Dad's Death

It's a month and a half since I watched my father pass. I wanted to write this post as a reminder to myself how important life truly is. My father was 72 when he passed. He was a kind and gentle man. Dad was a very modest and traditional man. He always looked presentable, reminded us of our improper grammar and was a sports enthusiast. I truly loved my Dad.

I wanted to write about his passing. It terrified me, intrigued me, and changed my opinions about the process of dying. My siblings and I witnessed, with mixed emotions, the death of my father. It was a sunny day outside as we entered the hospital. One by one, we entered the hospital room with anxiety, tears and forced smiles. I have 3 older sisters and a brother. As the day progressed, and with the doctor's recommendations, we made the decision to remove Dad from life support. I held his hand and whispered to him that he did a good job and that we were going to take care of him. And with that, he squeezed my hand and closed his eyes-never to open them again.

If you were to ask me a couple weeks ago, I would say that the process of dying was agonizing and ugly. But through prayer, I feel that Dad's death was strong, comforting and truly planned. I'll explain my later feelings in a bit. To me, Dad was so strong. Some of my earliest memories of Dad was on his shoulders. I felt like I was on top of the world! I also remember him carrying me to bed, when I fell asleep on the couch. Dad mowed the grass in 100 degree (it felt like it) weather, with a beer in his cup holder. He put together those horrid Ikea bookshelves and modern desks that Mom and I always brought home. He dragged lumber from one end of his lumber yard to the other, once even nearly sawing his pinky off! Dad was strong. And in his death, he was even stronger.

I'll return to my feelings I mentioned earlier. His death was strong. Dad hung on for 12 hours after the hospital removed him from life support. His breathing was loud and labored. It felt like he was hanging on for all of us to stay just a while longer, together. He even went a couple minutes in between breathing sessions, only to let us know he was still in the room by taking deep and loud breaths again. We reminisced about silly times, embarrassing times and bittersweet memories with Dad. He wasn't about to pass up this meeting, so he held on strong for 12 or more hours.

Dad's death was comforting. Yes, that sounds horrible when I think about that phrase. I am no longer afraid of dying, because I watched my father die. Dad was surrounded by his children and their spouses. He wasn't alone. We were together as a family, while witnessing a natural part of life. I am comforted by Dad's death because I know he will be waiting for me when it's my time to go. Some never get to have those last moments with a loved one. We were blessed to be able to get time with Dad before he traveled to his next destination. And that's why I believed his death was planned.

God planned Dad's death. He planned for his children to come together and witness Dad's final moments on Earth. God wanted us to see how much his love brought us together. He wanted us to understand that death is a normal process of life. Dad's death was strong, comforting and truly planned for us. His death was to help us understand that family is everything. It's so cliché to say. But it's true. Life is so important. Dad, I will remember that!