My Dad died a week ago today.

[RevCheesehead]

A week ago Monday, my fiancee and I were speaking with the doctor, who told us Dad was failing, and it would be only a matter of days. He was dehydrated and his body was shutting down. The next morning, I stopped in to see how he was doing (I had to run errands), and he was in distress. He had just finished breakfast (he ate well!), and he was having some kind of seizure/attack. I rushed to his side and took his hand, telling him I was there. He couldn't see (his eyes were fixed) or speak, but he squeezed my hand hard. The nurse told me he was taking his final breaths, and I told him to go be with Mom, go be with Jesus, and that we'd be OK. Thirty seconds later he was gone.
My brother & family arrived on Wednesday, and we had the funeral on Saturday. Somehow, we managed to put together an amazing service. I was in a good place emotionally, so I actually sang a setting of Psalm 23, and played the piano for two of the hymns. My brother gave the most poignant remembrance, filled with love and a most fitting tribute to an amazing man that I was honored to call my Dad for 48 years.
Dad's passing was an act of grace. He did not suffer or linger. The previous day, I had a fluid moment with him when all the neurons were firing, and I told him the doctor was there. "why? Am I sick?" "Yes, Dad - I think you're getting ready to go be with Mom." "Oh, ... OK." Then I took his arm, and said "Dad, this is very important. I want you to know how much I love you." He grabbed my arm, and patting it with his hand, he said "and I love you very, very, very, very, very much."
What a gift. What an amazing thing to walk in the room as he is ready to pass, to hold his hand, and be with him in that holy moment. I am in a good place emotionally, as I rejoice that my parents are together, no longer hindered by their bodies. I feel their presence all around me, and I give thanks to God for giving me the best parents I could possibly want.

http://www.nitardyfuneralhome.com/obits/2010/06/17/overman-j-fred-june-15-2010/

[orleans]

1. oh, ruth, i'm so glad you were there for him--with him

i wish someone had told me that it was only a matter of days when my mom went to the hospital for a week last autumn and then on to a nursing home for another week. they told us she is probably a candidate for hospice--six months or less, they pointed out--but that was all i was given. one of her docs said she was dying but there was no time frame--i remember thinking: "six months? that would be wonderful to have six more months with her."

i called a hospice and asked if a nurse could come and see her--and talk to me--that although she was in the nursing home for palliative care (or whatever they call it) she seemed to be getting so much worse. i wanted to know if someone is ever too sick to come home (to be moved or transferred).

she had been in a hospital and then nursing home for two weeks. the next morning the hospice nurse came, asked me what our plans were. i told her to bring my mom home the coming monday (this was the tuesday before). she said "monday seems like such a long way off."
that's all i needed to hear.

i called my daughter and told her to get home (from college) right away if she wanted to say goodbye. that afternoon i talked to my mom, told her she would be able to see my dad (who passed twenty years ago), her parents, her sister. i told her i would be okay, that everything would work out and not to worry, and that it was okay for her to let go. i told her i would find her again someday, somehow, i would find her again.

my mom held on until my daughter got there--when she looked at my daughter she smiled her last smile. we were both with her, holding her hand, and she passed over less than an hour and a half later.

those two weeks were intense/crazy/confusing/devastating. we didn't realize she was so sick--it came as a shock. all of a sudden she was dying! and only the hospice nurse (who didn't work there and wasn't paid to stop by and talk to me) was able tell me the truth of how soon she would be gone. here i was thinking/hoping for six months--and it turned out i had less than nine hours.

talking to my mom, saying what i did to her, meant so much to me--and i think it meant a lot to her just to hear that.

i do believe i'll be okay too--that eventually everything will be okay. but, even now, still, i am so lost without her. we lived together and i lost my companion, my day-to-day friend, and so much more.

i'm glad you're in an emotionally good place. i'm still working on that. but i also feel her around me, with me, most of time. i still cry every day, and talk to her every day. i can almost hear what she would say to me--we knew each other so well--and am glad to get "signs" from her letting me know she is still near me.

it's the hardest thing i've ever gone through. i'm sorry for going on about "my story" (i've debated whether or not to just wipe all this and simply offer condolences). i read the obituary about your dad--he sounds like a great guy and you were fortunate to have him in your life.

take good care.

[RevCheesehead]

4. My dear orleans,

Sometimes another person's death will trigger a well of emotions that we didn't realize was there, or send forth a burst of things we've been holding back. I just went through some of the posts here, and found where you posted about your mother's passing. I'm sorry that I missed it - I've been kind of backing away from this group while my dad's health was declining.
I am so glad that you shared your story with us. And I'm very glad that you didn't delete it - you needed to write it out.
When my mom died, a friend reminded me that grief sometimes acts like a pressure-cooker. You don't dare let it all out at once, because it's too much for us to handle... So, you let it out a little at a time until the pressure subsides. When the time is right, you open up. Only you know when that time is right - there is no schedule for grief.
I am so glad that my sharing of Dad's last moments provided for you a safe place to open up. That's why this group exists. We've all experienced loss, and to some degree, we understand what we're all going through. My mom's been hanging around for the last couple of weeks, in some ways helping me to prepare. And since Dad's passing, they've BOTH been here together, smiling, laughing, and letting us know how very proud they are of our family.
I, too, have felt that my mom's passing was the hardest thing I've ever endured, and it's taken these last four years for me to be at peace with that. Knowing that she and Dad are together is comforting beyond words, and has given me the ability to simply breathe and be thankful.
Thank you for reading Dad's obit. He was, indeed, an amazing man, and he's given me so much of himself. I am blessed beyond words.

Peace to you, my friend. :hug:

[auntAgonist]

2. Ruth, how sorry I am for your loss ....

My heart goes out to you. What a loving tribute to your Dad.

I have no words. Know that I'm thinking of you.

:hug:

aA
kesha

[RevCheesehead]

5. Thank you, Kesha.

In this situation, words really aren't necessary. We know, because we've walked the same walk.
Thank you for being my friend. I cherish you and your loving compassion. :hug:
Ruth

[CC]

3. I am still without words

because there are so many and they are all tangled up in my head. Sending you lots of love and prayers for continued peace and strength. :hug: Oh, from a past conversation---You do know that now both of them will be right there watching over you and gently pushing you forward.

[RevCheesehead]

6. More than you realize, Ferrettessa!

My friend Sue called me the day after, telling me that both Mom and Dad appeared in her dream. They said "You tell Ruth to clear off the piano and get back to her music RIGHT AWAY!" So, I did. I played and sang for several hours, and realized that I could not only play, but also sing at Dad's service. I want to share the words of one of the songs, based on Psalm 23:

Shepherd Me, O God - words and music by Marty Haugen

(refrain) Shepherd me, O God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life.

1. God is my shepherd, so nothing shall I want,
I rest in the meadows of faithfulness and love,
I walk by thge quiet meadows of peace. (refrain)

2. Gently you raise me and heal my weary soul,
you lead me by pathways of righteousness and truth,
my spirit shall sing the music of your name. (refrain)

3. Though I should wander the valley of death,
I fear no evil, for you are at my side,
your rod and your staff, my comfort and my hope. (refrain)

4. You have set me a banquet of love in the face of hatred,
crowning me with love beyond my power to hold. (refrain)

5. Surely your kindness and mercy follow me
all the days of my life;
I will dwell in the house of my God forevermore. (refrain)

It was truly a holy moment. O8)

I love you, CC. :hug::hug:

[havocmom]

7. Aww, Ruth, so sorry for your loss

Good end though. And he saw you through to where someone else loved you, so he probably figured it was OK to let go?

Oh, and I have absolutely NO DOUBT that your mom and dad will be with you on your wedding day. Love does not perish, and those who have gone ahead seem to be well aware of our calendars, always making important occasions and sharing celebrations with us.

There is love.

[RevCheesehead]

8. It was a good end, wasn't it?

Mom and Dad are already showing up on a regular basis... in fact, they're sending messages through my friends to me, too.
Love never ends. O8)

Thanks so much, havocmom. :hug:

[ceveritt]

9. Your father

Ruth:

I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Of course, those words are completely meaningless. They can provide no real comfort. But they are all I have here.

In 1993, around Thanksgiving, my father died. He had cancer. My sister, her husband, my wife and I got to watch him die by inches over a few months. I would not wish that on my worst enemy. My sister was with him when he died. At least he appeared not to be in pain then.

I am glad you seem to be in a good place, so to speak.

The week before he died, I did tell him I loved him, and that I had no problems with the way I was raised. That might sound a bit cold and clinical, but those were the words he needed to hear.

I wish you all the best.

[RevCheesehead]

10. Thank you so much, ceveritt.

It sounds like you were able to tell your father what you needed to say, as well as what he needed to hear. That gives them the ability to let go and move on. I was lucky, because I had a lot of quality time with my Dad - almost a full year of family leave so I could be with him. Best decision I ever made.

I hope you are doing OK. My heart still reaches out to you, knowing the depth of your loss. Just remember that time really is your friend. Sending you lots of hugs.
Ruth :hug::hug:

[ceveritt]

13. You are most welcome.

Again, you are most welcome, Ruth. I wish I could offer something more substantial than the few pitiful words I had.

Doing OK? No. Not particularly. I just returned from visiting a woman I was hopelessly in love with, and who had responded in kind for the last several months. However, two days after I arrived, she informed me she'd ... changed her mind. She loves "the thought of me," but not me. If I could stop crying long enough, I'd laugh my ass off about that.

I'm weary of pain. I'm sick of this life. Every single thing I've valued has been torn away. There's just nothing left.

Anyway. I do wish you the best, Ruth. Once more, my condolences to you regarding your father's death.

Gotta go.

[livetohike]

11. I'm so sorry for your loss Rev.

:hug: May every single moment you have spent with your Dad live on in your memory and may those memories comfort you. I'm glad you were there for him and his transition to the next life was peaceful :hug:.

[RevCheesehead]

12. Thanks so much, livetohike.

I am so grateful that I took a year off to be with Dad. Every moment was, and is, precious.
Thanks for your words and especially the hugs. :hug::hug:
Ruth