Grief, Loss and Treasures

The call came yesterday to let us know my father-in-law was in his final hours.  My husband made a flight reservation for this morning at 10:00.  We woke this morning with a message on our answering machine from his mom,  "This is Mom, Hon.  Pick up the phone if you can hear me."

His dad passed quietly some time before midnight.  He had hoped to get there before his passing but is grateful that his dad is no longer suffering.  We cried and held each other.  It was a somber morning.  My stepson and I will make our reservations today.

I told my husband to be careful, to be diligent to not fall as I did because it was miserable.  I told him that it no longer felt normal or comfortable to be in that unhealthy dysfunctional place but it was still hard for me to find my way to getting out of it.  I don't want him to miss out on the important process of grieving and staying connected to himself and our family.

From the time my father-in-law was diagnosed several months ago he has been the picture of grace.  It seemed as though all that was good in him amplfied as time went on.  All that was not his true self slipped away little by little.  It has been an honor to witness him.  He amazed us all and has left us with a tremendous gift.  The chemo treatment never worked for him so we knew he was terminal from a couple of months after his diagnosis.  He was grateful for the days he had and said he had had a good life.  He was at peace.  

When we were there he was still wanting to have people do things around the house for his wife that he would usually do himself.  We put plants in the ground and in pots.  My husband and his brother re-did the bathroom floor in the master bedroom.  Even as he could no longer walk on his own or barely eat he was on the phone hiring someone to resurface the driveway.  He always liked taking care of his family.  He smiled a broad smile with satisfaction when his sons took him in the wheelchair to see the new plants and bathroom.  He did the same as he could see the driveway out the door from the bed hospice had delivered.  It was as if he couldn't go until he felt these things were completed.  You could see in his eyes he was going through his mental checklist.

Sometimes in the early morning hours I would see my in-laws sitting on the couch, his head nestled up into her neck.   Her arm would be  wrapped around him while her lips were pressed tenderly to his forehead, their eyes closed and fingers entertwined.  I would creep away as not to disturb them.  They would sit like that for long periods of time.  It was deeply touching to get a glimpse of and yet too private for me to linger and watch.  

He always called his kids, "Hon" even to this day.  He held all of us close when we hugged him while there.  He reminisced over family childhood stories both happy and difficult (of course those are even humorous when reflecting years later).  I could see how meaningful it was to everyone.  

Shortly before we were leaving from our recent trip my husband thanked his dad for "being you".  His brother stood with him and their father thanked them for being who they were.  He told them he was so proud of them.  My husband thanked his dad for never quittting on them.  He said that no matter what they did, no matter the mistakes they had made in life that he was always there for them, encouraging them to succeed.  He told him it taught them to not be afraid to believe they could accomplish what they wanted in life.  We all cried.  His mom and I left the room to give them privacy.  They had an intimate talk and their dad finished with, "I'll see you on the other side".  I went in and put my cheek to his.  I told him I loved him and that he had shown such grace, courage and sweetness throughout.  He said he loved me too but he wasn't so sure about how sweet he was.  I thanked him for being my husband's dad and for giving him to me.  We said goodbye. 

In the end he died as he wanted.  In his own home with those who loved him around him.  His breathing had become very labored the last couple of days and he was moaning in the night.  My husband and I agreed that his dad would not be one to hang around suffering in pain for long.  We said he would just decide for himself when he would die.  There would be no succumbing to it or being ravaged by it.  He wouldn't run from it and that's exactly what he did.   

Although he had told his sons to look after and take care of their mom several times since facing his death, he told them in parting once more to take care of her.  We live several miles away but I know my husband will keep his promise to his father.