Leaving with grace!
When my dad got close to the end, the back bedroom to our family home was a revolving door of people coming to say goodbye. Some of them had spiritual moments with him, some had humorous moments, and for some he saw them as if they were back in their child state. It was intriguing to watch. The miracle of it all was that he transformed into what ever the person seemed to need from him in that exact time in space.
The most tender observation was the interaction between my father and his sister. They were born less than a year apart and were forced by circumstance to always be close. Depending on the moment in time, they would laugh together or fight like cats and dogs, but they always loved one another. When it was time to stop treatment, my dad was clear that he wanted to pass at home where he felt the most comfort. His sister who was a nurse did not even let us think about it, she was going to stay with him until the end. My father went for 21 days without food until he passed and she did not leave his side, not once. During that time he was his most vulnerable, needing the most care, and could only bring himself to expose that side of himself to the one person that was closest to him for his entire life. I will never be able to express in words what her intimate contribution to his final crossing over has meant to me. There are no words powerful enough. It was beautiful to watch, she would wake when he woke and made sure he had someone to talk to at all times. She was so very discreet while providing care for him. She really only let my mom and I be there for the most gentle and exposing times. My fathers pride and honor was considered in every second. I learned from her what true selfless love is, and how to give every human dignity in moments of apparent weakness.
My father was such a strong man all my life. When you watch your parent change from strong to aging it is a mind shift. You realize we are all vulnerable and that life is not to be taken for granted. In my final moment with my dad, I sat quietly next to his bedside and very purposefully gave him his power back by placing my cheek in his hand and caressed it around the side of my face, just as he used to when I was a young child. I wanted my last memory of him to be one where order was restored and he was able to leave with grace.
The most tender observation was the interaction between my father and his sister. They were born less than a year apart and were forced by circumstance to always be close. Depending on the moment in time, they would laugh together or fight like cats and dogs, but they always loved one another. When it was time to stop treatment, my dad was clear that he wanted to pass at home where he felt the most comfort. His sister who was a nurse did not even let us think about it, she was going to stay with him until the end. My father went for 21 days without food until he passed and she did not leave his side, not once. During that time he was his most vulnerable, needing the most care, and could only bring himself to expose that side of himself to the one person that was closest to him for his entire life. I will never be able to express in words what her intimate contribution to his final crossing over has meant to me. There are no words powerful enough. It was beautiful to watch, she would wake when he woke and made sure he had someone to talk to at all times. She was so very discreet while providing care for him. She really only let my mom and I be there for the most gentle and exposing times. My fathers pride and honor was considered in every second. I learned from her what true selfless love is, and how to give every human dignity in moments of apparent weakness.
My father was such a strong man all my life. When you watch your parent change from strong to aging it is a mind shift. You realize we are all vulnerable and that life is not to be taken for granted. In my final moment with my dad, I sat quietly next to his bedside and very purposefully gave him his power back by placing my cheek in his hand and caressed it around the side of my face, just as he used to when I was a young child. I wanted my last memory of him to be one where order was restored and he was able to leave with grace.
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