instantsteve
Glowing Cloud
The night before his 95th birthday, my father was feeling sick and had trouble breathing. He called my brother (50 miles away) and my brother called me (770 miles away) and then pushed the life alert button at midnight. He spent 4 days in the hospital and was released about June 5th. My brother moved in with him after a few days. He seemed to be bouncing back, but then his appetite tailed off drastically. He had got a bedsore in the hospital, which made him very uncomfortable. He ate less and less. I got out there unconscionably late (July 2) but he met me at the door, using his walker. I knew on one hand that it would be my last visit with him, but had this delusion that I would stay to see him stable, and then come back again. He declined rapidly. We got Home Hospice on board on the 4th of July. He wouldn't eat. We did things to try to get him more comfortable, to his stubborn resistance as he got weaker and weaker. I knew that I was going to be staying until the end. My brother Pete did the heavy lifting, literally and figuratively. I was there to help as I could. Our uncle Marty (mom's younger brother and a retired rheumatologist) arrived on the 7th of July. Dad no longer recognized me or Marty. When he wanted something he would call Pete, which made perfect sense the way Pete had been there for him. The last words I heard him say was "Peter, I love you" on the 8th. He died with the three of us sitting with him at 3
5 pm on July 9th. 5 weeks prior to that, he had still been driving.
Dying is not dignified. My feelings are complicated and no where near worked out, which is no surprise. I was not happy to be there, but glad to be. I wanted to be there for Pete. I got a chance to tell dad that I loved him while I still could. I am grateful for that. I was able to help Pete with a battle he could not win, and tell him he was doing great. I was with him at the funeral, with what little is left of my side of the family. I'm calling Pete every day, and he is doing better. I am kind of waiting for it to crash in on me.
David Lifson, June 3, 1922 to July 9, 2017. My complicated, honest, maddening father. Rest in peace.
5 pm on July 9th. 5 weeks prior to that, he had still been driving.Dying is not dignified. My feelings are complicated and no where near worked out, which is no surprise. I was not happy to be there, but glad to be. I wanted to be there for Pete. I got a chance to tell dad that I loved him while I still could. I am grateful for that. I was able to help Pete with a battle he could not win, and tell him he was doing great. I was with him at the funeral, with what little is left of my side of the family. I'm calling Pete every day, and he is doing better. I am kind of waiting for it to crash in on me.
David Lifson, June 3, 1922 to July 9, 2017. My complicated, honest, maddening father. Rest in peace.
