My dad passed away on Friday, January 11th. After exactly 4 weeks in hospice care. As much as I knew that this day was coming it was still one of the hardest days of my life, if not the hardest. And as sad as I am that he is gone, and how much I miss him, I am so very glad that he isn't suffering anymore. It was no way for him to live and it wasn't how he would have wanted to live.
I was with him on the night that he died. And I am so very glad that I was there. At work on Friday my step-mom let us know that the hospice nurse said she didn't think he'd make it through the weekend. So I left work to go home and gather up my things for the weekend to stay at her house. I was back at her house by 6:00 that night. My mom was already there (she came to stay earlier in the day) and Jenn was on her way from Marshall, Illinois. We had planned to all stay with Dad until the end.
It was so weird sitting there watching him. I saw him on Wednesday and he had just lost even more weight and was struggling so much more to breathe. It was full body breathing that would take between 8 to 10 seconds between each one. I am not sure if he realized we were there or not. I got there and while Mom and Reva were eating I had a few moments alone with him. I got to tell him one last time how much I loved him. But this time I also said that it was okay for him to let go. That he shouldn't be scared and that we would make sure that Reva would be okay here. I also once more got to tell him that he was a great Dad. All the while just holding his hands.
We all hung around him and watched tv. It was very surreal and I kept wondering if this was really happening. I actually had started writing a blog post while there and it got deleted. I can't even really remember what I was writing at the time other then the fact that again, this didn't seem real. My sister got there around 8:15. After she was there she spoke with dad for a few minutes and his breathing started to get worse. We were told a sign to look for was that his hands and feet would start to get really cold. When I got there around 6, his hands were still mostly warm.
We watched two episodes of 1600 Penn (or 1600 Park... can't remember the name of that show) and the whole time I was watching I kept looking at dad, and his breathing. And I remember thinking how much it has gone downhill in just a couple hours. And I remember looking around at my mom, sister, and Reva and thinking they didn't seem as concerned as they should be. I felt like we should be quiet and watching dad, not watching tv. But I didn't say anything. I thought maybe we should be praying, or saying something, but I didn't know how to say that to anyone else. So I said them in my head and all the while sat there and counted the seconds in between his breaths.
Finally, around 9:00 I couldn't stay on the other side of the room anymore, so I went over and stood by the side of his bed. I was rubbing his hands and just watching him breathe. His hands were pretty cold. His breathing was now about 12-15 seconds between. I just remember the tears coming down and my mom, sister, and Reva as they all came and stood next to the bed. We were all there, and Reva started talking to him. She was telling him it was okay to let go, that we would all be okay. I can't remember what all she said, I just know that all four of us were crying.
I remember everyone starting to walk away, and I guess I just couldn't leave his side. I was just standing there rubbing his hands and watching his breathing slow down. Which is weird because it would slow down, but become more and more full body breathing. And I was still counting every second between breaths. And it was so horrible because after every breath I would want him to breath again. And then he would, and I would relax and start my counting over again. Even though I knew he was in pain and nothing would help him, I couldn't stop hoping that he'd keep breathing. I knew he wasn't expected to make it through the weekend but I didn't think he would actually die that night. I thought we'd have more time together. It is so hard to sit there and watch your dad struggling to breathe. Knowing that really you have all along been praying for him to stop holding on and be at peace as he goes to heaven, but still always wishing he'd keep breathing.
Around 9:15ish (no one was really paying attention to the time) I took my hand away for a second and as I did I felt something change. I don't know what it was or if I am just imagining it. But his hands were so cold by this point. And I look at Reva. And Reva is sitting on his other side and she asks me, when did he last take a breath. I told her they had been pretty consistent around 12 to 15 seconds but we were past that now. I can't forget how she looked, as she is leaning down next to him trying to see if dad is breathing. And Reva is looking for mom to see what she thinks. So Mom is there next to Reva and she can't feel him breathing either. As we are all around his bed crying we realize he is gone. He was no longer with us. I pray so much that I didn't take my hand away too soon. I had been rubbing his hands for the 20 minutes or so and I just so hope I didn't take my hands away at the last few seconds. I just don't know, and that kills me to think that perhaps I moved my hands before he died, and that he died without anyone touching him at that second.
After this things began to blur. We had to call hospice. And tell them that we thought Dad stopped breathing. And then you just wait. We waited for an hour for the nurse from hospice to get there to verify that dad did indeed pass away. And what is the proper etiquette for this hour of waiting? My dad's body was there, but it wasn't my dad. But yet I still couldn't leave his side or let go of his hand. I knew it was the last time I would see him. He was so sick he didn't look at all like the memory he would want me to have of him but I knew it was the last one I would have.
So we all sat and talked, and took different times sitting by dad's hospital bed. We had the tv on. We just waited. At some point Reva also called the funeral home to let them know, because they would have to come pick up dad. The nurse who came was great. She actually knew Jenn from high school and was in the band while I was there too. She waited with us. Because after she got there it was still another 45 minutes to an hour (if I am remembering time correctly here) for the funeral home to come. So we all sat, and made small talk, and started telling stories of dad, because we didn't know what else to do.
The funeral director and Reva's next door neighbor (he works for the funeral home) came around 11:30 at night. As I kept thinking I'd been through the worst at this point, I wasn't prepared for them to come. Because they said again that this was the last time we would see him and to make sure we said our goodbyes. Mom went up and gave dad a hug and a kiss. So I went up and did that next. I went into the other room so that Reva could have some privacy to say her goodbyes to dad. Then they asked us if we wanted to be in the room while they transferred dad and took him out of the house.
I choose not to be in the room for that. I'm not sure if I made the right decision or not, but I just didn't think I could handle it. So Reva and I waited in the kitchen while Mom and Jenn stayed with Dad. I couldn't see my mom, but I could see Jenn. And I could just see her breaking down which made it all the more worse to not be able to see what was going on. So as they were taking him out of the house, I went in to watch. And that's another memory that will never leave me, knowing that my dad was being taken to a funeral home and I would never get to see him or touch him again. And it sucked more then I thought possible.
We had all this time to prepare, we knew this day was coming, I knew how much he was struggling, but yet I couldn't stop hoping he'd continue to breathe. And when he actually stopped, it sucked. So now, 17 days after he has left us and gone on to heaven, I still can't figure out how I feel. I'm so very glad that he is no longer in pain, and I know he is in heaven, but I just miss him. I miss my dad. And while I didn't talk to him every day, or see him every week, knowing that I won't ever talk to him or see him again on earth is just so painful.
