Today I leave for home.
How do I adjust to my normal daily routine when I’ve been here, in my dad’s world, at the hospital, at his condo, comforting his cats, packing up our memories, crying with my sister? It will be a strange transition, but Don went through the same thing when his father died. His father’s illness was sudden, I had to stay home with our fragile dogs, and Don had to face all of that without me. He’ll be waiting for me at the airport tonight. I can’t wait to hug him.
Dad’s decline was due to a series of things that seemed to spiral out of control. His blood became too thin, his back injury caused him a great deal of pain. He was on pain medicine. Perhaps the combination of everything was too much for him, we don’t know. Some of this is a mystery. He was very, very ill when I arrived, but he could talk. Not a great deal, but he let us know when he needed water. He hated the oxygen that was flowing in through his nose and he kept trying to pull it out. He also hated the monitor that was taped to his finger. So he had to have soft restraints to keep him from pulling everything out.
As the hours passed on Wednesday, he became a bit more articulate. Meredith said he had smiled twice that day before I arrived, both of them at the mention that I was on my way. Later, he smiled when Stacy, his health care aide, mentioned that the cats were getting into mischief at the condo. He knew I was there, he knew Meredith was there, and he knew Stacy was there. Stacy was very close to my father and she was a big part of his life, so we made sure she was included in his final hours. He was very restless, and a couple of times he said, “Let me die in peace.” Finally, late Wednesday, a combination of a sedative and morphine enabled him to sleep and Meredith and I left for her house around 11:00. He now had pneumonia.
On Thursday morning, he seemed a bit better. Just a bit, of course, but you measure those little improvements as something momentous, don’t you? He asked a couple of questions, he wanted to know if the doctors had figured out what was wrong with him. We told him he had pneumonia. He grew frustrated sometimes trying to make his words and thoughts clear. But he was making more sense. His doctor came by and we all decided to wait another day and see if he improved a bit more.
When some aides came in to move him and do some procedures, Meredith, Stacy and I went to the cafeteria to get some lunch. We were only gone for about 45 minutes, but when we came back, everything had changed. He had a fever. He was trembling. He moaned. His heart rate had accelerated and become erratic. The nurse was trying regulate his heart rate and his blood pressure. He got more and more confused. He said “Help me. I’m not well. I need to get to bed.” I explained that he was in bed and he was in the hospital and that doctors and nurses were taking care of him. Then he stopped talking. We began to tell him that if he needed to go, we understood. We knew he wanted to be with Mom again. And my brother. And all the loved ones he has lost. We told him we would be okay, and we thanked him for being our father.
All through this, we were adamant that nothing was to be done to prolong his life if the quality of his life would be forever changed. He wasn’t on life support, but he was being supported in such a way that would only artificially lengthen his time on earth. Each time the nurse gave him something like potassium or albumin, we wondered if that was only prolonging his agony. He grew worse and worse. We asked for an increase in morphine because we didn’t want him to have any pain. As we sat there in that darkened room, Meredith holding one hand, me holding the other, we told him how much we loved him, we talked about wonderful memories, like camping together, and spending time at the lake and on the sailboat. We stroked his hand, we rubbed his chest, we tended to his needs as he tended to ours when we were babies.
Before we were to make any final decision, I needed to talk to the doctor one more time. This doctor was the most compassionate doctor I’ve ever had the privilege to know. He understood. He said “We are humbled every day at what we cannot fix.” I said it seemed like putting bandaids on a wound only to have another and another appear. He agreed. So we made the decision to stop anything like antibiotics, to ease up on the oxygen (he was at 100%, which told us there was little hope), to let him be.
I left the room to call Don and tell him what was going on. When I came back, there was a chaplain there from Mom’s church. She had appeared out of nowhere – no one called her. And she asked us if we wanted to take communion and have a small service. She would anoint him with oil. She would utter words of passage. We agreed. And she leaned into my father and spoke in his ear, telling him what she would do. He knew. As we went through that rite, he grasped Meredith’s hand and squeezed it with great strength. He only relaxed that grip when the ritual was over. He knew. That chaplain was an angel. She told us to say the words: Thank you, forgive me, and I forgive you. We did.
The three of us held him and spoke to him. Stacy left the room for a moment. And I broke down, sobbing as I grasped the fact that his breathing would eventually stop and then his heart would follow. The enormity of it was too much. Meredith came over to my side of the bed to comfort me. As she held me, we heard his breathing change. And we knew the end was close. He struggled for breath, with short periods of no breathing. Stacy came back in the room and we told her the end was near and she was shocked, just as we were, at how quickly he was leaving us. As we stood around his bedside, holding his hands, stroking his brow, we watched him take his last breath.
From the moment we decided to honor his wishes to the end was a mere two hours. That told me that he was ready to go. Just as his taking a turn for the worse happened when we were out of the room, as if he needed us out of there so he could let go enough to start his final journey.
It was beautiful and devastating. Both. But to be there with him as he took his final breath, as he left this plane of existence to move on to a joyous world was an honor I will never forget. Never. It was the most profound experience of my life.
When my brother died, he was in Michigan. I was in Boston. When my mother died, it was the middle of the night in Florida. I was in New York. So to be able to be with my father, to let him know how much I loved him and that he wasn’t alone was a gift. Just as he gave me the gift of life, I was able to give him the gift of presence, of being, of love. Thank God for my sister. We were fully in agreement on everything. When one of us collapsed in tears, the other was there to embrace and comfort. We knew.
And how utterly sad that our estranged sister wasn’t there. She, who hadn’t seen my parents in 14 years. Who had never come to Florida to introduce them to her youngest child. Who spoke to them on the phone daily, but never gave the gift of herself and her family. Who cut herself off from most of the family, including Meredith and me.
I volunteered to call her when I was about to leave for Florida. It was the first time I had spoken to her in 9 years, since the time my dad suffered an aortic aneurysm and almost died. At that time, I begged her to come down. So did Meredith. She didn’t. When I called her on Wednesday, I told her it didn’t look good and that I was flying down there. No mention of a similar plan from her, but why was I surprised? I won’t go into what else happened on that call, but I was shaking with rage when I hung up. Don heard it. He was furious.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t get away. I understand that sometimes it is impossible to get away. It’s that she chose not to come.
Dad knew I was there. He knew Meredith was there. He asked for both of us at times, when he couldn’t see us for a moment. He knew Stacy was there, Stacy who thought of him as a father figure, who loved him. Interestingly, he never asked for my other sister. Not once. He knew she wouldn’t come. How heartbreaking to know without a doubt that one of your children won’t make the effort to be by your side.
When I followed through with my sister’s direction as to how to update her, she accused me of deliberately misunderstanding her. I did not misunderstand her. There I was, just having gone through the death of my father, and she was staying true to form and, by doing so, leaving me shaken. She lives in a fantasy world of her own making. Meredith and my brother-in-law urged me not to let her get to me, not to let her take anything away from the profound experience we had just been through. I called Don, who said the same thing. He remembered exactly what she said to me during that phone conversation. He had been there. So he told me to think of her as a gnat. As an annoying gnat that I no longer had to deal with. Never again. That was a gift my husband gave me. A true gift.
I never want to hear her name again. I want nothing to do with her. Neither does Meredith. The only tie that bound us was my father. And he is gone. We will send her some photos and memorabilia that we’ve found in the last two days that she might want, which, frankly, is more than she would do. My father has been scrupulously fair in his will because he loved all of his children, so that won’t be an issue.
Such pain, such profound beauty, such sadness, such heartbreak. My bond with Meredith grows ever stronger. My bond with my father and mother will never die. Both of them gone in less than two years time. Both of them loved eternally, as is my brother.
I know this was long, and I wasn’t going to post today, but I felt the urge to write. Writing has always helped me make sense of things. Thank you for listening.
Happy Monday.
Beautifully written poignant post. Heartfelt prayers as you continue this journey
Thank you, Linda.
Beautifully said Claudia and thank you for sharing such an intimate experience with us. I have tears running down my face of course, but I also feel your peace as you were able to be there…fully there for this experience. It reminds me of losing my Dad, who passed moments before I arrived with just my Mother there, but it was as he wished. I still felt his presence in that room and I was able to spend some moments with him. Anyway, do not let your other sibling (she doesn’t deserve the word sister in my opinion) ruin what was a heartbreaking but also special time that you and Meredith shared. Go home and let Don wrap you in his arms of love.
hugs,
Linda
Thank you, Linda.
Thank you for sharing this experience. As Linda said above, go home to your husband, your rock. You and Meredith are lucky to have each other and such beautiful parents.
Thank you, Dana.
Bless your heart, Claudia, this such a hard but necessary part of life as a loving child and family member. you and yours are in my prayers.
Thank you, Debra.
How fortunate that you were able to be there so fully, and also that you have the emotional intelligence to understand both your fathers death and the situation with your sister as well as the ability to process them through your writing. Your feet are firmly planted on that long winding road that is life.
Soon you’ll be with Don and Scout; that will help so much.
Thank you, Margaret.
Aw I’m so sorry for your loss Claudia, tears are streaming down my face. I know how hard it must be for you and Meredith and watch. Prayers are going up and know that I love you :)
Thank you, Dawn.
Thank you for sharing your dad’s journey with us. I’m so glad you got to be there with him. It was wonderful that you and Meredith had each other and to know that you have Don and Scout waiting at home. Sending healing thoughts to you.
Thank you, Kathy.
What a beautiful post describing your Dad’s journey…and yours as well. I have tears, of course, streaming down my cheeks. Your story reminded me so much of my Dad’s…he had been quite ill…and slipped away peacefully. My mom and I were at his side. And 15 years later, I still tear up when I remember his passing. Wishing you and Meredith peace. Blessings to you…safe travels. You’ll see Don and Scout soon! ;)
Thank you, Donnamae!
How beautiful, Claudia. I am so happy that your other sister was there with you. My prayers are with you and your sisters.
Thank you, Sharon.
Your words speak volumes.I’m sending another embrace in spirit your way Claudia.
Thank you, Grace.
I am happy you had the time there with your Dad and sis. I lost my Dad when I was 22, and miss him to this day!!! Hold on to your beautiful memories!!
Thank you, Lori Loree.
Thank you for sharing. I lost both parents in 14 months. I found it so very sad but also a feeling of extreme peace in those moments. I was alone with my Dad since my brother was caring for my Mom. With our Mom we were there together. We had sit there for hours and were exhausted. We went to her other room (assisted living center) and both fell asleep. Mom died within a few minutes of our leaving her bedside. We decided that is the way she wanted it. We had told her the same things you did. I am so sorry for you and your sister.
Thank you, Janet.
Writing can be cathartic. I’m not possessed with your talent, so I draw.
I am saddened to hear about your other sister. I do the estate work in our office and have come to the conclusion that a death in the family brings out the best and the worst in people.
Have a safe journey home.
Thank you, Barbara.
Beautifully written post Claudia. I cried reading your words. It is so sad to see them take that last breath but you are comforted in knowing that the pain is gone and they are with loved ones.
Praying for you constantly.
Love ya,
Judy
Thank you Judy.
Oh Claudia. Crying is supposed to help in the healing. So they say. I never allow myself to cry, but today your post brought back memories of my dad’s death. And I had to cry.
When you have had sometime to mourn I will tell you the story of my dad. It is an amazing story that sometimes I can’t even believe.
Please know you are in prayers, and that all of your readers love you.
Thank you, Trudy.
An amazing gift you and Meredith gave your father. To be present and compassionate and give him your blessings to go. We had to do this with my dad and as tough as it was, I was so conscious of how peaceful it was. Very healing, in time, to reflect back on this time and know he was held with love as he took his last breath on this earth. Peace to you all! Hugs, Chy
Thank you, Chy.
Beautifully written Claudia. Just lovely. Safe travels home to Don and Scout. Sending prayers and hugs your way.
Thank you, Vera.
So sorry to hear of the loss you have all suffered, in several ways. You expressed your experience beautifully here, and I hope it brought you any remaining peace you need. Regarding your sister…. right now I’m dealing with my own father’s deep decline and dismantling of his life, including finding a home for his cat!… and my sister has no relationship with him. Whatever happened between your sister and her family, perhaps she stays away for reasons you may not fully understand. You see her absense as a hurtful act on her part.. but the truth is we can never know for sure why another person does what they do. I’m learning that from difficult experience myself. Sometimes, it’s for self preservation, sometimes it’s for pure selfish reasons. My sister’s relationship with my father is hers to nurture.. or not. And I don’t fully understand or know why she stays away… but I know her to be a very decent person in all other ways, so I try not to judge or take it personally. Perhaps there is something you aren’t aware of that your sister suffers from. A torment you can’t know. Just a thought.
It is also my sister’s relationship, or lack thereof, with us, as well. We are sure she is suffering from some sort of problem, whether she is bi-polar or something else. She stays away from all of us. And that’s too bad.
I hope she gets help, but I doubt she will.
What a sad and lovely post. It was so good that you and Meredith could be there with your dad at the end. It must be a scary time. And I won’t fan the flames of the rest of it. Families can be hard. I think this will be a difficult holiday season for you. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.
Thank you, Tana.
Dear Claudia,
Thinking of you. How wonderful that you and your sister could be there for your Father – it truly is a gift.
My Mother died at home with hospice care and I am truly grateful that we were able to allow to her to have a loving and peaceful death and that I was with her until the end. I will treasure that forever.
I will, too. Thank you, t.
Sad and yet very beautiful to read. Cried from the first word though. How very wonderful you and your sister were with your Dad. I was not so fortunate no one was with my father when he died, that being said overtime when you read of another’s dad passing you will cry for your dad again. Sorry it is just the way…. In time passing on old photo of you Dad will just make you feel warm and happy. I have old family photos in the library and looking at them now across the room I feel happy. It will happen, Take care.
Thank you, Mary.
Dear Claudia, I am so sorry for your loss. I’m glad you had your sister with you!
As far as your estranged sister goes, I agree with what Karen said. Siblings often have very different relationships with their parents. It’s impossible to fairly judge what you can’t really know. I think you are truly blessed to have had a good relationship with your parents. Many people can’t, and that is very painful. I’m sure your sister is in a lot of pain.
I will just reiterate: she also has no relationship with her living siblings. Or her cousins. Or her nieces and nephews. The problem goes far beyond just her relationship with my father. Of course she is in pain. But she has also left all of us in pain. And my parents most of all. xo
My heart feels so heavy for you.
I’ve been through some of what you’ve gone thru (I guess most of us at this age have) but, unfortunately (because it was hell for him), my dad lingered for two months in the hospital because he refused to sign a DNR and he had his full ‘faculties’ to make his own choices; he wanted them to do anything and everything to extend his life. I know his overriding concern was for the disabled wife he’d be leaving behind who was his one-and-only since the age of 16. This was a man, now age 84, who DID NOT want to die; had zero interest in dying; was, in fact, always too busy living to even think about the concept of dying. If I’d have gone through all that, sitting vigil at his hospital bedside for 45 days at three different hospitals…and then trying to tend to his overwhelming medical issues for just 12 days at home in between, completely in over my head…and if I’d had to add in a sibling who was difficult and unsupportive, I can’t even begin to realize how much worse that would have made things for all of us, especially Dad.
What I’ve found, Claudia…and I realize some might disagree…is that there isn’t much that’s ‘pretty’ about death as the earthly vessel/organic human body struggles against its inevitable decline. I was intimately present and involved in the final months-days/passing of three elderly loved ones, two of whom were my parents, in the past 9 years. For my parents, I was the primary/sole decision maker after ‘the point of no return.’ It was a lonely place for me to be as an only child. We are mostly just ‘regular’ people out there, not equipped to make some of these decisions for another, yet we find ourselves thrown into it, forced to pull our brain cells together and ask the right questions, do the right thing; duck out of water.
But I knew my dad had left the room; after his last breaths, it was swift. And I also knew he was fine. I’d never felt so sure of anything in my life. I felt the same way after I scattered my brother’s ashes high above a beautiful, inaccessible mountain meadow; again, swift. A handing over. To that next good and better place he was to go. These things are deeply personal, but my rusty faith…the things learned in church even when a child…didn’t abandon me. I was shored up to know that no matter how much I’d miss these beloved people here in front of me, in the flesh, they’d moved on to something greater. And the other beautiful thing about it is the love and compassion from others, who understand, who want to soothe and shield you from more hurt and the pain of loss. You reach an age, and we’ve all lost somebody by now; loss brings memory of loss. Other folks can’t exactly know what you’re going through, no one ever can, yet they can relate/remember and reach out, to comfort; to reassure.
I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through such a bad time. You’ll be in Don’s loving arms soon; he really sounds like a heckuva guy, the BEST. I have thought of you so many times over the past few days and wish you healing as the days ahead pass one into the next. “Time” is a great healer.
Thank you, Vicki.
Crying and sending hugs and prayers as you go home and are comforted by Don and Scout.
Thank you, Tracy.
Rejoice in the joy of your parents being together again!!!
Take care of yourself. Rest. You’ve been through a lot.
Addie
Thank you, Addie.
Having been through this twice, I can tell you that the last moments will stay with you for a lifetime. My parents had a dear friend who used to say that pneumonia is the friend of the elderly and infirm. It comes quickly and ends it all quickly too. As hard as it is for us to fully accept, it is a blessing of sorts. I am happy that you were able to spend those last minutes with your Daddy. Sadly, death is part of life and it is hard for us to understand it’s mysteries. I may have told you this before, but when I was a small child I had pneumonia and was not responding to the antibiotics, The doctors told my parents they were losing me, and everyone was by my bedside. I felt myself lift up away from my body and yet could see myself lying below. My parents were crying, the doctor had his head down but I was floating blissfully above and trying to communicate to them that I was just fine. But here I am, back on this plane to retell the story. Since then I have never looked at death as the end but rather a new beginning into a new life we don’t understand. You and your sister were there to wish him bon voyage. One day you and I will both take that journey and from what little I have seen of it, it is freeing and delightful. Until that day, honor your parents by living your life to the fullest with those you love who are left behind. It won’t always be easy, you will be sad, but it’s the best any of us can do until the day we are reunited with those we have loved. Keeping you in my thoughts and sending hugs.
God Bless,
Susan and Bentley
You haven’t shared that before, Susan. What an amazing story. Thank you.
Beautifully written, Claudia. I was numb for a few weeks after my mother died. Numb, but with rushes of adrenaline at unexpected times, if that makes sense. Can you give yourself a break for a few days? Just relax, I mean. Take hot baths. Drink hot tea. Get some take-out for dinner. Read an absorbing book. Take Scout for a walk in the woods.
Restore your soul.
Just be.
Thank you, Nancy.
God often gives us those precious moments of clarity for them to say goodbye and to help us to release them. Prayers for you as you continue to grieve.
Thank you, Bonnie.
Claudia,
Thank you for sharing your story. It gives us such an intimate understanding of what you’re going through, but only a glimpse. You’re right some things are best left unsaid… When my MIL passed she was on hospice and I was here alone with her. She had one daughter that was estranged and still she never came to be by her mothers side. She never showed for the service. It’s sad. Not only have you lost your brother and your parents, you’ve lost a sister as well. It is hard to qualify how this impacts the entire family for the rest of your days… We can always forgive; because that is what keeps us from become bitter. However, it’s the reconciliation that is hard; we are not bound to do it. Just move forward is all we can do.
Prayers for you and Meredith and for the lost sister.
May the grace of God be with your spirit.
I see no hope for reconciliation. Thank you, Patricia.
You know more than anyone just how cathartic writing can be. Getting everything out whether by handwriting or typing allows the emotions and thoughts to connect and make sense. My aunt stopped talking to the family after my grandmother died. She got mad about something and that was that; she hasn’t spoken to anyone since (more than 30 years ago). My dad stopped talking to me 10 years ago. His choice, not because I did anything, but because he has issues. There are some people who are just not meant to be a part of your life, family or not, and that’s okay. You and Meredith have each other and your own families and good friends to share your life journey with. That’s more than enough. Oh, and let’s not forget those furbabies Max and Scout!!. :) I’m glad you were able to be there and that the two of you could help your dad transition peacefully. Hugs of blessings and comfort.
Thank you, Tammy. You do understand and I appreciate your wisdom and guidance on the subject of my estranged sister.
Claudia, it was an honor and a privilege to have read your post today. You wrote the last chapter in your father’s life with tenderness and sensitivity. I’m sure he’s every bit as proud of you as your mom was not so long ago. I hope knowing how happy the two of them are – to be together again – brings you much comfort in future days. My own parents died within 16 months of each other. Now I always picture them with their married couple/best friends in Heaven, the four of them doing as they had done for nearly 50 years, at our house or theirs. Sitting around, in picture-postcard weather, on the terrace in lawn chairs, with their whiskey sours, talking about everything under the sun. An indelible memory for me.
PS – one thing I never learned until after my parents were gone. How much more we grow up and yes, even mature – once our parents are not around. To paraphrase Jane Fonda: “When you’ve lost both your parents, YOU are suddenly the one in the on-deck circle of Life, the next one up. And the one who’s expected to be wise…” So, maybe someday, somehow, your prodigal sister will find clarity, comfort and maybe even reconciliation for her own pain too. ?
I hope, at the very least, that she gets some help with her problems.
Thank you, Janet. By the way, I’ve decided to stay until Saturday. Meredith needs me. And I want to help her more.
Sending you more hugs. You are in my thoughts.
Thank you, Brae.
Thank you for sharing with us Claudia. I pray that you and Meredith will be surrounded with love and comfort during this difficult time.
Thank you, Denise.
What you described was so similar to what I experienced when my Dad passed away in 2008, we were all seated near him and touching him and I am so grateful to have been there with him. Sending you a hug and praying for you and your family.
Thank you, Debbie.
Dear Claudia, What a beautiful description of such a difficult time. You were blessed to have been there with your dad when he crossed over. And how gracious of you and Meredith to include Stacey; that was very kind, to her and to him.
I will be thinking of you and your family.
Elle
Thank you, Elle.
Oh my goodness, that was such a beautiful tribute yet so sad. I sat here on the couch, reading it, with tears in my eyes.
O
Thank you, Susan.
That was a moving a beautiful tribute to your father, Claudia. I sat here on the couch reading it and tears filled my eyes. I’m glad you were able to write it, though.
Whatever hardened your other sister’s heart? How very tragic. Family members are our gifts from God but she doesn’t know that. I think if it were my own sister, I would just pray for her and not let my own heart fill with bitterness and unforgiveness. You will find your own way.
Well, may your Dad be dancing in paradise as we speak. Thank you for sharing that heartbreaking end. Susan
Thank you, Susan.
This was so beautifully written from your heart, Claudia. It is one of the most profound things a person goes through in life, saying goodbye to a parent. I am glad you and Meredith could be together to be with your father on his journey…how comforting it must have been for your father. I will be thinking of you in the days to come…xoxo
Thank you, Linda.
Reading your post today brought tears to my eyes – your experience brought back so many memories of losing my dear oldest sister this past March. And, I could not have survived that loss without the love of my other siblings – we drew on each other’s strength. You and your sister were united in your love for your Dad and I’m sure his leaving from this earth was made easier with your gentle words and affection. You and your sister are a blessing to each other and you aare united in the love for your Dad and also your Mom. And, isn’t it amazing that love expands and grows – just look at the pictures of you and little Z — you can see the love in your eyes even when they are filled with sadness. Love truly will carry us through! Prayers for comfort and peace for you both.
Thank you, Regina Anne.
So very moving. I cried at your heartbreaking emotion. Especially about your sister. So very sorry that you have to deal with this. xx
Thank you, Amy.
My sincere condolences to both you and Meredith and your families. You are both so special to me as I daily look forward to reading your thoughts and seeing the pictures you share of your lives. Not having a sister, I wish you were both mine! So glad that you had each other to help you through losing your father. Know that many others share your sorrow.
Thank you, Barbara.
Beautifully shared Claudia. My dad died in the hospital ER before any of us were able to get there, but I was beside my mom as she passed. As hard as it is, it is also a gift … being there.
Sending a hug and continued prayers.
Thank you, Debbie!
Thank you for being my Father..what a wonderful thing to say…I know you may not feel like it now but…you were so lucky in that you were able to be with him and say what was in your heart…I was 10 years old when my Daddy died and we were so close…I was Daddy’s girl for sure…Unfortunately everyone in my family dies suddenly and there is no chance for goodbyes..My Mom went the same way…when I was 26…It is hard…realizing that you no longer have parents to talk to when things are going not so well or when you just need to know that someone believes in you…you may feel a bit lost and alone in this big world Claudia…I still do at times…I am so glad that you have Don to help you get through…and sweet Meredith…I know you are her strength as she is yours…I do believe that your Dad is now “where he wants to be”..he is with your Mom…Take care all of you…I wish I could send hugs in an envelope….Nancy
Thank you, Nancy.
Oh, Claudia, as much as I know you want to get home to Don and sweet Scout, I was so happy to read a few posts up that you decided to stay with Meredith for a while longer. I just know that you will be so happy you did so. These first days out are so hard for everyone, and you and Meredith will, I’m sure, be forever grateful for this time together.
I know the pain of an estranged sibling, and nothing you do can change what she does or affect what her issue is. That is her journey. The sad part is that it DOES impact you and the rest of your family, and it is just so unfair. As you said, you now can move on without her since both your Mom and Dad are gone.
Your story was an amazing one and you were both kind and brave to share it with us. This will, I’m sure, help bring you to the peace you need and deserve. We are thinking of you, offering up prayers, and thanking you for taking time to let us know how you are doing. It is good that you and Meredith are able to take care of each other right now.
xo ?
Thank you, Chris.
Claudia, reading your post about the last hours you had with your dad, brought back memories of the last days I spent caring for my sweet dad until he passed away. Although so sad for me, I would not have traded those moments he and I had together. Even though your heart is broken, you will be forever grateful having been there with him and your sister.
Very sad your other sister has made her choices, but sometimes we have to let those people go when nothing seems to make a difference. We are not responsible for the choices others make. Take comfort in these days you can stay with Merideth and then go home to your dear husband.
Thank you, Susan.
Sorry for the lose of your father…having lost both my parents I can understand the pain you are in right now. Your post was very heartfelt and one can tell how close your were…your memories will continue to hold you close to each other…..
Thank you, Cathy.
Claudia,
what a beautifully written tribute to your Father, it brought me to tears! Thank you for sharing this beautiful , incredibly Intimate account of yours and Meredith’s personal journey in the final hours of your Father’s Life… It has deeply touched all of us who have read it.
You will be so glad that you extended your stay to share this time with Meredith. You both and your families will continue to be in my thoughts and prayers.
Debbi
Thank you, Debbi.
I am so very sorry for your loss. You wrote of it beautifully and those words will be a comfort to you as time goes on. To be present at the death of a loved one is a life-changing experience, like a gift you never really wanted to receive.
I am sorry your other sister was a problem through all this. Truly her loss, both missing the end of your father’s life, and losing the link to you.
Take care of yourself in days ahead. There will be some rough ones, for sure.
Laurie S.
Thank you, Laurie.
So sorry for your loss, Claudia.
I hope you arrived home safely, and that you find comfort in the warmth and love of Don and Scout.
I’m still here, Sue, after deciding that it was too soon to leave. I’ll see Don and Scout on Saturday.
I saw in your post from today that you had decided to stay in Florida a bit longer. In times of grief it is best to follow what the mind tells you is best. It is so important that you and your sister can comfort each other at this time.
Prayers for a safe journey on Saturday and peace for you and your family.
Thank you, Sue.
Thank you for sharing your profound experience is being present and saying goodbye to your father on his final journey. I understand what you mean about being the experience being both devastating and beautiful. I was with my mother during the final hours of her life and it was the most profound experience I’ve ever had. It was both beautiful and devastating at the same time. How sad that your other sister missed out on the opportunity to be present for this experience but unfortunately, as Don says she might be like a gnat. So sad. Sending healing thoughts as your heart heals and grasps the enormity of this experience.
Thank you, Sandy.
You wrote so movingly. Anything I could say, would sound so trivial. You are so wise and so grounded. I’m thankful for your experience with your dad.
Thank you, Jane.
I’m so sorry that you and Meredith had to go through this…but what a gift to be there for your Dad. I can feel the love that you had for him and what you still have for each other. It’s so sad that your other sister is missing the comfort you could have all been to each other at this time. I don’t understand people at times. My Dad’s wife, I refuse to call her my step mother, didn’t tell us of his death until he was buried. What purpose did that serve except to wound all four of us children? It seems your sister has the same mindset and you can never understand people like that. They don’t think the same as we do. What a blessing for you to have Don in your life.
How sweet to allow Stacy to be a part of his last moments. She obviously cared for your Dad very much. Speaking as a person who has been a caregiver to the elderly in the past, it is very difficult to say goodbye to the people you’ve cared for. How wonderful that you included her at this intimate time,
My prayers will be with all of you as you adjust to this new reality in your life.
Much love and many blessings,
Betsy
Thank you, Betsy.
So sorry for your loss Claudia, your post was heartfelt, thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Caroline.
Thinking of you and Meredith. Sending love and prayers.
Thank you, Liz.
Thank you for sharing such a personal and profound experience, Claudia. I can’t add much more than all the heartfelt comments from your friends. I’m glad you and Meredith have each other, and you both have supportive loving spouses to help you all move through this part of your journey.
Thank you, Wendy.
Dear Claudia. I’m sorry for your loss. May Lord console your heart.
Thank you, Milca.
Claudia, I have read your previous posts and I read this and cried all the way thru it. I am so very sorry to read about your loss. You are in my heart. Please tell your sister That I am thinking of her also. Bless you dear friend. xoxo,Susie
Thank you, Susie.
Dear Claudia, Something that was said at my daughters grave side service, has stuck with me,and always helps me feel a bit better. ” As time passes and the memories sweeten.”
I remember thinking, how could that EVER happen? It does Claudia as you know.
I Leave you with my Love and Prayers on your behalf,and that of your Loved ones.
-Judy A-
Thank you, Judy.
Claudia, I am so sorry to hear about the passing of your father. Judy told me this when we were on the phone talking the other night. I have missed so much by not being on the computer and blogging. My heart goes out to you…..my father has been very ill..hence my absence.
I loved reading the story of your mother’s ring….just so sweet and precious.
much love to you….
Becky
I’m sorry to hear of your father’s illness, Becky. Bless you. Thank you for your kind words today.
Eu chorei ao ler,abraços.
Obrigado, Edis.