I had left out some interesting descriptions and details of dad's passing on Sunday April 4th. I really want to go into it and describe a few things so that I don't forget them.
Right after I spoke with dad and squeezed his knee and told him that I loved him I headed out the door to go home to get a change of clothing. I don’t really know why I was going home to get a change of clothing. I think it was either because subconsciously I wanted to get out of the experience with dad for just a little while, or I just wasn’t thinking clearly. I remember getting into my car, and putting it in reverse and immediately calling Mike. I told him about what I had gone through with dad that morning and the previous night and I cried. After I talked to Mike, I called my sister Debbie. I wanted to talk to her and I needed to vent in such a way to let her know how I felt about this situation in hopes that it would sort of relieve me from the things that were happening. I remember just going into great detail of having to clean dad up, and how it felt to me. I just told her everything I was feeling, and there was a good deal of anger involved. The last thing I told her was how I did not want to be there when daddy died. She was shocked by that. It was because I had already seen so much and to have to live with dads finally act of dying was too much for me. I believe dad knew that too and that is why he waited for me to leave. Mom made the same comment.
When I was back at moms, after getting the phone call from Teresa that dad had died, I noticed that dad really did look the same to me as he did when he would sleep. His mouth always sort of fell open and he could just never close his eyes all the way. So many times we would watch him to make sure he was still breathing, all of us so nervous and always on edge. The only difference really was his skin coloring. He had gone a shade of yellow.
We waited now for the hospice nurse to come and pronounce dad dead. Mom sat on the couch, tears streaming, just repeating out loud how dad went. Family members sort of drifted around as if they were in a daze. When the hospice nurse arrived, she came in and she was very serious and quiet. Mom told what happened and how dad came to be in this state. The nurse checked dad and confirmed the obvious. Mom asked her if she could close dad’s mouth, but to no avail it could not be done. The muscles no longer worked. She asked me to help her shift dad up some so she could straighten out his leg. Dad had left us with one leg bent, like he was just resting still. When she moved dad upward, you could hear air escaping from his lungs. I tried not to notice. She pulled the sheet up to his chest and then called Parrish Funeral Home.
It was sort of awkward for her, it had to be. She stood under the carport and waited for Parrish to arrive. All the family was doing what they could do to console each other. I sort of stuck near the nurse and tried to make her feel comfortable. Funny how I do things like that, I mean I was concerned about her and didn’t think to comfort anyone else, not even myself. I spoke about dad, about his final breath as told by mom. Then we talked about the spring, the trees and the flowers. She was curious about the trees in the front yard so we walked out and I told her about each one.
Parrish arrived in a white van. They came in the front door. They asked if we wanted to cover dad’s face when they took him out. Mom wanted that, so they put dad on a bed and they wrapped him in sheets and then instead of a body bag, they had a quilt with elastic around the edges. They put the quilt over him and it sort of enclosed around the sides of the bed itself. They then put seatbelt straps across him and carried him out the front door. We stood and watched dad’s final exit. The first time he had been outside of the house in four months.
Once the hospice nurse and Parrish Funeral Home left, we all sort of stood around in stunned silence. It was over. Dad was gone. Everything we had done, Mom, grandma, hospice and me, was complete. It felt like a dream and it happened so fast, even though it was 4 months.
After staying for a while with mom and the family, Mike drove me back home to eat lunch and get some clothing. We had hotdogs because it was quick. They were terrible, and I shouldn’t have eaten anything to begin with. After I changed my clothes I drove myself back to moms. On my way there everything hit me, and I couldn’t quit crying. I just kept thinking I’d never see dad again. Never get to ask him for his advice, or if I had a mechanical problem he’d never be able to help me solve it. I’d never get to hang out with dad or go fishing with him. He left, but at least I didn’t feel like I was abandoned by him. He did prepare me for this. He was absolutely amazing through all of it.
Once back at moms I walked past the living room, I couldn’t bear to look in at the bed. I went straight to the bathroom, closed and locked the door and proceeded to cry. After I did that for a while, I got myself together and went into the office and just sat there in the recliner. I had hoped everyone would leave me alone. My mom came in and checked on me. She saw that I was upset and she placed her hand on my leg, and I remember I wanted to scream and recoil because the mere touch of her hand on my skin felt like hot embers. I don’t like to be comforted, I don’t why, I just don’t. I got up and sat in front of the computer monitor and pretended to surf the net. I just sat there and stared through my tears hoping they’d go away. My older sister came in and sat down, and she started talking about dad. I told her I didn’t want to talk about dad anymore. She was fine with that. I just needed to get myself together and I couldn’t if things kept being so open and raw. Finally after a few minutes it hit me and I announced we were going to dismantle the hospice bed and drag it out the front door and put it under the carport. With some difficulty we did just that. The house sighed relief. We put the living room back together the way it use to be and it felt good.
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