- Joined
- May 9, 2002
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- 12,685
As I type this, my father-in-law's labored breathing matches the gasp of the oxygen machine comforting him. His remaining life is measured in hours, literally hours. Please forgive me if this post rambles a bit. We are overcome with both grief and distilled spirits (this family is Irish, by God
).
You might have remembered my prayer in the Good Will Thread. All I wanted for Christmas was one more good holiday with my dad-in-law. My wife even joked with him in the hospital 3 weeks ago, "OK, now you just hang on for one more Christmas, daddy." We had no idea he would take it so literally. We had a rich full day on the 25th. My wife and I arrived from out of town around 9am. My brother-in-law and his wife and their 4 kids showed up within 10 minutes. Brunch, presents, kids, and an evening Christmas party passed. Dad did his best to keep up. He's such a trooper. Good drugs helped him through it all.
The next day, my wife and mother-in-law decided to have a little "retail therapy". They left me and my brother-in-law with dad and the kids while they shopped (mom really needed to get out). Dad sat around most of the day. What little he moved, he required me to get about.
The following day, he could no longer move of his free will. He called in my mother-in-law and stated that he wanted to go where he was going to die. Literally withing 48 hours he was on his death bed. He had honored my wife's wish of "one more Christmas" to a T. What kind of daddy won't grant his little girl's wish, right?
Tonight, Saturday the 3rd, I sit and type. The on-call minister is here from their church. The head pastor is over in Israel visiting the holy land even as the rockets land. Dad is breathing very slowly and laboriously. He has a noticeable death rattle. He can no longer move or talk and only groans out in pain. He is given liquid morphine every hour by mom. He is surrounded by his loved ones. My wife has not left his side nor let go of his hand. Mom keeps telling him to let go. Levity is reached when we discuss with the minister how dad "rescued" my wife from a wasp on our wedding day.
As we were saying our vows. A wasp became tangled in my wife's veil on the back of her head. Daddy to the rescue. He reached in to grab the insect before it could become enraged and sting his daughter on her day. The funny thing is, as he reached in the wasp turned and presented its back to him. He gently grasped it by the wings, its stinger scraping along his thumb nail, and let it go into the breeze. These are the kind of moments that made up Mike's life.
We are just willing him to go. We are willing God to take him. His suffering is immense. Once a man of well over 220 lbs, he barely weighs 140. When I helped him from the bed to his bedside toilet, his legs would buckle. I could feel the cancer in his shoulders. I could feel his frail bones creak and give. His groans would break my heart. His pencil thin emaciated arms would crane around my neck. "I'm not going to let you fall, dad." Dammit cancer takes humility. You must let go of your dignity. This is exactly what he didn't want.
It's funny how things work out. The way situations are presented to you as you have to deal with the trials and tribulations of life. Part of you is torn to shreds knowing that you will never see this person again. Part of you grieves at the knowledge that you are going to forget their voice. Yet still a part of you yearns for a quick passage. You know in your heart of hearts that this person needs to go.
My father in law is a fighter. He has been battling cancer for 8 years. Milestones have kept him going. "OK, I have cancer. Let's fight." "My daughter is getting married in 2005, let's make sure that I'm there to walk her down the aisle." etc etc etc. Dad knew that he was not going to die at the ripe old age on 90 in a motorcycle accident
It was only a matter of time before cancer got him. Here we are today. The day has come.
I know I have asked SO much from the Cantina as of late, but if you could spare just a little bit of smoke for a soul's safe passage to the next adventure beyond, I would be so very grateful. For 14 years, my function in this family has been that of the psychological and physical muscle. If emotions became flaired, I stepped in with rational process. If furniture needed to be moved from upstairs to downstairs, I was called.
Guys, I'm a mess. The stone facade is slowly starting to crumble. This man was more of a father to me at times than my own could be. I have gleaned so much from him over the years. I am a better man and a better husband for having known him. As saddened as I am to see him suffer in bed, the poetic coming together of family melts my heart. My wife on one side of him, mom grasping his hand on the other. My brother and sister in law on the floor kneeling at the footboard. Myself standing straight up at attention, pretending to be a stronger man than I am as I watch the life drain from the greatest man I have ever been privileged to know. Even the "Grand puppy" understands something is going on. He leans into me and gives me soft kisses. Tears well at my eyes, but my job is to be the rock. God gave me broad shoulders for a reason, to prop up the family that took me in and gave me so very much.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. I know it's not eloquent, but it is sincerely heartfelt. I don't know what I would do without this place.
).You might have remembered my prayer in the Good Will Thread. All I wanted for Christmas was one more good holiday with my dad-in-law. My wife even joked with him in the hospital 3 weeks ago, "OK, now you just hang on for one more Christmas, daddy." We had no idea he would take it so literally. We had a rich full day on the 25th. My wife and I arrived from out of town around 9am. My brother-in-law and his wife and their 4 kids showed up within 10 minutes. Brunch, presents, kids, and an evening Christmas party passed. Dad did his best to keep up. He's such a trooper. Good drugs helped him through it all.
The next day, my wife and mother-in-law decided to have a little "retail therapy". They left me and my brother-in-law with dad and the kids while they shopped (mom really needed to get out). Dad sat around most of the day. What little he moved, he required me to get about.
The following day, he could no longer move of his free will. He called in my mother-in-law and stated that he wanted to go where he was going to die. Literally withing 48 hours he was on his death bed. He had honored my wife's wish of "one more Christmas" to a T. What kind of daddy won't grant his little girl's wish, right?
Tonight, Saturday the 3rd, I sit and type. The on-call minister is here from their church. The head pastor is over in Israel visiting the holy land even as the rockets land. Dad is breathing very slowly and laboriously. He has a noticeable death rattle. He can no longer move or talk and only groans out in pain. He is given liquid morphine every hour by mom. He is surrounded by his loved ones. My wife has not left his side nor let go of his hand. Mom keeps telling him to let go. Levity is reached when we discuss with the minister how dad "rescued" my wife from a wasp on our wedding day.
As we were saying our vows. A wasp became tangled in my wife's veil on the back of her head. Daddy to the rescue. He reached in to grab the insect before it could become enraged and sting his daughter on her day. The funny thing is, as he reached in the wasp turned and presented its back to him. He gently grasped it by the wings, its stinger scraping along his thumb nail, and let it go into the breeze. These are the kind of moments that made up Mike's life.
We are just willing him to go. We are willing God to take him. His suffering is immense. Once a man of well over 220 lbs, he barely weighs 140. When I helped him from the bed to his bedside toilet, his legs would buckle. I could feel the cancer in his shoulders. I could feel his frail bones creak and give. His groans would break my heart. His pencil thin emaciated arms would crane around my neck. "I'm not going to let you fall, dad." Dammit cancer takes humility. You must let go of your dignity. This is exactly what he didn't want.
It's funny how things work out. The way situations are presented to you as you have to deal with the trials and tribulations of life. Part of you is torn to shreds knowing that you will never see this person again. Part of you grieves at the knowledge that you are going to forget their voice. Yet still a part of you yearns for a quick passage. You know in your heart of hearts that this person needs to go.
My father in law is a fighter. He has been battling cancer for 8 years. Milestones have kept him going. "OK, I have cancer. Let's fight." "My daughter is getting married in 2005, let's make sure that I'm there to walk her down the aisle." etc etc etc. Dad knew that he was not going to die at the ripe old age on 90 in a motorcycle accident
It was only a matter of time before cancer got him. Here we are today. The day has come.I know I have asked SO much from the Cantina as of late, but if you could spare just a little bit of smoke for a soul's safe passage to the next adventure beyond, I would be so very grateful. For 14 years, my function in this family has been that of the psychological and physical muscle. If emotions became flaired, I stepped in with rational process. If furniture needed to be moved from upstairs to downstairs, I was called.
Guys, I'm a mess. The stone facade is slowly starting to crumble. This man was more of a father to me at times than my own could be. I have gleaned so much from him over the years. I am a better man and a better husband for having known him. As saddened as I am to see him suffer in bed, the poetic coming together of family melts my heart. My wife on one side of him, mom grasping his hand on the other. My brother and sister in law on the floor kneeling at the footboard. Myself standing straight up at attention, pretending to be a stronger man than I am as I watch the life drain from the greatest man I have ever been privileged to know. Even the "Grand puppy" understands something is going on. He leans into me and gives me soft kisses. Tears well at my eyes, but my job is to be the rock. God gave me broad shoulders for a reason, to prop up the family that took me in and gave me so very much.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. I know it's not eloquent, but it is sincerely heartfelt. I don't know what I would do without this place.
:thumbup: She was delivered via the planned C section. Mom is fine, baby is resting. They can't tell if she got daddy's fiery red hair. They have noted the distinct absence of hooves and horns, which if you knew her daddy it might be a legitimate concern