My father’s health continues to deteriorate; today, hospice started Pop-pop on morphine.
He is a “rally-er,” my Pops, but I fear this may be the final leg in a long and arduous journey for him. I want my Dad to be pain-free. I want my Dad to not suffer. Most of all, I want Pop-pop to be free of it all.
Don’t get me wrong – the fact that this is happening tears me up inside. But – in an over-simplified analogy – it is sort of like when you are in fourth grade and it is the last day of your summer vacation. You know what is coming. You hate that it is, but it is inevitable. And so, you savor every single minute until that first class comes.
For me, I will savor every minute till that last breath comes…
When my Pop-pop crosses over, I imagine it will be in a place/setting that looks something like this:Pop-pop has always loved the outdoors. He will open the door to a place green and beautiful, and my Mom will be there, waiting for him. I imagine my Mom seated on this bench, my Pop-pop walking up behind her, surprising her with a sweet kiss on the neck, and then they will embrace, look back for just a minute and walk off hand-in-hand down the path.
I will be happy and sad; happy that they are reunited and sad that they are both away from me. Selfish, I know, but honest.
And so we wait – my siblings and I here with Pop-pop now, and my Mom, waiting for him on the other side. Like I said, I will be sad when he makes the trip but happy for him, too. Till that time comes, I plan on talking a lot with my Dad (although it is hard for him to answer back), and telling him how much I love him/what a great Dad he always has been, how I will miss him and what to tell Mom for me (I actually “talk” with my Mom all the time but Daddy likes to always have something to do, so carrying my message to Mom will maybe make his journey easier).
I hope the grass is even greener than in this picture. I hope the air is sweet and there are birds singing (Pop-pop loves songbirds). I hope it is beautiful beyond my imagination. And I hope I can take comfort in knowing that Martin and I will have one more angel watching over us…