Windshield Time (drafted 11/18/11; don't know why I didn't post it)

Well, it's been another interesting turn of events. As I sit here alone at home after another week of being on the road, and on my birthday, I felt it was time to post here. A LOT has happened since my last post (as usual), and I am still processing it all. And the long stretches of driving this week (aka "Windshield Time") have coalesced some things in my mind.

First and foremost, Dad did not last the year as he had hoped/expected. In the middle of September, his complaints of not having any energy and sleeping all the time accelerated. This ultimately led to a week-long hospitalization - a time during which it became apparent that there were no more interventions available to help Dad live well. We had many conversations about his wishes and, as that week transpired, it became clear that there was only one decision to be made.

So, on Friday, September 23, Dad had his final dialysis treatment and was returned to the his assisted living facility. We knew that my brother would be coming to town the following Monday, and the thought was that he would be able to come and spend time with Dad before his body finally shut down.

Over the weekend, hospice aided in keeping Dad comfortable. I fed him several meals and we had a few minutes of lucid conversation during that time. I reminded Dad that Bro was coming, and he seemed comforted by that.

Monday came, and Dad was mostly unresponsive. Bro arrived about 4:30 PM, and Dad and he had some good time together. After his alone time with Dad, we (Bro, me, hospice, and the floor manager) convened in at the foot of Dad's bed and were discussing options for Bro staying with Dad. The hospice nurse interceded and said we needed to pay attention to Dad. With Bro on one side, and me on the other, we watched Dad take his last breath and quietly pass.

It was weird. I have heard stories of folks who have said that a loved one waited for someone to arrive before "letting go". I have no doubt of that now.

luv ya dad!! (written 10/20/11; somehow not posted)

A fortnight after my last post, dad passed quietly in his sleep. Perhaps that's a misnomer - he passed quietly knowing that my brother and I were both there with him, each of us holding one of his hands.

That aspect of his death has been intriguing to me. I have heard told of those close-to-death waiting for someone to arrive before letting go. As a Type-A, I have been skeptical of such claims. No longer. Dad passed on a Monday; we asked for dialysis to be performed one last time on Friday in the hopes that my Bro would make it into town one last time to say goodbye.

So, Dad received dialysis Friday and was transferred back to his apartment on Friday afternoon. Most of Saturday is a loss, though I am lucky enough to feed Dad a small portion of one of his favorite meals - mac and cheese.

Sunday is a total loss in terms of getting Dad to eat anything. He sipped some water and ate some odds-and-ends, but most of the day he is unresponsive - at least to any type of existence we are experiencing together. At one point, he is barking orders, and I ask if he's practicing with his artillery battery. Tersely, he responds, "Yes". A few more barked orders, and a softening of his features follows. I ask - "Did you get the target?". His expression broadens to a smile - "Yep, we sure did."

Monday comes, and Dad is mostly unresponsive. Several times, I remind Dad that my Bro is expected to arrive in the afternoon. Dad hangs on gamely. Bro arrives about 4:30, and spends some private time with Dad. After that, he and the Floor Manager and I are at the foot of Dad's bed talking about options for the evening. Keep in mind, that just an hour or so earlier, one of Dad's nurses has estimated that Dad will be OK for another 24-48 hours.

By 5:30, Bro, and Floor Manager, and I are at the foot of Dad's bed chatting, and the Hospice nurse interuppts us saying - "the time is soon".

Bro and I broke off conversation, each of us taking one of Dad's hands. Two breaths later, he stopped breathing. I checked his pulse, and he was gone.

So, do the dying wait for those most special to them wait for them to be at their bedside to finally relent? I was skeptical. I am no longer. And I am blessed.

Luv you Dad. And Mom. Your sunset tonight was spectacular. I expect I will always recognize you in the sunsets.

Legacy

There was a time, some years ago, when I came to hate this word.  Loathe it.  Despise it like no other word in the English language.

You see, I was on the "purchased" end of a corporate acquisition, and the term "legacy" was used to describe which company you came from - we'll call them Legacy X for the acquiring company, and Legacy Y for the us, the acquired.

Whenever (almost) everybody from Legacy X found out that you were a Legacy Y employee, you could hear the disdain creep into their voice and see a corner of their mouth curl into a sneer.  We were the vanquished, and we were to be kept in our place both literally and figuratively.  I got so tired of it that, when asked, I would respond - "I am a Company X employee, as are you.  Does it really matter where we come from - we work for the same company now, don't we?"

But, as I realized earlier this week, I had held onto that hatred of that word even though it had been used in an entirely different, and entirely more pleasantly meaningful context, since then.  As it turns out, I had let it negatively affect a part of my life that it shouldn't have, and have since not realized or appreciated its effect on me.

You see, over the past several years prior to my Dad's death, he had used that term to describe both me, but more directly, my son - the only direct descendant of his now, and likely ever.  While I knew what he meant and appreciated it at some level, I always kind of mentally cringed when I heard him use the word because of the prior experience.  I secretly wished he would change and use a different term, but he never did and I never made an issue of it.

For whatever reason and using whatever stream-of-consciousness method I used to get there, in the shower one morning this week, I came to fully realize what he was saying, to let go of the hatred of the word, and begin to think through and understand - really consider and understand - the implications.

Mom and her sister had a total of 4 boys.  Of those, only my wife and I had a child to carry on any bit of that side of the family.  While my brother could theoretically still have a child, from a realistic perspective I put that chance at 0.  So on that side of the family, he truly is the legacy.

Dad had one sister who was 17 years his senior, and they were never close - and there are other mitigating factors, which will not be discussed at this time.  She had a son (who died fairly young due to a medical condition) and a daughter, who has two sons of her own.  While we have maintained contact, we have never been very close.  And Dad never viewed them as much as family as others in his life.

So Sparky really is a "Legacy" for our family - on many levels.  Unexpectedly, I have come to consider and accept that fact in ways I didn't expect.

Peeling the onion some more.  How long will this take??  (Have I said that I can be a very impatient person sometimes??????)