My husband’s phone rang about suppertime Friday night and he was told that paramedics were working on his dad and to meet them at the hospital which we did. It was not good. He had stopped breathing and been resuscitated. At the hospital, he had been hooked up to a breathing machine. Something he didn’t want to have happen but one of our daughters had the paperwork and the hospital had to wait for it.
The paperwork came. What family was available gathered around him. We said our good byes and the tube removed. We had been told that after a few breaths, it would be over. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
He became VERY agitated, flailing his arms, moaning, trying to talk and looking back and forth at us. We tried to calm him with soothing words and touches. This only seemed to aggravate him more. I have never been prouder of my husband as I watched him hold his dad in his arms, tears streaming down his face and assuring him that everything was okay and repeating over and over how loved he was. We mentioned those that couldn’t be there and repeated their messages of love and concern. We told him they said good-bye. We told him he was going to an amazing place and his mission here was finished. We told him we would take care of Grandma.
We expected each ragged breath to be his last but to no avail. Caught in the moment we had no idea of how much time had gone by. The hospital staff was giving us privacy and time to grieve. Finally a nurse peeked in the room to see if we were ready to leave and saw what was happening. She asked if we wanted him to have pain meds. YES!!!
It seemed to take a lifetime for the meds to arrive but they did. He relaxed and within fifteen minutes it was over. We hugged and cried, shared I love you’s and headed out into the starry night to start making the first of many phone calls and texts.
People keep asking if it was unexpected. The best answer to that is we’ve been expecting it for five years but not particularly on Friday. He had heart problems, diabetes and Alzheimer’s. He had wanted to die for awhile but he didn’t want to leave Grandma.
I struggled a little finding an appropriate poem to send him off with but I think I found the perfect one. I’m pretty sure he would love this.
The Junk Man- by Carl Sandburg
I am glad that God saw Death and gave Death a job taking care of all who are tired of living: …When all the wheels in a clock are worn and slow and the connections loose… And the clock goes on ticking and telling the wrong time from hour to hour… And people around the house joke about what a bum clock it is,… How glad the clock is when the big Junk Man drives his wagon… Up to the house and puts his big arms around the clock and says: …“You don’t belong here, You gotta come… Along with me.” How glad the clock is then, when it feels the arms of the Junk Man close around it and carry it away.” That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
The paperwork came. What family was available gathered around him. We said our good byes and the tube removed. We had been told that after a few breaths, it would be over. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
He became VERY agitated, flailing his arms, moaning, trying to talk and looking back and forth at us. We tried to calm him with soothing words and touches. This only seemed to aggravate him more. I have never been prouder of my husband as I watched him hold his dad in his arms, tears streaming down his face and assuring him that everything was okay and repeating over and over how loved he was. We mentioned those that couldn’t be there and repeated their messages of love and concern. We told him they said good-bye. We told him he was going to an amazing place and his mission here was finished. We told him we would take care of Grandma.
We expected each ragged breath to be his last but to no avail. Caught in the moment we had no idea of how much time had gone by. The hospital staff was giving us privacy and time to grieve. Finally a nurse peeked in the room to see if we were ready to leave and saw what was happening. She asked if we wanted him to have pain meds. YES!!!
It seemed to take a lifetime for the meds to arrive but they did. He relaxed and within fifteen minutes it was over. We hugged and cried, shared I love you’s and headed out into the starry night to start making the first of many phone calls and texts.
People keep asking if it was unexpected. The best answer to that is we’ve been expecting it for five years but not particularly on Friday. He had heart problems, diabetes and Alzheimer’s. He had wanted to die for awhile but he didn’t want to leave Grandma.
I struggled a little finding an appropriate poem to send him off with but I think I found the perfect one. I’m pretty sure he would love this.
The Junk Man- by Carl Sandburg
I am glad that God saw Death and gave Death a job taking care of all who are tired of living: …When all the wheels in a clock are worn and slow and the connections loose… And the clock goes on ticking and telling the wrong time from hour to hour… And people around the house joke about what a bum clock it is,… How glad the clock is when the big Junk Man drives his wagon… Up to the house and puts his big arms around the clock and says: …“You don’t belong here, You gotta come… Along with me.” How glad the clock is then, when it feels the arms of the Junk Man close around it and carry it away.” That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
I've had some time to read and ponder your post today. While I appreciate your sentiments, I have a pressing need to ask you to remove it. As a family member who was not there, I feel this is a bit of over sharing. To those who were not there and who are not family, I feel it is a little graphic and more than what the average reader should be exposed to about our family. Again, I appreciate the sentiments and motives behind the post, out of respect for the family in our time of grieving, please remove this.
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