Dying is an ending — and a beginning.
It is with a heavy heart that I share that my dad, Gerry, took his last breath in the wee hours of August 12 2022.
I would love to tell you that I was holding his hand when he went but that wasn’t the case for us. After multiple nights, sleeping on the Murphy bed beside him, holding his hand through the night and dozing on and off, I had gone home to sleep in my bed, needing a good night’s sleep, knowing that Dad was comfortable and believing that he would wait for me when it was his time to go if he wanted me there.
It was a long vigil for us. After several weeks in hospital, Dad entered hospice on a Tuesday and died a full 10 days later. He went a week without food or drink. For several days before his passing, his breathing would stop for 30 seconds at a time before finally starting back up again. We knew he was close. We just couldn’t tell how close.
On our last night on earth together, I sat by Dad’s bed, holding his hand, and poured my heart out to him. I shared my thoughts and my hopes and dreams for the future. I told him that I needed him to be the wind at my back and my “partner in crime” as I continue forward on the rest of this life’s journey on my own. I told him that nothing could really separate us and that he would always be in my heart and close by in spirit.
Every once in a while it hits me that Dad is gone from this physical world — that I won’t hold his hand, hug him, or kiss his cheek again. That he won’t answer “With my hands” to the question “How are you feeling?” or tell someone to “Keep their stick on the ice” or “Git ‘er done”. Or randomly say “It’s a bad day when you don’t learn something” to some new fact he had learned.
I will be forever grateful that the universe conspired to give us a year of “lasts”:
❤️ One last Christmas
❤️ One last trip to Mexico
❤️ One last birthday (mine, his and Carrie’s)
❤️ One last Father’s Day
We had one full year from terminal diagnosis to broken hip. And we went into every special occasion knowing that it might be our last.
Now Carrie and I start on our year of “firsts”… our first of everything without him. I am told that the first year is the hardest. The year of lasts, while a gift, was a pretty painful one, so only time will tell what will be true for us.
With Dad’s passing comes a new beginning for me. Through our last months together, I had to put a lot of my life on hold in order to help him finish his #endoflifejourney well. I have some places to go, people to see, and things to do that are long overdue.
For everyone who has commented, sent a message and / or found resonance in our end of life story, I thank you and send love and light from our corner of the world to yours.
And I leave you with one thought:
❓What would you do with a loved one if you knew that they only had one year left to live?
Now please go and do that with them while you still can.
Gerry’s orders. ❤️
#caregiverlife #endoflife #hospice #love #theend