« round eye | main | eulogy »
January 21, 2007
my father
my father is dying, his heart is failing. I remember when his father was dying. I was in grade school. my grandfather smoked pall mall. we visited him in the hospital. there were cartons of cigarettes under his bed.
there are no cigarettes under my father's bed, there's nothing there at all. my father is still alive because he is breathing. in and out. my sister says there are scabs in his mouth now.
i went to see him. i thought i might be able to get a word from him for my two sisters, something for each of them. i took a pen and paper. my daughter went with me. we drove all day and found the hospital after dark. we went in and around and up and around to his room. a nurse let us in.
he was lying on a hospital bed, his robe was open, he had tubes in every opening in his body. his eyes were closed. i tried to block my daughters view while i covered him up. his mouth was open and he was breathing. i said, 'dad, it's me, can you open your eyes?' he was breathing with his mouth open. he needed a shave. i took his hand in mine. i squeezed it. he grasped my hand in his, and moved his other hand to hold mine. he moved his leg off the bed, he wanted to get up. i put his leg back on the bed and i said, 'don't get up. can you open your eyes?' he kept breathing. he tried to get up again. the nurse said, 'it's best to be quiet, he'll stay calm.'
he wanted to find a way out, to get away from the path in front of him. he was strapped into the bed with a harness. he kept his eyes closed.
i kissed him. his forehead was smooth. 'peace, old man.'
i let go of his hand and turned to leave. the nurse said, 'aren't you going to stay with him any longer?'
i said, 'he's not going to change, is he? he's not coming out of this?' she said, 'no.'
i said, 'if he needs a kidney, i'll give it. but there's nothing anyone can do.' she said, 'that's right.'
my daughter and i found our way out and back to my car. i told her, 'no one is born alone, but we all die alone.'
i didn't need the pen, didn't need the paper. there was nothing there for me to get for my sisters, nothing there anymore, for anyone.
my father is dying, but i am not. not yet.
posted by matthew at 10:49 PM
Sorry to hear about your dad but you're wrong, he's not alone.
You held his hand and he held yours. You kissed him. You are with him and he is with you. Always.
... and he wasn't trying to get up to get away from the path in front of him, he was trying to get up to make you believe he was ok and show you that you don't need to worry.
He will be at peace soon. The hard part is finding peace for yourself after he has found his.
My thoughts are with you Matt.
posted by: Derek on January 22, 2007 05:16 AM
if I were the real dalai lama, I would tell you that he would reincarnate some time after his passing, become another human, or perhaps an animal, continue to work on these small things. But I'm not and I don't know what happens next, though I have ideas which are surely wrong. But one thing I do know, and that is that we live alone, too, every moment when we think we are surrounded we are only covered by our ideas of what it is that is around us, not the realness of it. And so it goes. Some days I think that's backwards, and what is real is that we are never alone, not even in death, we stand with every grain of sand, the sentient pieces and the static. I don't know.
posted by: dalai lama on January 23, 2007 09:39 PM
Sigh. It is hard to take positive things away from such a dark situation, but the fact that we are still alive is a good one.
I'm sending you an internet hug - *HUG*.
posted by: charlsie on January 24, 2007 01:05 PM
Sometimes you can choose not to be alone. That takes some work. Sometimes you don't have the choice.
posted by: k on January 26, 2007 09:31 AM
Mat sorry for your loss...my brothers and sister watched my dad die 3 years ago over a 2 month period. when it was immenant i wrote him a letter telling him that he lives on in his children. That not just his genes survive but his influence, his personality, his manerisms are alive in each one of his children. I proceeded to identify the unique characteristics of each sibling that were a direct influence by him...mainly their vocations and special interests. He is living in 5 children, 10 grand children and one granddaugter. Let alone the thousands of people he touched over his 81 years. When he turned for the worse and could no longer speak, the youngest child and I arrived from two seperate cities at his bed side, he pulled his 45 year old baby on top of him to hug goodbuy. We took him home to his bedroom and 5 days later we were all gathered around his bed and watched him breathe his last breath. He had waited until we were all there.
posted by: michael on February 7, 2007 11:16 AM