Monday, September 28, 2009

"Listen to me now, I need to let you know, you don't have to go it alone"

If you were to step outside tonight into the cold autumn air, you'd be able to feel it. It's palpable. My Father is so close, he is right at the threshold between this world and the next. His breathing is not as ragged, he is not gasping anymore. There is not much apnea, just slow, quiet, barely perceptible breaths. His hands are graying, mottling. He can no longer swallow, he is unresponsive to all efforts to engage him. He is beginning the transition from life to death, death to eternal life. And I do believe that. What I am going through with my father is painful, and difficult, but it is also sacred, holy time. I see a peace about him tonight that I have never seen in him before, and I know he is ready.

I walked to Mom and Dad's house last night, knowing I'd spend the night, sure that he would die in the middle of the night. I cut down the path along the Prairie Village Post Office, it was pitch black and the vines have overgrown it a bit. I can't quite explain it, but I didn't feel alone. Someone walked with me, matching my pace. God, Angels, my imagination, I can't say. But I can tell you I felt a presence, and felt comforted. There was a question in the air last night, a whisper that was unspoken, but I heard it nonetheless.
"Are you ready?"
I thought, yes, I am. I am ready. I will cry alone and be strong for my Father. I will be with him and bear witness to his transformation. I wipe his mouth, rub his feet, hold his hand and tell him I love him, that he was a good father, that it was an honor to know him. I do all this because I know these are the last things I can do for him. My last acts as his daughter.

I have so much I'd like to tell you about, the wild host of characters I have met along this journey up until now, but those stories will have to wait for now. I can't focus long enough to write, my soul and spirit are curled up with his, waiting.

Thank you, my good friends. God bless you all. I'll see you all on the other side.







Where are we now?
I've got to let you know
A house still doesn't make a home
Don't leave me here alone...

And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you that makes it hard to let go
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
Sometimes you can't make it
The best you can do is to fake it
Sometimes you can't make it on your own

4 comments:

Unknown said...

You have my love, my mom's love. I cannot fathom what you and yours are feeling right now, but I wish that I could if only to gain some understanding that mere words can't impart.

What's that line Swayze says in "Ghost"? "The love, it's inside and we take it with us." Your father is taking so much love that nobody need even question it.

As always, my thoughts are with you and yours. *hug*

Anonymous said...

When my grandmother and my Uncle Mike were dying, they mentioned seeing people in the room; people who had died. My Uncle Mike hallucinated and saw monkeys on his dresser. My Uncle Josie, when HE died, his feet got cold, then his legs, and the cold just went right up his body, and he passed. His breathing was very very shallow, like your dads.
I wish peace to be with your family.

Jen said...

I wish that I could say something, anything, that would take the hurt away just a little.

Just know that you are all in my thoughts and prayers.

Fallen Angel said...

My thoughts are with you.
From far away.