after great pain
how do i write about my fathers death? i feel that anything i say won't be enough, or may sound like just "words". maybe this will help me...i don't know.
we knew he was dying. he moved into hospice care at the beginning of august, with the outlook of 6 to 8 months. i was expecting 6. i was hoping for 8. i never thought it would be 2 months. i feel like i was robbed of those 4 months with my dad.
he tried to hide his pain and suffering from everyone so its hard to realize how bad he was. i saw him the last weekend of september, and i'll cherish that time. since there was no more work left to do on the house, we were able to spend some quality time with him. he was in a lot of pain saturday, and the doctor had given him some painkillers so he was a little chatty. ian and i sat with him after dinner past visiting hours, as he told us stories from his past. we were planning on going back up the weekend of the 12th to visit him and my mom.
i called him on the 6th to thank him for the anniversary card and gift, and to get his advice on buying some trees. we chatted for a little bit, but he was tired and having a hard time breathing, so it was a short call.
on wednesday the 10th, a little after noon, i got a phone call from my mothers nursing home. they said she was really upset about my father passing away. at first i was shocked, then confused, and then a little scared. she couldn't explain why she thought that, but she was upset. [she has dementia, so we didn't really know what was going on]. i called my sister penny, but there was no answer. then i figured, well... i'll just call daddy.
i was never so relieved to hear his voice. we joked a little bit... he was getting a sponge bath, and i let him get back to that. i told him i'd call him a little later. i called the nursing home back and let them know everything was ok. i spoke with penny and she went in to visit him and he was doing ok. only 2 hours later, penny was called back up to the VA and given the news that he had passed away. he was in pain, asked for some medicine, and was gone by the time they brought it back to the room. penny called to tell me the news. in shock, i called ian. thankfully he knew what the tears meant, since i couldn't say a word, and he left work to come home.
later on, we found out from the nursing home that my mom was a wreck between 3:30 and 4, telling them they had to let her go to him, that her husband needed her. when we made it to erie to visit her, she told us that daddy came to her, that he told her he couldn't do it anymore, and held his chest. it gives me chills thinking about that...
she seems to be doing ok.... as ok as can be expected. losing a spouse of 39 years would be painful for anyone. but given her condition... i think it makes things a little worse. she knows he's gone, but i think sometimes she forgets the timeframe and when things have happened. but maybe that makes things easier.
the viewings and funeral, well, what can you say. it was sad, it was painful. it was just horrible. there are really no words to describe everything. i can't remember when i've cried so much in my life. during the viewings, whenever it got too much for me, i would leave and go to the lounge to cry, or walk the hallway. i didn't want my mom to see me so upset because of it possibly upsetting her more. at one point during the service, it really hit me, and a sob came. and all of a sudden, my mom was a "mother" again, and put her arm around me and wanted to comfort me and make sure i was ok. there was a moment of clarity and the roles were reversed and she knew i needed her. it only lasted a minute or so, but it was comforting.
even though my father was in WWII, he did not want a full military funeral. his coffin was draped with the flag [which will eventually go to me when my mother passes], and he had a bagpiper play amazing grace. that was incredibly sad, but really beautiful. we placed flowers on the casket and had to leave. its all a bit of a blur to me.
the days since then have been difficult. i've been hiding out at home, doing a little work to keep me distracted. its so much harder than i ever expected. i haven't been sleeping well. and unfortunately when i wake up, its the first thing i remember. i haven't had much of an appetite, other than for soup. ian's mom has been sending home cookies which have been helping. i've received comments, emails, card, etc... and they all mean so much to me. its comforting to know that my friends are there for me. and i'm gonna need you guys the next few months. thank you so much for all the kind words and thoughts coming my way.
i really miss him. i'd call him every few days, and sit out on the back steps talking to him while sydney played in the yard. i'd always ask him what he had for lunch, and then we'd talk about days of our lives or what old movie he had been watching on tv. he was my go-to guy for gardening questions, and if i really had to wait until after memorial day to plant vegetables outside. he knew everything from quilting to home building and everything in between. he truly was a wonderful man and father.
people always say that you'll get past this. but the real truth is, before you can get past it, you have to live through it.
after great pain a formal feeling comes
the nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
the stiff heart questions, was it he that bore?
and yesterday, or centuries before?
the feet, mechanical, go round
a wooden way
of ground, or air, or ought,
regardless grown,
a quartz contentment, like a stone.
this is the hour of lead
remembered if outlived,
as freezing persons recollect the snow;
first chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
we knew he was dying. he moved into hospice care at the beginning of august, with the outlook of 6 to 8 months. i was expecting 6. i was hoping for 8. i never thought it would be 2 months. i feel like i was robbed of those 4 months with my dad.
he tried to hide his pain and suffering from everyone so its hard to realize how bad he was. i saw him the last weekend of september, and i'll cherish that time. since there was no more work left to do on the house, we were able to spend some quality time with him. he was in a lot of pain saturday, and the doctor had given him some painkillers so he was a little chatty. ian and i sat with him after dinner past visiting hours, as he told us stories from his past. we were planning on going back up the weekend of the 12th to visit him and my mom.
i called him on the 6th to thank him for the anniversary card and gift, and to get his advice on buying some trees. we chatted for a little bit, but he was tired and having a hard time breathing, so it was a short call.
on wednesday the 10th, a little after noon, i got a phone call from my mothers nursing home. they said she was really upset about my father passing away. at first i was shocked, then confused, and then a little scared. she couldn't explain why she thought that, but she was upset. [she has dementia, so we didn't really know what was going on]. i called my sister penny, but there was no answer. then i figured, well... i'll just call daddy.
i was never so relieved to hear his voice. we joked a little bit... he was getting a sponge bath, and i let him get back to that. i told him i'd call him a little later. i called the nursing home back and let them know everything was ok. i spoke with penny and she went in to visit him and he was doing ok. only 2 hours later, penny was called back up to the VA and given the news that he had passed away. he was in pain, asked for some medicine, and was gone by the time they brought it back to the room. penny called to tell me the news. in shock, i called ian. thankfully he knew what the tears meant, since i couldn't say a word, and he left work to come home.
later on, we found out from the nursing home that my mom was a wreck between 3:30 and 4, telling them they had to let her go to him, that her husband needed her. when we made it to erie to visit her, she told us that daddy came to her, that he told her he couldn't do it anymore, and held his chest. it gives me chills thinking about that...
she seems to be doing ok.... as ok as can be expected. losing a spouse of 39 years would be painful for anyone. but given her condition... i think it makes things a little worse. she knows he's gone, but i think sometimes she forgets the timeframe and when things have happened. but maybe that makes things easier.
the viewings and funeral, well, what can you say. it was sad, it was painful. it was just horrible. there are really no words to describe everything. i can't remember when i've cried so much in my life. during the viewings, whenever it got too much for me, i would leave and go to the lounge to cry, or walk the hallway. i didn't want my mom to see me so upset because of it possibly upsetting her more. at one point during the service, it really hit me, and a sob came. and all of a sudden, my mom was a "mother" again, and put her arm around me and wanted to comfort me and make sure i was ok. there was a moment of clarity and the roles were reversed and she knew i needed her. it only lasted a minute or so, but it was comforting.
even though my father was in WWII, he did not want a full military funeral. his coffin was draped with the flag [which will eventually go to me when my mother passes], and he had a bagpiper play amazing grace. that was incredibly sad, but really beautiful. we placed flowers on the casket and had to leave. its all a bit of a blur to me.
the days since then have been difficult. i've been hiding out at home, doing a little work to keep me distracted. its so much harder than i ever expected. i haven't been sleeping well. and unfortunately when i wake up, its the first thing i remember. i haven't had much of an appetite, other than for soup. ian's mom has been sending home cookies which have been helping. i've received comments, emails, card, etc... and they all mean so much to me. its comforting to know that my friends are there for me. and i'm gonna need you guys the next few months. thank you so much for all the kind words and thoughts coming my way.
i really miss him. i'd call him every few days, and sit out on the back steps talking to him while sydney played in the yard. i'd always ask him what he had for lunch, and then we'd talk about days of our lives or what old movie he had been watching on tv. he was my go-to guy for gardening questions, and if i really had to wait until after memorial day to plant vegetables outside. he knew everything from quilting to home building and everything in between. he truly was a wonderful man and father.
people always say that you'll get past this. but the real truth is, before you can get past it, you have to live through it.
after great pain a formal feeling comes
the nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
the stiff heart questions, was it he that bore?
and yesterday, or centuries before?
the feet, mechanical, go round
a wooden way
of ground, or air, or ought,
regardless grown,
a quartz contentment, like a stone.
this is the hour of lead
remembered if outlived,
as freezing persons recollect the snow;
first chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
2 Comments:
I'm sitting here reading this and the tears are just coming.... what you worte was beautiful. He was a great father and i miss calling him and asking him for advice on what to do about things. I'm glad he knew i am pregnant, but i wish he were here to see it.... and until you wrote it-- i hadn't realized it was only 2 months.... but i'm lad we had the time with him that we did.
penny
Good post.
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