February 6, 2013

"Goodnight Dad, I will see you in the morning," I whispered into my Dad's ear as I left him last night.

Yesterday was long. My sister and I stayed with him as long as we could. Our thoughts seemed to be one. We wanted him to feel ok to go. He was breathing heavy at times and other times as gentle as a baby. He laid on his bed, making not a move. Less facial twitches than before. His eyes open slightly at times, maybe looking out, maybe just too tired to close them.

My sister was going away for a week, leaving him with me, the staff and the hospice workers. It broke my heart to know she wouldn't be there for him when he passed. She explained that this was a once a year vacation and she had to go. Earlier in the day and in preparation of her absence we created a recording of her talking and singing amazing grace, his favorite hymn. I read 23 Psalms and she closed with a heartfelt encouragement for him to move on to the next world as god and his family were waiting when he was ready. 

In the early afternoon we realized he may no be ready to leave because of the company we were keeping with him. Joined by my stepmother, Rita, we sang him lots and lots of his favorite hymns as he lay motionless except for deep arduous breathing. We expected he enjoyed our efforts and could not possibly feel alone. We were visited by many hospice people and a few suggested though his signs looked as he may slip away at anytime some people won't go when others are present. I suggested to my sister that I leave when she left as she needed to do some errands. We told my Dad we were leaving and would be back in about an hour. We very much wished he would feel comfortable about slipping away if it were his time. After leaving and upon my return he was still a mortal. I commenced to burn the recording we made earlier onto a CD. I put the CD into the boom box on his dresser and checked to see if it worked; it did.

There is nothing that compares to watching a life end. It is beautiful and terrifying at the same time. When I watched him gasping for air I wondered how I will do if I get this far. And I realized the joy he brought to his parents when he came into this world. They brought him in and now we were helping him out. It was a privilege without compare. I love my Dad and took great comfort in knowing how much he loved me and my sister at this epic moment in his life. 

It wasn't clear if my Dad was getting closer to passing as we moved into early evening. It was clear that his breathing was becoming accompanied by a rattle which was unnerving. We asked for more meds for the congestion and an increases dose of morphine. They upped his morphine from .5 mil to 1 mil. The rattling in his throat somewhat subsided and we thought the morphine may help calm him down as we prepared to leave. My sister and I both realized it would be the last time all three of us would be together in this world. As we made our way out we stopped by the nurses station and informed the staff my sister would be leaving for vacation but we have made a CD for them to play with our voices so that he would hear especially my sister's voice and reassuring message. They responded enthusiastically to the idea. My sister and I parted ways after a long day, a long week and a long experience with Alzheimer's Disease. About an hour after I arrived at home my phone rang, it was a nurse from Sentry Hill, her name was Shannon. She told me my Dad had passed. I called my sister immediately to confirm. She had driven back, yes she told me, he is gone. She added the staff said they had played the CD for my Dad and when he passed, she said, "that son of a gun was humming along." It was amazing to me he found the energy to hum. In fact I am in awe. He was so without energy, so helpless when we left him. 

Last night I slept a little but was very distracted. You see, I have never had a Dad die before. I had thought about it and what it would feel like many times. But last night it was real. Strangely, mostly what I felt was relief, not sadness. 

This morning I went over to Sentry Hill to pick up my iphone charger which I left behind last night. I felt OK until I got into my Dad's room. The bed in which he passed away on was right in front of me. His shoes right on the floor. His body had been taken to the funeral home sometime in the night. Everything was still there, just as I left him, except him. I took some photos off the wall and opened his closet. His clothes still hanging, many familiar shirts. The tears welled up and I just couldn't help crying and crying. I held the sleeve of a shirt as though he were in it. I knew I couldn't hold on but tried. I carried a few things out to the car. Started to drive away but was interrupted with heavy emotional outbursts. My face was contorted to the point of feeling embarrassed. As I collected my thoughts and feelings I could sense my Father everywhere. Suddenly, I realized the tears were becoming joyful. I looked out through the windshield and into the cold winter sky and tree line. My Dad was everywhere as the tears rolled down my cheeks.

I drove away from Sentry Hill and recalled the last words I said to my Dad, "I will see you in the morning."