Departure

I fell into a dream in my chair in the afternoon. I was so tired and the blanket was so warm, with the dog on my lap. I closed my eyes and found myself in a two story house. I went into a room on the top floor and saw a bed in the corner with a lot of rumpled covers on it. I turned left to go into the adjoining bathroom, and saw that there was a mess on the floor. There was pee all over the place. I made a remark aloud, only to realize that Jo was sleeping in the bed, amidst the rumpled covers. I'm not sure exactly what happened next, I just knew that she was on the floor and needed help up. I called out for help and to my great surprise, Joyce's father came walking through the door! Only not as I had last seen him, elderly and frail, and fragile. He was strong and capable and handsome. His hair was white, just as I had known him, but his face and body were that of a younger man. He came and picked her up and took care of her. He was her caretaker. 

Back downstairs after Jo had been rescued, and towards the end of the dream before I was awakened by something or another, I pondered on the thought that I knew he was only there taking care of her in the absence of my father. I remember being so comforted that he was there, and yet poignantly sad that my own father was not. 

And then I awoke. 

The dream was very powerful, evoking emotions of an absent father who, in reality, hadn't left yet,  and a found father who had, in reality, been gone for many years. Profound. 

Later that evening the hospice nurse called me. Dad had fallen again. He wasn't hurt, but was hurting. He was requesting pain medication for the first time. Not Tylenol. The real stuff. 

The hospice nurse said he would not be allowed to be without 24 hour care from now on. And he would be getting the medications around the clock from now on. And she mentioned that the hired caretaker, was overwhelmed this evening, because not only had dad fallen, but Joyce had peed all over the bathroom floor. 

I was a little bit stunned by all of this as I hung up the phone, but especially after that dream. The pee, the caretaker, the falling. So much coincidence. 

That night I fell into a second dream. It was very simple. I was on my way to Dad's house to take care of him until he died. But not just him, I would be taking care of my grandmother and my uncle, who were in reality, long dead. I don't know what the significance of my grandmother and uncle was, I never did figure that out. But I pondered on that for awhile. 

The next morning, on my way out the back door, at 7 AM, I saw a text, a new one from the hospice nurse. Dad is in a ten out of ten amount of pain. He is in bed. He won't be getting back up. 

I sat in the car with the Mr. and we discussed all of this, as the sun rose. 

And I knew what I was going to do. I'm going to Dad's. I'm going to stay there until he passes. I will be his caregiver. The Mr. was opposed, at first, to this idea. He would be alone for as long as it would take for Dad to go. Since I am his caretaker, post liver transplant, this was of great concern to both of us. My husband needs a wife and a caretaker. I took this into account, weighed my options and made the final decision. I would go. 

So I came in the house and refilled his pills for the week, cleaned up my room, packed my bag and left one house for another. Traded one caretaker position for another. 

I prayed as I went that things would be mercifully short. And most of all that he wouldn't suffer. 

I arrived and came in the house. Joyce was in her chair. Daddy was in his bedroom, asleep. I could hear him snoring. In fact, although his loud snoring had always been an issue, I was thankful for it now, because I could hear him in the living room, even over all the talking. It wasn't an annoying sound, just a calm background noise, letting us know he was still with us.  

To my surprise, I found out my sister would soon be there. I wasn't sure how I felt about this, not because I didn't want her there, I just began to wonder why I was there. Surely we didn't both need to be there. However, I had driven a long way to be there, and she would only be there for the weekend. So I settled in. We visited. We talked. I went to the store. She went to the store. I cooked dinner, which no one ate but me. My other sister, Sher, stopped by and visited for awhile. We talked, every so often lowering our voices to listen for the snoring. As my dad has sleep apnea, this led to some anxious moments. But he always resumed breathing and so would we. 

Every so often we would give go in and give the sedating meds to Dad. 

The first time I had come in the room he had awakened slightly, just enough to catch my eye and give me a sideways wide eyed wink, with a tiny bit of a smile and a little head cock. 

After that he slept. Every so often we would go in an check on him. He still slept. I wondered how long I would be there. As I had left my house I had told my husband it could be a couple of weeks. He had been somewhat dismayed at being so long without me. I am not puffing myself up, he was really disconcerted. My daughter was disconcerted as well, as she would be his caretaker while I was gone. I put my arm around her and gave her a little hug. Look, I'm taking care of my daddy, and you are taking care of YOUR daddy. We are doing God's work. 

And so we were. 

My Aunt Jo Ann and Uncle Walter and cousin Robbie came to see him. Joyce had called Aunt Joann and told her what was going on early in the morning, while the hospice nurse was still there. Aunt Jo Ann decided she was coming today, even if she had to drive herself the couple of hours it would take to get here. She is 84 and my uncle is older, still. They don't drive anymore. That's how anxious she was. My cousin, who was actually at work, saw the angst her mother was in and took off work to drive her and my uncle to see my dad. She had actually called me. Do you think tomorrow would be better? I said, sure, I don't think he is going to die tonight. You never know she said. 

I asked Joyce whether they should come today or tomorrow. She gave it a quick thought and said today. And so they came. They stayed for a little over an hour and then had to go home before dark, and traffic. We shared some laughter and some tears, some stories. I waved and cried as they drove away and went inside. 

It got late. The Sher left and Sarah went to lay down in bed next to Daddy, to keep an eye on him and because there were no more beds. I had brought an air mattress. I inflated it and settled down, so tired I could barely keep my eyeballs open. I tossed and turned and then felt a touch on my shoulder and jumped out of my skin. It was Sarah. It was five AM. And Dad was gone. Had just left, in fact. 

I remembered later that Dad always got up at five AM in his healthy days, ready to start the day. 

Now he was starting a new day in a much better place. 

And so, just as I had prayed, his time of pain was mercifully short. 

And my first thought, after How do we tell mom, was I am SO glad Aunt Jo Ann came to visit yesterday, instead of today. 

Mercifully short. And pain free. And at peace. 

All answered prayers. 

I had wanted him to stay longer. I had wanted him to be healthy. I had wanted to see him well again, working in his woodshop, cooking eggs with onions for breakfast, or taking himself out for breakfast at the local restaurant on a Saturday morning, as he had done for years. 

But I put my wishes aside. There is a bigger hand at work here than my own. And deep inside I knew that God would take him at exactly the right time. So it was, that this morning,  at 5 AM, my dad, having arrived here on Christmas Day, 1944,  departed to have Saturday breakfast with Jesus.

What will I do without my Daddy? 

I will think of him often. I will have RC Cola in his honor. I will listen to Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, and Glenn Campbell when I play my music. I will think of him every time I shuffle a deck of cards, play monopoly, make a no bake cheesecake, mow the lawn, or see a dad flying a kite with his kids, or swinging a child at the park, or teaching how to ride a bike.  

I will remember him when I watch the old reruns on TV that I love so much, particularly Rockford. 

And I will look forward to seeing him soon.