“At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done. We will be judged by “I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless, and you took me in.” ~ Mother Teresa

I arrived at midnight to do my shift while my brother and Mom went upstairs to sleep. It was officially Mother’s Day and I looked over at Dad and felt a great sadness wave over me. The nurse read a book in the corner and quietly said to me,

‘It won’t be long now, maybe another 8 hours, but he is failing quickly.’

‘Thanks’, I said. What else could I say? You’re wrong; he’s going to pull out of this one? This was all a bad dream? No, I couldn’t say any of that, as I knew, we had lost the battle and war. The noise of the oxygen machine raged on in the background mixed in with a rattle coming from Dad. I got up and held Dad’s hand, while tears softly ran down my cheeks. I tried to be strong, but I thought, there are so many things I want to say to Dad. I was angry and felt cheated that I would not get to know Dad as a person. He was an amazing Dad, but we had not reached the point in our relationship where we saw one another as equals. I was Daddy’s little girl, but I would never be Ray’s friend.

Time was a contradiction. The hours that passed were never enough. I believed that we could live like this forever, because we still had him here. I was dreading ‘letting go’, and not sure any of us could surrender Dad to wherever he was headed.

The sun came up and both Mom and my brother slowly descended the stairs to take over the next shift. Mom dressed in her housecoat, looked at me with a ‘little girl lost’ look on her face. I wished I could make it all better for her, but knew that we all were going through our own heartbreak and none of us could say anything to one another to change the fact that Dad was almost gone.

‘How is he?’ Mom asked carefully.

I looked over at the nurse looking for some sort of reassurance and said,

‘He’s getting worse, the nurse doesn’t think it will be long’.

A gasp escaped Mom’s inner body. I knew deep down inside that Mom was not ready for losing her soul mate. I knew the plans both Mom and Dad made for retirement were now crushed.

‘Should we call the Priest today?’ she quietly asked.

‘I think that’s a good idea’, I said, knowing that the Priest could not do anything; in fact, God had definitely forgotten this little family.

I rose from a chair in the room and told Mom I would be back in a few hours. She didn’t seem to hear me when I said,

‘I’ll be back soon’. Nothing, there was no acknowledgement from her as she walked around in circles in the kitchen.

‘Mom?’ I said as I walked into the kitchen to meet her.

‘Where is the phone number for the church? Do you know where your father may have put it?’

Oh no, the ‘Mother’s Day’ card I purchased to have Dad sign was in one of the drawers where she was headed looking for the phone number.

‘Mom’, I said, ‘I’ll get you the number, you go sit down now with Dad’.

‘But I need the number now’, she said as she began ransacking through each drawer.

I quickly walked towards her, took her by the hands, and said, ‘Mom, it’s okay, I’ll find it, you go sit down with Dad’.

She broke. She began to sob in my arms. No words were spoken as my brother grabbed a few Kleenex and handed them to Mom.

Once she wiped her tears, she straightened up, and walked slowly into the living room to sit next to Dad and held his hand.

I looked over at my brother and although we always knew that Mom’s entire world would crash, it was very difficult and heartbreaking to see her cave.

I was about to grab the Mother’s Day card when I became distracted looking for the Priest’s phone number.

‘Found it’, I said as I handed it to Mom. ‘You want me to call?’

‘No, I’ll call a little later’ Mom said to me quietly without taking her eyes off Dad.

I took my car keys and left home to have a shower, maybe a quick nap, and do it all over again.

The mind’s dark corridor – part II

 

Photo courtesy of: Olivia Henn

I held the ‘Mother’s Day’ card and pen in my hand, slowly sat down on the edge of the bed next to Dad, put my hand on his arm, caressing gently and said,

‘Dad, wake-up, I need you to sign this card for Mom for Mother’s Day. It’s tomorrow and I know Mom would love you to sign it for her’.

Nothing, not one eye opened, only the sound of Dad’s labored breathing. I tried again almost begging, ‘Dad, please wake up, I need you to sign this card for Mom’. Still, Dad did not make any movements. I broke down. I tried everything I could, mentioning Mom, begging, and now crying, but nothing woke him up. I looked up to see my brother and nurse leaving the room. I realized now that we were at the point of no return, the inevitable finality hit me like a whack in the head and a knife in the heart. Dad was dying and there was nothing any of us could do. The bargaining with Dad’s so-called God, the ‘never give up speech’, the anger, the fear, the complete and utter sadness; we felt it all, and our lives as we had known it, was forever transformed.

I took the card and put it away in a kitchen drawer. I realized I had almost become hysterical with grief. I had to leave, if only because I didn’t want Mom to see me like this, as she needed both my brother and I to be strong, in fact, Dad needed us to be strong.

I told my brother I would be back in a few hours, but needed to go home… to what? I needed to go home to escape, I needed to go home to cry, and I needed to go home to be with my kitten to cuddle, but more realistically, I needed to go home to… ‘Get hold of myself’ and muster the strength to continue on.

I arrived at my apartment and broke down. Buggs seemed to sense something was wrong and sat on my lap. This was not the Buggs I knew. He was the type of cat who never cuddled, would sleep alone in his cat bed, whack at shadows on the wall during the night, and swing from the drapes, this was not the same cat I was petting now, was it? I turned on the TV, laid down on the couch, put a blanket over myself and then the most bizarre thing happened; Buggs tunneled under the blanket and curled up in my arms. I thought I had saved him from the Humane Society, but in fact, it was him who saved me.

I woke up to the phone ringing. Oh no, I thought. Please don’t let it be Mom calling to say Dad died!

It was Mom; she called let me know that everything was still the same, and she didn’t see any need for me to be there anytime soon. I, of course, said No, I would be back over at midnight to take the next shift. There was no more fight left in Mom, so she agreed; the truth of the matter was there was no more fight left in any of us anymore.

A couple of hours passed; I slowly rose up from the couch, grabbed my keys, and left to go ‘home’.

The mind’s dark corridor…

Photo courtesy of: Olivia Henn

 

The final days of Dad’s life were spent by Mom, my brother and I taking turns keeping him company. In the meantime, his physician arrived one morning to check on Dad’s vitals and give us the number to the Coroner’s office. What, Coroner’s office? We had no idea that this would be something we would need to know. Dad’s physician also added we should make his funeral arrangements now so that we could have more time to grieve. All three of us looked at each other and agreed that none of us could leave the house while Dad was semi-comatose. Collectively, we decided to call the funeral home and let them know the situation, which they completely understood. Once the Coroner pronounced Dad, we were to call their office and they would send out their team out to pick up Dad. So this was how it was to be? I kept thinking; 63 years old, inevitable death, coroner, funeral arrangements, we weren’t ready to let him go yet. I realized that although Dad was dying, we had developed a daily routine that no one understood. Each day Dad would worsen, but we handled it and became used to his presence and understood every one of his nuances. His skipped breath, the noise of the oxygen machine, the closed then opened eyes, the look of his hands, no we were not ready for any of this or to let him go.

In addition, I was running back and forth to my apartment to make sure my new kitten Buggs was fed and had some company for a short while. I hated leaving my parent’s house as I kept thinking, ‘What if Dad dies when I’m not there’? So, my trips to the apartment were quick and quiet.

I also do not remember if any of us ate food during this time. My weight plummeted, as did Mom’s. Our sleep was minimal as we didn’t want Dad to be alone, and although we tried to complete daily tasks, nothing was ever finished. The television set was on 24/7, due to the sound of the oxygen machine; this eventually became non-existent, as somehow our auditory perception had become altered.

The time was creeping closer to Mother’s Day. I had hoped that Dad would not die on this day, for Mom’s sake. Every year for as long as I could remember Dad would present Mom with flowers, a card, and lovely dinner for Mother’s day. I decided during one of my trips back to the apartment, that I would head out to purchase a card for him to sign. Why? I have no idea, but I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. Somehow I could not let Mom know that Dad had forgotten this day. Was I hoping, that by some miracle, he would sit up and be cured? Miracles do happen, but in my heart I knew there would be no miracle for our little family.

I arrived at the house with card in hand. My brother met me at the door to let me know that Mom had walked upstairs to her bedroom to take a well-needed nap. This was my chance to try to wake Dad to have him sign the card, I thought. My brother looked at me when I told him I had to get Dad to sign the card.

‘Paula, he hasn’t woken up in hours, I don’t think he will sign the card’, my brother said looking down at the floor sympathetically.

‘He has to sign it’, I said, ‘tomorrow’s Mother’s Day’, I said with tears in my eyes.

My brother just shook his head and walked away.

If it took everything I had, I would make him sign the card, I thought. Dad had not given up, I had not given up, why was everyone else giving up? No, this was going to happen! Dad wasn’t out for the count yet, his eyes still fluttered at times. He wasn’t gone and he raised me to never give up, to keep trying, even if the odds were against me, he had to know that I hadn’t given up! This WAS going to happen, wasn’t it?