Christmas is upon us. And we’ll be missing my father-in-law as we celebrate this year.
On Sunday, the entire family was called to hospice to say goodbye to Bob. He was struggling and earlier had communicated to one of his daughters that he didn’t think he could take much more. Mark and I joined the rest of the family in Bob’s room as we quietly gathered around his bed. His daughters were circled around him, holding his hands and praying with him. His breaths were coming too far apart. There were so many tears as we all watched and waited. The minutes and hours ticked by as we alternately took turns coming and going from the room. There were too many of us to all be there at the same time.
At one point, I went out to the great room to sit and exchange comfort with other family members. Mark’s mom was there too, when one of the nurses came out to talk. She told us that Bob had stabilized and it seemed obvious he wasn’t going anywhere that day. She suggested that if anyone wanted or needed to go home, they should do so without guilt. She recommended that when anyone of us did leave, when we said goodbye to Bob, we might tell him that if he wanted to go while we were away, it would be okay. She said sometimes a dying person just needs to know that it’s okay to go.
Most of the family went home with plans to come back at various times so that someone would be with Bob around the clock. Mark and I stayed a while longer, along with his mom and youngest brother. Kacey brought us some dinner and after eating, the five of us sat in the room, watching Bob rest. Eventually, Mark suggested that I go home with Kacey while he stayed with his mom and brother. I had things that desperately needed doing at home, and so I agreed. Before leaving, I leaned over Bob and took his hand. He looked up at me as I said, “Bob, Kacey and I are going to go now. We love you.” He moved his hand in acknowledgement.
I’m so glad I told Bob I loved him. I always got along just fine with him, but he and I weren’t affectionate in the way where we would express love for each other. I never had any doubt that he loved me too. But it was never said, only assumed.
On Monday afternoon, Bob passed away.
I had just returned to my desk after lunch when Mark called me at work to tell me Bob was gone. He was sad but calm. We made plans to meet at home and go to the hospice together to meet his family. Mark’s mom, two of his sisters and his older brother had been with Bob when he passed. He had not been alert or responsive all day. They had been sitting in the room with him, just watching him slowly breathe, when they realized the last breath had come and gone. Bob left quietly, without a struggle or obvious pain. I am so grateful for that. Mark was so afraid that his dad’s passing would be traumatic. Instead, it was very peaceful.
The hospice staff was wonderful. Such compassionate people they are! In addition to the tears shed for Bob, I think there were some as a result of having to say goodbye to the people who so lovingly took care of Bob.
After everyone had come and said their last goodbyes, we were all gathered in various clusters in and outside of Bob’s room as Mark’s sisters packed up his personal things. In the hallway just outside the room, there are windows overlooking the trees surrounding the hospice property. Mark pointed out a cluster of deer on the edge of the trees, looking toward us, flicking their tails and bobbing their heads now and then. More than one of us surmised that Bob had sent the deer as a way of telling us he was just fine. He always loved the outdoors, and in his later years, continued to buy deer hunting licenses, but never loaded his gun when he went out into the woods. There’s a corn crib in his front yard at home, just for the deer.
Sunny, another member of the staff told us that the deer always come when it’s someone’s time. They seem to know, and are always there at the time of a patient’s passing.
I continue to be in awe at the miracles that occurred during these last few weeks as Bob made his way out of this world. He seemed to come back from the brink of death several times. Family divisions were healed. And I came to believe in life after death in a way I never have before.
On Sunday, as Bob was struggling so terribly, I was sitting in his room with the others. We had agreed not to talk. It seemed to be what Bob wanted. So I prayed. I prayed that he wouldn’t hurt and I prayed that he wouldn’t be afraid. And I was thinking about his best friend, Howie and how he had come to Bob a few days earlier. I was imagining him being there to walk along with Bob as he left this world. I wondered who else might be there to meet him and it occurred to me that if I could choose someone to welcome Bob to Heaven, it would be my Grandma T. Just a random thought. My Grandma T loved everybody, and everybody loved her. If I could send someone to help make Bob’s journey easier, it would be her.
On Monday, as we waited in the great room at hospice for the mortuary staff to take Bob’s body away, a volunteer came in to play piano. She played a song or two before I realized she was playing How Great Thou Art. Most people know that song. Many of us love it. It was my Grandma T’s absolute favorite and she used to play it on her piano. I think she was speaking to me through that song, saying, “I got your message, honey girl, and I came to welcome Bob, just like you asked.”
As many have recently reminded me, those of us left behind will be sad for a while for our own loss, but where Bob is now, it’s a huge celebration. And I truly believe it.