My Dad

By fromskilledhands ( June 24, 2007 at 11:26 am) · Filed under creativity, Funeral Urns, here and now, Musings

On Friday evening, my sister and I took our Dad to hospice. He had a massive stroke on Fathers’ Day, and was rushed to the hospital. The effects of the stroke are devastating: paralysis, inability to swallow, limited speech, total dependence.

My Dad is a philosopher, a man of words, thoughts and ideas. He answers questions with questions, frequently quoting a favorite book or author. He audits classes at the local community college, participates in their Encore program for senior citizens, and has mentored many young children at the local elementary school. When he would arrive at the school, the kids would rush up to him and ask, “Do you have a riddle for us, Tall Paul?”

My Dad likes to put all his ducks in a row. He had a list in his hand when he had the stroke: his lawyer, accountant, physician, accounts and other information. On Monday, when he and I were alone in his ICU room, he looked me squarely in the face asked me to call the funeral home. ” Ok,” I said, tears streaming down my face as I looked at my dad, understanding exactly what he was saying. “I’m done,” he told me, “Enough.” “Yes,” I responded, “I know.”

My Dad had always told us that he wouldn’t want life support or any interventions if he couldn’t be independent. He had had these discussions with his health care providers and he wrote it all down in his Living Will. He wants cremation and for his ashes to be buried with my Mom.
Steve is making the urn. Something simple and mostly blue. He knows what to do.

As I drove home from Hospice yesterday evening, I gazed at the evening sky. Sky blue pink.

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10 comments »

  1. John Elder Robison said,

    June 25, 2007 @ 8:54 pm

    I’m sorry to hear about your dad. My own father got sick and died two years ago, so I know what you’re going through.

    I wrote an essay about my father that’s on my brother’s web site. It’s on http://www.augusten.com under special projects > essay by my brother.

    Perhaps you can draw some inspiration from that. It was the genesis of my recent book, Look Me in the Eye.

    Best wishes
    John

  2. Lisa Kenney said,

    June 26, 2007 @ 12:13 am

    I am so very sorry about your father. Like John, I lost my dad a little over two years ago. I took some comfort in the reality that he knew exactly what was happening and could tell us that he wasn’t afraid, that he was ready. Like your father, he told us how he wanted us to handle things once he was gone. My thoughts are with you tonight.

    Lisa

  3. Cath Bennett said,

    June 26, 2007 @ 9:42 am

    I, too, lost my dad two years ago and he, too, was ready to go when his body failed. It’s hard to say goodbye but so often I feel his presence and think of him so fondly. The love is always there, alive. Wishing you peace and good moments of connection in the farewell.

    Cathy

  4. Larramie said,

    June 26, 2007 @ 1:46 pm

    Life happens, doesn’t it — both the highs and the lows? Your father sounds like a man who has celebrated life, including the appreciation of a sky blue pink sunset. My thoughts are with you.

  5. fromskilledhands said,

    June 27, 2007 @ 7:57 am

    John: I will read the essay when I have more time. Thank you for letting me know about it. I can still hear my Dad saying,”Look me in the eye, young lady.”

    Lisa: my Dad, too, knows exactly what is happening, even though he no longer has the words. He is ready; we have told him how much we love him and that is ok for him to go.

    Cathy: It is hard to say goodbye,but this is so right for him. I will will see him when I look at the tomato plants he planted this year and when I look at my children. And I will feel his presence, as I feel my Mom’s.

    Larramie: Life sure does happen. This is an interesting combination of highs and lows. It’s so important to realize that life is not a dress rehearsal.

  6. Christi said,

    June 27, 2007 @ 3:39 pm

    I am so sorry to hear about your dad. He sounds like a wonderful man. My thoughts are with you and your family. Hugs.

  7. kelly said,

    June 29, 2007 @ 6:26 am

    Debra, I’m sorry that I never had the opportunity to meet your father. He sounds like such an interesting man. So brave. Hugs to you and all of yours…will ring you later today. xo.

  8. Mary Witzl said,

    August 8, 2007 @ 5:45 am

    My father died of a stroke too, almost fourteen years ago. I was in Japan at the time and flew home as soon as I heard, but he died just before my plane landed in L.A. I took comfort from the fact that he had done all the things he enjoyed that morning: walked out among his avocado trees, visited a friend’s cactus garden, and eaten half a bucketful of a salsa that could practically clear drains. I still think if he’d had a little more of that salsa, he might have hung on long enough for me to say goodbye.

  9. fromskilledhands said,

    August 11, 2007 @ 8:26 am

    It kind of reminds us to live each day to the fullest, doesn’t it?

  10. From Skilled Hands » One Year Hence said,

    April 29, 2008 @ 2:30 pm

    [...] the past ten months, I have had many life-changing experiences. On Fathers’ Day, my Dad had a massive stroke. Throughout a very powerful and intense few weeks, we supported him in completing his work in this [...]

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