I always knew the day would come when I would have to say goodbye to my dad. No matter how much I tried to prepare for this loss, it still hurts so bad. He was my daddy and I love him so very much. I always have. The last 10 years of his life he made remarkable changes to become closer to God, closer to his family, and he worked hard to become a kinder person.
In previous blogs, I have touched on the tumultuous childhood I had. I am not ready to go into depth about that part of my life yet, but I will say that my father was a person I feared. He enjoyed having fun in life, but he was driven by anger and addiction.
My dad was a survivor, however! He survived those addictions, lung cancer, prostate cancer, bladder cancer, heart attacks, strokes, skin cancers, and more. There were so many times we thought God was going to take him. This last illness was not one of those times.
Mom called me on the 18th of November to tell me dad was at the hospital emergency room getting some tests done. They were worried he had a bladder infection or maybe even bronchitis or pneumonia. After the doctors were unable to pinpoint anything, they decided to keep him as his health seemed to be declining and wanted to run further tests. Three days later, my brother called me and told me that I should come visit him if I wanted to, as his prognosis wasn’t looking good and there was a storm coming at the end of the week. I packed for two days and left to say goodbye to my dad.
My husband’s family was coming from both sides of the states for Thanksgiving. They had not all been together in over a decade. I was supposed to be the host, cooking for all of them. I had every intention to cook Thanksgiving dinner, but I couldn’t leave dad, and I definitely didn’t want to leave mom alone. I had already missed a couple days of work and was worried about missing more, especially so close to the holidays. My sister Amy sent me some money to cover my time off so I could just stay with mom and not have additional stress. That was very helpful.
We both stayed with dad, day and night. I slept in the recliner on one side of dad and mom had a bed that we put right next to dad’s so she could sleep by him and hold his hand. We would try to watch shows on tv, but we couldn’t. Every noise dad made we would tend to. There were nurses, doctors, therapists, and friends coming in to check in. Also, constant phone calls and texts throughout the day. Dad was able to FaceTime and talk with the family members that weren’t there when he was more alert.
The day before he passed, mom and I watched dad as his breathing became very shallow and irregular. On all the days before, he would have his most alert times between 5:30 pm and 8:00 pm, but this night he didn’t want to wake up. He would try to open his eyes and mumble he loved us after we had told him, but he seemed to be leaving us then. I turned on a soft version of “Three Little Birds” and Christian songs. Mom and I held his hands and we talked about how wonderful it was knowing so many angels were in the room with us. We talked about how he was going to see his mother for the first time since he was a teenager. We told him that if it was time for him to go, we understood and we would be okay. We told him how very proud we were of him and how he had been such a great father and husband. Mom thanked him for being so good to her and how happy she was that they were able to share the past ten years together as husband and wife again. We told him not to be afraid, that he was doing a great job, and everything was going to be okay! The room was so peaceful and calm. My brother came in and I let dad know that John was there. John in a normal straightforward way said “Hi dad, what’s going on?” At that point, dad turned and looked at him briefly. He started breathing normally, and seemed to be “back with us.” I was a little pissed. I didn’t want dad to leave us, but I was so sure he was, and I, in a roundabout way, just told him to go to the light! What the heck was he thinking about me now! Did that make him sad, did it make him think I wanted him to go? I left the room for a bit and tried to process what had just happened. When I came back to the room, John (who is a seasoned RN) assured me that dad was going to be around for a while longer. He wasn’t in his final hours.
John had brought in a cribbage board so we sat by dad and played a couple rounds with mom.
The next morning, dad had a new nurse. She had been doing hospice care for years and was very helpful letting us know we were doing the right things to help dad. She also reassured me that dad was not in his final hours. She thought he had days to weeks left. At that point, I decided I needed to try and get comfortable with his state. I did not like seeing him so weak, but if this was going to go on for a while, I need to come to terms with it. Dad started coughing about 4:00 am Friday, waking mom and I up. He hadn’t been coughing for the two nights prior at all. We tried to get the nurse to put another patch on him that helped with the congestion build up, but they said we had to wait until 1:00 pm. We eventually had them give Ativan and Morphine to help him.
Mom and I hadn’t eaten and John decided that he would go get us something from Perkins. While John was gone, dad started breathing shallow again, but this time with more of a gasp to it. Mom grabbed his hand and said “Jo!” I turned off the t.v. that was on for background noise and listened to him. I hit the nurse call button and called John right away. I asked him if he was back yet and he said he was just pulling in. I said “Hurry!” I panicked. I kept saying “dad, dad, daddy!” I wanted so badly for him to respond again. The nurse said he still had a pulse. I ran to the door and opened it and looked down the hall for my brother, then ran back to the bed and held dad’s hand. I kissed him on the forehead and I told him he had to wait for John, again calling out “dad” over and over. John came in and dad took two tiny breaths and then stopped. It all happened so fast. I think it was less than 5 minutes. The nurse pronounced him at 12:56 pm. I just stayed there holding his hand for about 30 minutes until the nurse came in and said that they were going to take his catheter and I.V. out. I didn’t want to let go of his hand because I knew I would never hold it again. I kept thinking about how I didn’t have the opportunity to hold Ryan’s hand when he passed away and how much that hurts me inside. I was also trying to figure out how this just happened. Four hours earlier I was told he wasn’t hours away from death. Now he was gone. I had a feeling he didn’t want to leave with John there. I wondered if it was a coincidence or if dad didn’t want to put another burden on John. John is the youngest, but he is the one that takes care of everything for mom and dad. He is the only one that lives close to them. He has always carried a large amount of responsibility.
I had already let the rest of the family know dad had gone to heaven. Now I began to pack up the hospital room that had accumulated so much in that previous week.
I sat back down by dad and mom, John, and I talked about what a great man he was. It was then that I found out what had ultimately turned dad toward God. John told mom and I that after Ryan had died, dad got down on his knees to pray. As he was crying out to God in prayer, a member of the Mormon Church that had visited with dad before, called him on the telephone. Dad asked him, “Why are you calling me?” He replied that he just felt the Holy Spirit was pushing him to reach out. That was the answer for dad. He called my mother and told her he would like to go to church with her that Sunday. Less than one year later, mom and dad were remarried after 30 years of divorce in the LDS temple. I knew Ryan’s death had changed him, but I didn’t know any of the specifics.
Mom and John decided to stay with dad until the coroner came. I decided to leave. I went to my car and called my husband and sobbed.
The family started talking, planning the unbearable task of his services. Todd came on Sunday and helped me set up her Christmas tree and decorate the yard. Mom just seemed to walk in circles for days looking at dad’s stuff everywhere, wondering what she was going to do with it, crying, and trying to organize papers. We stayed busy with appointments, the obituary, song and photograph choices, and all the other details.
At the funeral home we met in the same room Neal had been taken to for me to view before anyone else did. I kept looking at that corner in the room and felt anxiety and grief. Dad had served in the army so we talked about him having full military honors. Mom and John said that they wanted that to happen. It scared me, funerals are tough enough. A 21 Gun Salute is so tough to witness, but such a great honor.
Mom and I went over every detail we could think of, over and over again. Neither one of us could sit down long enough to watch a show. We just had to keep our bodies busy to avoid our grief pouring out constantly.
I went home on Friday, ten days after arriving. Mom’s sister and her husband came to stay with mom. The services were still a week away.
Once I was home, I still wasn’t able to sit still. I worked on Christmas gift sorting and planning and made some moonflower seed starter kits for my family members at the services.
The family all started arriving at mom’s on Thursday. We had the family gathering at the funeral home on Friday night when we were able to view him and watch the tribute video. It was very emotional, but everything seemed to come together beautifully. It was a tough night towards the end of the night as Haley started to go into anaphylactic shock again. We got antihistamines in her and I took her to the ER. The first time she went into anaphylaxis was right after my best friend’s service for her son. We know now, that stress is one of her greatest triggers with her MCAS. Luckily this time she did not need the epinephrine as we were able to get control of her reactions with the antihistamines and steroids.
The morning of dad’s services the family all got ready and met at the church an hour before others so we could see dad and have a family prayer. I put a turkey feather in with dad. The feather was given to dad by Ryan, and after Ryan died, dad gave it to Haley. Haley wanted it to be buried with dad. I also put some ashes of Ryan in with him and the ashes of dad’s cat with him.
Dad’s service was absolutely wonderful! The people (including my younger brother) who spoke, talked about what a remarkable journey he had. Not focusing on the bad or hard times, but really admiring the journey he made toward following God’s plan and becoming so full of humility and grace. I knew I had forgiven dad for any wrongdoings in our past, but I didn’t know what a tremendous impact he had had on so many.
It was a bitter cold day with a strong breeze. Going to the cemetery was uncomfortable. I was praying for the wind to settle. The military was all standing at attention as we went and sat by dad’s gravesite for the 21 Gun Salute to start the burial service. A prayer was given and then we placed roses on his grave.
It was nice to have so much of our family together and support each other when dealing with such grief. On the other hand, it was terribly hard to say goodbye to everyone.
I went back home the next day. The rest of my siblings were able to stay a few more days. Each day got a little quieter at mom’s house. Mom is learning to live alone after so many years of taking care of dad. Her heart hurts all the time, and my heart hurts for her.
She came to Spearfish to spend Christmas with my family, which was such a blessing. All of my children, their spouses, six of my seven grandkids, and Todd’s mom came over and we had a very loud and exciting Christmas Eve together. Far from the quiet that mom is getting used to.
Today is Christmas Day. I said goodbye to my dad one month ago. I drove mom back to Sheridan and we went up to the cemetery to put some holiday decorations on dad’s grave. I’m glad we did. I am missing him this Christmas, I will miss him always.
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