusion a man who has always known what to do next might feel when he no longer has a clue what to do next or how to find out.

In a divinely orchestrated moment, I stayed calm and to my surprise and pleasure, un-argumentative. I think my calm voice and gentle demeanor helped me as much as it helped Dad.
I read to him from the Hospice Butterfly book which describes how the dying process works. How his body will begin to shut down. What he might expect. The book has been in the house for 18 months. I've read it more than once. I'm not sure Dad has read it at all. But that's neither here nor there. He got the message when he needed it. After awhile he was visibly calmer. He told me he was content because he knew what was coming. It's like his heart began to accept what his engineer's brain has been paying lip service to - that he's ready to go. In my vernacular, he's still straddling the line between this life and the next, but he is beginning to let go.

This morning, after a night's sleep, he's more like his old self. Like he knows his days are numbered so he has to get busy finishing things - clean the desk, find a flashlight, go through a box that has been under his desk for months. Things that don't seem too important to me, but need to be done to make him feel like he's doing something other than waiting.

Of course there is no way to know for sure, but I think my mom has been hovering around for the last couple of days. I have this feeling every now and then of her presence. One night as I turned down Dad's covers, like she used to do, I felt like she was there next to me. I had an instant desire to straighten the hospital corners on the bed! Last night, Dad looked like he was sound asleep. I was sitting in the chair next to the bed. He suddenly opened his eyes and asked me what was going on, who pulled at his arm. I'd just read in the Butterfly book that people who are dying dying sometimes see things. Do they feel them to? I had no doubt it was my Mom pulling on his arm. Probably she was just pulling up the covers, getting ready to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear how she's looking forward to seeing him soon.

Maybe I should be sad. I'm sure the day will come when my heart cracks open. It's strange though, I have this sense of peace about me. I see life happening all around me and see my father's final hours as a part of that. To think that he'll be leaving us can't be too dismal when I think of the place he's going.

Wishing for you moments of contentment and acceptance,
Merry ME





7 comments:

AkasaWolfSong said...

As I was reading your words just now Mary I knew deep in my spirit and soul that your Mother is their with your Father. I believe we are accompanied by our loved ones to the Other Side.

Your peace and calm are so important right now as you well know. It will pull you through the times ahead.

Please know that my thoughts and prayers are with You and Yours and I am holding you close to my heart.

I am here if you need to talk.

Love and Blessings of Peace...
Akasa
xoxoxo
p.s. glad you are going out to the pool and charging within from the waters...it is so important to keep that connection open and flowing.

Pamela Jones said...

Standing watch with you...

Molly said...

Thinking of you and your dad...

Qn Dani said...

Working so closely with the dying for as long as I did, I fully believe the loved ones come from the other side and gather to give comfort and ease the transition from this world to the next.

I hold you in my heart......

Tracey Catarozoli a.k.a Sally Sunshine said...

I am amazed yet again how you have touched my heart....and I have never even felt a physical hug from you or seen you in "real" life. How you do that is amazing to me. xxoo

AkasaWolfSong said...

Just stopping in to give you a sister hug Mary...I still walk with you!

You are Loved...

swallowtail said...

Dear One,

I too, am with you. What a blessing you are, for your Dad, and for us, as well. This tender post touches me deeply.

Blessings.

xoxoLC