"Dad's Hands"

Sunday, March 4th

I miss you, Dad. I miss your strong warm hands. Your hand squeeze gave me so much comfort and reassurance. As the trembling in your hands grew worse, the comfort your hands brought grew only more potent. Even after your second and final seizure when your eyes had swollen shut and each breath was labored you still squeezed my hand when I placed mine inside yours. You still carried me while angels waited to carry you.

We placed your bed in the sun room where you loved to sit and watch the wild birds come to eat and rest in the oasis you made for them. Here we hovered near you trying to be helpful and to comfort each other. I remember praying and trying to keep your lips moist with water as you were only breathing through your mouth now. Most of all, though I remember again and again slipping my hand into yours for comfort. And even then as you were less and less with us and were closer and closer to God, you still squeezed my hand. Thank you Dad for helping me through your death.

You picked the perfect night for our vigil. Thick snow blanketed the world outside bringing stillness and quiet. Then the snow stopped for a couple of hours around one in the morning. A beautiful scene developed outside of the sliding glass doors near your bed.The moon was bright overhead as it lit up the whole backyard. Your wild birds came out for a mid-storm snack. Some hovered at the feeders, others hopped about on the new-fallen snow looking for dropped seeds. I went from your bedside to the window and then back again wondering if I should try to get a few hours sleep or if I should stay by your bedside. I looked outside again and saw a small bunny hopping nimbly across the snow along the edge of the treeline. It stopped by a slender sapling poking out of the snow and stayed there for a long while. I think it was having breakfast there.

I felt as though you had sent this happy peaceful scene to let me know that everything was alright. I could imagine your concerned voice advising me to go to bed even as you were engaged in the incredibly intense fight to exit your physical body and return in spirit to God. I wished later that I had never left your side that night. I wish I'd known what a small amount of time you had left. Then though, I had only felt a strong sense of peace and calmness and I left you laying there in your struggle to get in bed with my husband and baby. You were always so worried about our needs, so so much more than your own.

Thank you Dad, for leading us through your illness and your death. Thank you for having found acceptance and peace yourself. Thank you for your humor, your patience, and your determination to live every last minute . Thank you for the many times you pushed through the pain and fatigue so that you could spend time with us. Thank you for sharing every last bit of yourself that you could before you had to go.

We arose the morning of your death to Joyce's fresh coffee and to gentle happy music playing. She had awoken from a short sleep. She must have felt you needing her. We didn't know it but we didn't have much time left with you . Joyce had already called Dr. Plumb by the time we got up. He was going to come over as your breathing had changed and sounded worse to us. Jake was going to brave the unplowed roads from Cincinnati first thing in the morning and Jeremy had just called as he had finally been able to get a flight from Germany despite all the shut down airway traffic. He would be home soon too.

We stood beside the bed, worrying about your breathing, Joyce still with the phone in her hand from talking to Jeremy, when you let out one long last sigh and then you breathed no more.

We looked at each other, stunned, I think, and then relieved. No more suffering, Dad. No more pain. No more struggling to leave behind the body that was failing. Well done, Dad. I am so, so proud of you. And thank you for always thinking of us, for trying to prepare us and as always, thank you for holding my hand the whole way through. Thank you for teaching us how to live, how to live with illness, and how to die with love and peace.

Dad, thank you also for including me in the circle of friends and family who did all they could to help you out. My ability seemed mostly just to be visiting with you Dad, (me, Jesse, and Todd). Thank you for letting me do this in your last hours, Dad. It was an honor and a privilege that I will be forever grateful for. With lots of love, Dad,

Peace out,
Joy