After celebrating Mom and Dad’s 68th anniversary and Mom’s 88th birthday in March (three months before Dad’s death), I told Dad I would plan a similar celebration for his upcoming 90th birthday in May.
He looked at me and said, “Well, at least the important one was celebrated—Mom’s! And our anniversary!”
I thought he was telling me it wasn’t important for him to celebrate his own birthday. And frankly, I was surprised because I would have thought that turning 90 would be a big deal for anyone. But Dad knew he was running out of time.
A week later in March Dad tried calling my sister, Marlene, and I but both of us were not around. When I got home and called the nurse back, Dad was already in bed. She said Dad had wanted to tell us something—I thought perhaps it was the fact he was unable to walk anymore.
On my next visit with him at the end of March he was visibly weaker physically and had a wan, empty look in his eyes but mentally he was doing well so I was able to have great conversations with him, including about my upcoming book.
This was when he told me he had been feeling Cindy’s presence for months…and he told me her presence was getting stronger. For me that should have been a realization his death was approaching quickly because I couldn’t feel her presence at all. (I thought he still had a lot more time than he actually did. Even being at his bedside several days before he died, I still had no idea his end was about to come so quickly.)
He was comforted by the feeling of Cindy being near and was not at all disturbed by it. I can now see that he knew he was dying…and he was preparing and planning for it. (In fact he had started preparing for it many months before when he told me what he wanted to say in letters to each of his family members…in case he couldn’t say it to them in person…and what he wanted them to have that Christmas.)
In March we looked through his photo albums and began creating a scrapbook of his life.
Looking back on it all I see Dad taught me there is so much more to dying than the physical journey. I watched him work through his existential suffering and frustration while he declined and experienced greater limitations and dependency. I was blessed and honored to be a witness to his dying process—to share in his journey…to watch, to listen, to learn, to assist when and in whatever manner he needed, and to help him transition from this life.
I watched him find peace.
And watching him refuse pain medication those last days of his life, I knew he was strong…and was taking his illness gracefully.
He was ready to go.
I know he chose the moment of his dying because he waited until both my sister (Marlene) and I were at his bedside…just as he promised.
Dad taught me that there is nothing to fear in dying. And he taught me how to live.
His death was beautiful and peaceful and loving—certainly the way I would want to die.
Despite his peaceful and prepared death and knowing I was reconciled with what was happening, I still felt a great loss as grief settled into my heart after he left.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James