As we were directed down the hallway to my father’s new room, memories from 2010 started resurfacing. The nurses had just finished settling dad into his room which happened to be directly across the hall from Michael’s when he spent his final 3 weeks here almost 12 years ago. The first nurse who came to speak to me on Wednesday was Michael’s favourite nurse! She is so kind and reassuring, and I remember from 2010 that she always seem to appear at just the time she was needed. She cares deeply for each of her patients, but her real gift is in caring for the grieving families.
My sister, my son and I are making sure someone is with dad 24 hours a day, so he doesn’t wake up confused or alone. His waking moments are few and far between, although last night he was awake enough to say a few words on the phone to my brother, and watch about 10 minutes of a hockey game on TV.
Time seems to stand still this week. My day is spent almost entirely at my father’s bedside, except for short breaks for a coffee, or shower in the mornings. Knowing what to do when someone is so close to dying is tough. Do I stay here? Do I go home and risk having to turn around and come back. My car sits at the airport; my students are in limbo not knowing when their next lesson will happen, while still trying to prepare for the recital next weekend; the conductor I work with has to lead and accompany choir rehearsals until I return home. But, I can’t leave and go back home like nothing is happening.
My dad has been the glue that holds my family together. He loves and has cared for my mom for over 63 years, and has been especially patient with her since my brother died 33 years ago, and even more in the past 20 months while needing to stay home and take over all the responsibilities during the pandemic. Unfortunately, mom’s dementia has made his time ”stuck” at home so much more challenging.
Ever since his retirement at the age of 57, my dad has spent 5 to 7 days a week volunteering for both the Canadian Cancer Society and Scouts Canada. He has devoted his life to his family, and in service to the community. Dad has been an inspiration to people all around him, and a superb role model for us and our children. His grandchildren adore him and look up to him. His friends and colleagues admire his work ethic, wisdom and compassion for others.
What he is going through now is not fair, but then again, life isn’t always fair. When my brother was dying, my brother would play, then later listen to Billy Joel’s ”Only the Good die young”. Somehow that was comforting. Dad is no longer young at 90 years of age, but he was certainly good!
It’s early in the morning. I was awaken with dad’s call ”help me, help me”. I sat with him for a while, and now am listening to him breathe. The nurse said it is his final moments or hours. He is weak. His breathing is taking on a new, slow, relaxed rhythm with long pauses between.
Dad has lived a good life. He lived to help others. He lived selflessly, with understanding and compassion. He gave us good memories. There were the many, many hikes and camping trips; the 6-week summer trip across Canada and our many cruises and holidays together when mom no longer wanted to travel. He never stopped being curious about new things and new technologies. He was constantly interested in what his children and grandchildren were up to, and very supportive of each one of them.
In these quiet early moments on a Sunday morning at the Hospice House I feel at peace knowing that dad has received the best compassionate care possible. He will soon be at peace, without the pain and exhaustion of the past many months.
Reflections 