It wasn’t a phone call I was hoping for. In fact, I thought my sister wanted to talk about problems with her move. She and her husband decided a few months ago to sell their home on the prairies and move closer to our parents to help dad look after mom, and cook for them once in a while.
My mom has been declining over the past several years, and now is unable to do most things except the basics of getting dressed, and doing dishes. She still knows who we are and can carry on a short conversation, then will repeat the question she has over and over and over. That was starting to wear on dad, and fortunately he was able to spend a week in September visiting me and relaxing, enjoying meals out and some sight-seeing.
Before the Pandemic, we would travel somewhere together each summer. That all began the year he turned 74 when we traveled to Ireland for a 3-week ”Pub and Music” tour. He had a great time visiting the home country of his father, enjoying scenery that he had only seen in encyclopedias and online. One of his grand-daughters joined us for a few days as we took in Belfast, Antrim County (my grand-father’s hometown) and the Giant’s Causeway. That trip took dad and I all around Ireland. He seemed happiest to be able to look at the magnificent scenery, including the cliffs of Moher. Tasting the whiskeys, the beer, eating potatoes, stopping for a quick lunch which consisted of a glass of Guinness at a tiny pub, eating fries on mashed potatoes, drinking beer again in the evening. Dad spent months planning this trip, and continued each year to dream and plan yet another trip.
We have taken the Alaska Cruise twice, Baltic Capitals cruise, a cruise from Montreal to Boston, and traveled to Thailand and Germany to visit family.
The call last Sunday was to let me know that he had suffered a stroke, but was talking and scheming again. We talked on the phone on Tuesday, enjoying a laugh. He said they (hospital staff) were doing their best to help him, even though he was still in a hallway waiting for a bed. By Wednesday morning the doctor suggested I not wait the week, but come as soon as I could. Now it’s the second Tuesday. When we left him last night, the pain medication was allowing him to rest peacefully. Sunday morning he had rallied, ate all his breakfast, talked and joked with us. He talked on the phone to family; my mother was brought in to see him. By Sunday evening he was unable to communicate again, except in short bursts. Each morning we don’t know what to expect when we arrive for visiting hours. They are moving him today to the Hospice House so we can be with him 24 hours a day.
And now we cling on to all the wonderful memories of a life well-lived, and devoted to serving and helping others. As he lives out his last hours and maybe days, we want him to not have to endure more pain and discomfort. We hope that the decisions made along with the doctors are the right ones. Moving from life-prolonging care to comfort care was the first decision. To help him leave this world in peace, rather than in agony and constant struggle is important. The memories that I want to hang on to are those of the father that we knew when growing up, the loving husband, the grandfather. When my nephews each reached a certain age, he would take them on a trip somewhere fun and interesting. Each of my 4 nephews will have that lasting memory of him. When my kids were young we moved closer to mom and dad, and dad became like a father to them — attending sports games regularly, high-school graduations, weddings. For the past many years he has eaten regularly at the restaurant where my son worked and owned. Dad is a huge fan of all 8 of his grandchildren!
Reflections 