Have you ever made a tough decision?
I had planned to take my her on a celebratory trip before starting her new job, in a new-just-for-her state. Our plans had already morphed from elaborate to just a few days at the beach, due to my dad's decline and the advice of our hospice nurse. We had reservations for a few days before she would be consumed with her new responsibilities, and I had thrown a swim suit and shorts into a bag; but, I was not optimistic. The last few days had been a significant downward spiral and my mother was pretty sure the end was near when we talked in the early morning. "He will not wake up and will not drink," she said sadly. She did not think I should head to the beach.
As I drove to their house, I said a prayer, but I did not ask for my dad to get better from his multiple health issues; instead, I asked for guidance or a sign about whether I should or should not go.
As I walked into the door, my Dad was sitting at the table, reading the carefully folded NY Times and drinking a cup of coffee. "Did you catch Maureen's (Dowd) column," he smiled even though his skin was as gray as stormy sky and his eyes were glossy and sinking. We talked about the column and the weather and he offered me an easy exit that took my breath away, "You should get going so you can catch some waves today."
The trip had not been part of any conversation for at least a week, and I will never know if he had somehow remembered, my mom had prompted, or the hospice nurse had asked if I was going.
He never said, "Don't forget to read Dowd's column when I'm gone," but I he clearly planted that seed. He never said, "Catch waves with your children while you still can," but I certainly felt his message in the Herculean effort it must have taken to make a trip to the table.
Confident that this was my sign, I headed to the beach to celebrate the new chapter of her journey with hope for a few days in the sun, before the next chapter of my own.
6 comments:
What a beautiful story. You truly capture that feeling of limbo when a loved one is in hospice: there's the desire to be there for the important moments, while also trying to remember that there's life to be lived. And there's nothing clear-cut about either direction.
Here's hoping that time in the sun was helpful and restorative. <3
Being torn in two directions is never easy. Being there for loved ones is important, but so is taking care of our own needs. I would say your prayer was answered and you received the sign you asked for. Hope you had time to relax and take care of your needs. arjeha
Thank you for the shout out! I’m so glad you are sharing these memories of your dad. Just writing them down and knowing that they are preserved feels good, and I know you’re feeling that same work of the heart as you write. It’s interesting to me how one moment things seem dire, and the next it’s as if there isn’t a problem in the world! You capture this, and we experienced a similar phenomenon! I’m glad you went to catch some waves!
Thank you for sharing both your memories and our time at the beach.
My Mom was very happy that I could enjoy that respite with you in her declining months.
Anita,
More than ever it’s the connections and friendships that have grown out of this space and EthicalELA that mean the most to me. We need one another to share memories with. My last conversation w/ my dad echos yours. He said something he never said. I have thought of this last conversation often.
Thank you Glenda, and I totally agree with the need to connect and share our fears, our joys and our memories. As I have certainly learned, I am inspired by my fellow Slicers and Ethical ELAers and will always be grateful for this online group that has inspired me to share.
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