January 22, 2010
Posted by on
So I don’t know exactly how to write about it, but I can’t pretend that it didn’t happen either…
My dad died last Saturday. At 4:10 AM in room 157 at Hospice.
I’ll never forget that room.
It had large glass doors that opened up to the most unbelievable garden. At least I imagine that it was unbelievable because it was even beautiful covered in snow. Three cardinals were flying around outside and although he couldn’t see them, my dad was tickled that they were out there. I hadn’t seen a cardinal in years.
I hate the way that time just keeps ripping by with no regard to whether or not we could use a little (or a lot) more of it with someone. I tried to make it a good send off, he deserved it. We talked about the good times…fishing in the neighbors’ lake, our walks together in Greece, him dancing on a chair at my wedding, childhood pets, and mom of course. Funny what stands out when you’re presented with a mental slide show of your life in a time like this.
I could see the lightning bugs in our front yard and smell the wet grass like it was yesterday.
The nurse on duty from 7 to 7 was named Joyce. Joyce was my mom’s name. I knew something big would take place during those 12 hours, so I stayed close.
It was an honor, a privilege, an education for me. I got to see something real. Real.
At the end of the day, I could probably count the images that really matter on one hand.