Twenty years ago today, at 420 pm, my daddy died. I was there with him, at the Hospice residence, when he passed from this world into God’s hands. He died on a Friday.
My dad basically died from failure to thrive. He was diagnosed with lung cancer in May and he already had emphysema and COPD. He didn’t even want to walk to the toilet because he was so out of breath.
The whole week that my dad died was crazy. My dad had a DNR order (Do Not Resuscitate) and his doc was out of town. The doc who was filling in wanted to force my father to eat by placing a feeding tube in him, because he didn’t want him to die on his watch! We refused and after much haggling with the health insurance company, we got him transferred to Hospice.
So off to Hospice we went on Tuesday. These people are ANGELS. Amazing, compassionate human beings. They made my dad comfortable. He was still pretty lucid on Tuesday… But tired of the fight and in pain. The only medication he was getting was morphine by IV.
On Wednesday my mom and other family members came to say goodbye. My mom and dad were madly in love with each other right up to the end, and my mom didn’t want to see him suffer. I called my siblings to tell them that they should probably come (most of them lived about 4-5 hours away). My Uncle Andy (mom’s brother) and his wife Aunt Cleo stayed around the clock at the Hospice house. Their strength was amazing. Wednesday afternoon my daughters Jenni and Tiffany (who were 9 & 6) came and read a couple of books to their pop-pop and then cuddled up with him for a 2 hour nap. I am so glad they had that time with him. And I know he was comforted by their presence.
I worked the night shift Thursday night and was able to talk to my friend Carolyn who was my rock during that time. At around 5 am the Hospice called me to let me know that my dads blood pressure was slipping and that soon it would be time. I left work and headed there. All day Friday I kept my family updated and sat with my dad. He was not lucid most of the day and I knew it would be soon. I told my dad that I would take care of my mom and that he was he best husband, father, grandfather, brother and son anyone could ask for. I told him it was OK to go and a tear slid down his face… He was gone less than an hour later.
As I left the Hospice House to go to my little sister Nannette’s house, to let the family know I turned on the radio and Amy Grant started singing “I Will Remember You”. I remember sobbing while driving and being on autopilot all the way to my sister’s house.
I called my husband, who was living in West Virginia, and told him my dad had died. My son Nick and Michael drove to Florida in less than 15 hours. Michael didn’t want to upset Nick, so he didn’t tell him his pop-pop died. He just told him that they were starting their vacation a week early (we had a planned trip to our time share in Orlando for the following week). I think the most devastating moment of the entire week was seeing my son’s face when he walked into my mom’s house with Michael. He was 4 weeks from turning 11 and he knew… He immediately asked where his pop-pop was and my mom told him he had died. My dad was Nick’s hero. This is my mom and dad with Nick the day we brought him home from the hospital…
The viewing was Sunday and I took Nick early to the funeral home. He needed time to say goodbye without everyone else around. The funeral director brought a stool next to the casket and Nick leaned in and laid next to his Pop-pop and cried and cried and kissed him and said goodbye. I am still grateful for the funeral director allowing my son the time he needed.
The funeral was on Monday… The place was packed. Lots of people we didn’t even know. They had worked with my dad over the years and came to say goodbye. That day, July 20, 1992 was the first time all 7 brothers and sisters had been together since my oldest sister married in 1969. We haven’t all been together since, either.
I miss my dad. He was a pretty amazing human being. He rarely raised his voice. He was compassionate and supportive, he was a mentor and encouraged me to speak around adults instead of being hushed. We read the paper together on Sunday mornings. I wish, so wish he was here to meet my grandkids… They would have simply adored him!
I will be walking one day
Down a street far away
And see a face in the crowd and smile
Knowing how you made me laugh
Hearing sweet echoes of you from the past
I will remember you.
Flamidwyfe's Blog 
What a beautiful and heartfelt post. Dads are beyond words, special beyond our capacity to understand, and sorely sorely miss when gone. We lost Dad on a Sunday, I was also with him when he passed. May 8, 2011. Everyone called him a gentle man and and gentleman. Pulmonologist. He spent his life trying to help people like your Dad at the ends of their lives. What a beautiful memory you have shared. Give yourself time, again, to grieve your loss and remember the joy.
Thanks, Sandra 🙂
I loved my dad’s pulmonologist. He was compassionate and totally got it when my dad said he’d had enough. Hugs to you!
🙂 Caretakers (like you) are some of the most special people in the world.
Sandi, what a lovely remembrance of your dad. Thanks for sharing these precious memories and pictures! I love old photos. My dad had a similar journey only w/ esophageal cancer, it was gut wrenching to watch him gasp for breath. Big Hugs… as you celebrate and grieve again.
xoxo
*anna
Behind these tears I,m sharing this blog with all my friends. I’m at a loss for words. Thanks for saying it for me Love Mom
Live you, too, Mom 🙂
What a wonderful post…the love radiates through your words! I hope that your wonderful memories bring you comfort even after all this time!
Lovely post, Sandi. Tears ran down my cheeks for most of the read as I remembered my dad as well. My brother, two sisters and I were also with him (as we were all together for the first time in several years as well) when he passed on May 5, 2010. He passed in a very similar way as he too had lung cancer and emphysema. What a beautiful remembrance of your Dad and I love that that song was playing for you just after he passed.
Beautiful post & pictures, what a wonderful man & wonderful memories x
Lovely post, Sandi, just lovely!
Thank you all for your comments and for sharing your stories 🙂
I read this at work today but I was unable to comment via my work laptop. Tears filled my eyes as I read through your words about Dad.
That stuff about “time heals all wounds?” is a bunch of b.s. and lies.
You never get over it.
Nothing really eases the ache.
We just get through it.
Eventually we get to a place of thanksgiving, of feeling more gratitude than grief and of thankfulness than pain.
my heart is with you
MJ
Thank you, MJ. It’s the encouragement, the love and the wisdom I miss the most. I wrote about my dad a couple of years ago, and a middle of the night visit while hiking the Pyranees 2 years ago… https://flamidwyfe.wordpress.com/2010/05/01/ain´t-no-mountain-high-enough/
It’s that wisdom that I miss the most.
You are so right MJ. I believe that the grief always remains the same size, but we learn to grow bigger around the outside of the grief and this helps us to cope and carry on. x
So sweet! Hospice is an amazing group! They were there for my dad also, amazing grace!
I just read the tribute to your Dad with tears streaming down my face. Your Dad sounded like a really special and amazing person, and I am sure that he thought the world of you! I’m 26, and a midwife in New Zealand, my Dad passed very suddenly 18 months ago. I don’t think it matters if you know or not that your Dad is going to pass away, you are still left with an empty space in your heart that was only able to be filled with a father’s love. I hope that you can have comfort in the belief that he is waiting for you somewhere, and you will meet again 🙂
Love,
Danielle
Danielle… I’m sorry for the loss of your dad, as well 😦
You are right. We grow and live and love around that empty space. I take comfort in knowing that one day he and I will meet again.
Midwifery in New Zealand is the best 🙂 I’ve thought about coming there a million times!
I’ve been thinking a lot about my Dad lately too. I’m grateful I din’t have to watch him suffer like your Dad, but I didn’t get the chance to say good bye. I was more than a little bitter for a long time. I realize now I didn’t need to say good bye. I really feel he is still with me. I sure would like to give him a big hug though!
Yeah, missing the hugs is a big one. {{{{HUGS}}}}