|My Dad's star|
My Dad had cancer the last few years of his life, but he was very matter of the fact about it. He got a kidney out, had his weekly chemo, a little radiation and generally just did what the doctors told him and lived with it. He still went out to dinner and happy hour with his buddies and walked his dogs. I'd call him and he'd never, ever complain, maybe that he was just a little more tired than usual. So when he had a seizure and asked me to come down to Florida I went, immediately. Having been so close to death with my Mom for so long, I was not prepared at all for what might suddenly happen to my Dad.
His cancer had metastasized to his brain, and all his treatments were going to be stopped. There was talk of rehab and getting him back on his feet. My brothers flew down, we installed handrails and I met with his doctors. He never talked about dying, he didn't want to. He didn't even tell us what or where, if anything should happen to him. I felt like I was the only one that knew the inevitable was around the corner, and that corner was coming up fast. I knew the signs, I knew the feeling, I just knew it.
So, I got on 3 planes in the middle of the night to get myself back down to Florida. When I walked in his room his breathing was heavy, loud and coming through the grit of his teeth. It wasn't difficult for him to breathe air it just had the sound of endurance running out. The groan of a weight lifter pushing through that last set. I dropped my bag and kissed him. I told him that it's okay, that I love him, that he is loved, by me, by so many and that he's an awesome guy. I was here to hold his hand, like how he held mine when I was little and how he was one of the very first hands I ever held. I thanked him for that too. His breathing began to quiet. The sound of intention, concentration, determination all the stuff that has made up my Dad's life quieted down to a slow, relaxed sort of dream, and I laid down near him on the tiny love seat with my shoes still on, next to my suitcase. I drifted in and out of sleep to the softening sound of his breath and the quiet golf game on tv until I woke to a missing sound. The sound of his breath and his life that had let go. My Dad died within two hours after I got there. I got to hold his hand, it was okay, it was kinda beautiful. It was peaceful, it was logical, it wasn't like my Mom.
So when I came home, and walked in my Mom's room I knew what to expect, and it wasn't death.
|telling Peggy about Dad dying|
|I knew what to expect, and it wasn't death|
|Visiting Peggy, celebrating another birthday.|