Goodbye, Pops

November 10, 2013

The other day a friend of mine was confused when I mentioned that my father-in-law had just gone on hospice care & was not expected to live more than a few days. "But, you're not married!" That's true--and the married Shari seems like another person, another lifetime--but the people who became my family even before the wedding never ceased to be my family. That friend thought it was sweet that I am still close with my in-laws, but to me it just seems natural. I met my father-in-law when I was 18 years old, and he was scary at first. He used to make fun of me because I was going to college. He would call me a "college puke" and tell me that now I would be "trainable." But on my graduation day, no one was prouder or more excited than he was, not even my biological parents. He kept the graduation program on his end table for years after that day, and when people would come to visit he would take it out & point to my name and brag about me. He was always there for me. He rescued me when my car broke down. He fixed anything and everything that broke around the house. I could call him whenever I needed help & he always took care of me. As much as he made fun of me for my "book learning," he would ask me for my opinions or to help him research something. When his son decided to end our marriage, Pops said, "I don't know what's wrong with him." My in-laws moved to Myrtle Beach, and I took an internship in nearby Florence, SC so I could see them on weekends. They put me up every weekend, fed me, bought me stuff, and loved me like their own. They'd always done so, and even when I was no longer legally related to them, it didn't matter. As I packed my car to leave after my internship, Pops stood in the driveway and started to cry, saying, "I just know you'll never come here again." That made me cry. That was 1999. In 2010, when his dementia was starting to progress, I made a trip from AZ to SC so I could visit him while he still knew me. He was, as always, thrilled to see me. And the feeling was mutual. I am so glad I made that trip. Today, Pops died peacefully in his bed at home with his (biological) children and his wife at his side. I wish I could have been there, too, but I take comfort in knowing that he remembered me until the end and was always excited to talk to me on the phone. The last time I talked to him was just a couple of weeks ago. As soon as he heard my voice, it was the same old excitement and he told me he loved me. One of his favorite possessions was the doormat I got him that said, "One Nice Person and One Old Grouch Live Here." He kept it in front of his recliner. He really was an old grouch to a lot of the world. But I knew different. My heart is very heavy, but I know he went in peace & that his suffering is over. I am so grateful to have had him as my Pops for over 3 decades. Books have taught me a lot, but the love of good people has done more for me than anything else. I wish him a good journey.

Goodbye, Dad

October 15, 2015

My Dad passed away at 5:46 pm. I was with him and holding his hand as he went. It was very peaceful.

An amazing thing happened as Dad was taking his last breaths. The hospital bed had built-in music and had been playing this quiet classical music. As his breathing slowed and the monitor showed that his heart was stopping, there was a sound of bells ringing. At first I thought it was an alarm on the monitor, but I realized that wasn't it. The bells got louder and louder. My friend was with me and we were stunned, as it felt like bells from Heaven, but we were still on earth in a hospital room in Sun City! We finally realized that the music had changed and the bells started ringing just as Dad's body was letting go. It went on for a few minutes. The nurses came into the room and were also struck with wonder. It was amazing. One of them said, "It's like the bells of Heaven welcoming him." I think that's just what it was.

It was so amazing that I can't even wrap my head around it.

Dad started to feel sick at the care center last night and eventually became unresponsive. They took him to the hospital, where he never regained consciousness. As it turns out he had a severe urinary tract infection that led to sepsis. (He had been fighting a UTI for years and could never shake it. In fact, several of his hospitalizations were due to UTI and sepsis.) He also had acute pancreatitis and a blockage in one of his bile ducts. His organs were shutting down. His heart could not pump hard enough to perfuse his organs--his blood pressure was so very low. It is almost certain that he had suffered an anoxic brain injury; his pupils weren't responsive. He needed special medicines to keep him alive while the doctors ran lab tests and performed their evaluations. As the big picture became clear, it was evident that Dad's body was finally saying, "I'm done."

During all of this, I held Dad's hand and told him that we loved him. Incredibly, at one point he actually opened his eyes and looked at me. It took a few seconds for him to focus, but he looked me in the eye. I told him again that he was loved and I mentioned all 5 of his children by name. I really think that he was with me for about a minute before he closed his eyes again and I kissed him on the forehead.

So we stopped the medicines that were making his heart pump and let God take over. I sat holding his hand for about 20 minutes before he took his last breath. Once or twice I thought maybe he would rally--maybe this wasn't really going to happen--but I knew. He went very peacefully and quietly.

And then the bells rang out.

It was his time. There is no doubt. It was coming for years, yet it seemed so fast and sudden.

My Dad was a good man. He could be a huge pain-in-the-backside and he knew how to push people’s buttons (especially mine these last few years), but he had a special bond with each of his children. He had a silly sense of humor and could be very mischievous. He hated the food at the care center (he never liked anything nutritious!) and insisted on using his debit card to call in orders for pizza all the time, and we had many arguments over that. Yet, I am thrilled that his last meal was pizza!

This whole day seemed prearranged by fate. I knew it was coming and I even knew that it was likely to be that damned UTI that somehow would be responsible. And yet I sit here in disbelief. People who are close to me know that my Dad could drive me crazy and I stressed over making sure he was cared for and happy. In the last few years I was more of a life manager than a daughter. All those daughter feelings are rising up to the surface now and I am grieving the loss of my Daddy.

My Dad saved me when I was about 14 years old. My family life was not good and I had tried to commit suicide and I had run away from home multiple times. I was failing in school. I was in danger of getting into the juvenile justice system until my Dad said, "Wait. I want her." And he took me to live with him. He had his flaws and he was not the perfect father, but he always loved me unconditionally. He always believed in my potential. Within a few weeks I was on the honor roll and stayed there throughout college. I developed a very close bond with him. While life changed for both of us over the years, that bond remained.

I owe a lot to my Dad. My life could have gone in a completely different direction if he had not loved me and believed in me. The power of unconditional love is beyond description. Even when we had our differences these last few years, there was that powerful bond and now he trusted me to do what was right for him. It was hard watching his body break down, but he always maintained his sense of humor and he was never shy about telling everyone how great all his kids are and how much he loves them and is proud of them. He really thought I walked on water and could do no wrong. We all know that's far from the truth, but it's sure nice to know that my Daddy believed that.

I know his spirit will live in me and my sisters and brother. I'm glad he is no longer suffering, and that we don't have to suffer for him anymore. I am sad and feeling the loss deep in my soul, but I am also grateful that our bond came full circle and I could be there to see him off, and to hear the bells of Heaven ringing as his soul was welcomed home.